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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


%rj'a/u<J  l/c).  '/hu. 


/ 


SERMONS 


I  I 


BY 


HENRY    WeLVILL,    B.D., 

MINISTER   OF    CAMDEIf   CII.\PEL,    CAMBERAyELL,    AND    CHAPLAIN   TO   TUE   TOWER   OF   LONDON  J 
FOKMEELT   FELLOW  AND   TUTOR  OF   ST.    PETER's   COLLEGE,   CAMBRIDGE. 


COMPRISING 


^11  tlje  ^mmxm  %yM\%\ii!i  bg  C^u^eitt  of  \\t  ^ut^ar. 


EDITED  BY 

EIGHT  EBY.  C.  P.  M'lLYAINE,  D.  D., 

BISHOP   OF   THE   PROTESTANT   EPISCOPAL   CHURCH   IN   THE   DIOCESE   OF  CHia 


IN     T"WO     VOLUME 


YOLUMB   I. 


T     E     IT     T     n  TnOUSANS 


^-^  CO 

STANFORD  AND  SWORDS,  037,   BROADWAY. 


1854. 


TO  THE 

CONGREGATION  OF  CAMDEN  CHAPEL, 

C  A  M  B  E  R  W  E  L  L  , 

In  acknowledgment  of  many  kindnesses  shown  liim,  through  years  of  healtli,  and 
months  of  sickness  ;  and  in  the  hope  that  what  is  now  published  may  help  to 
strengthen  them  for  duty,  and  comfort  them  in  trial,  this  volume  is  inscribed  with 
every  sentiment  of  christian  affection,  by  their  faithful  friend  and  pastor, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 

The  Author  has  selected  the  following  sermons  for  publication,  from  havmg 
observed  that  passages  of  Scripture  which  may  more  easily  be  overlooked,  as 
presenting  nothing  very  prominent,  prove  especially  interesting  to  an  audience 
when  shown  to  be  *'  profitable  for  doctrine,  for  reproof,  for  correction,  for  in- 
struction in  righteousness."  He  has  material  in  hand  for  another  volume  of  the 
like  kind,  and  may  hereafter  commit  it  to  the  press,  if  he  should  have  reason  to 
think  that  the  present  has  proved  acceptable. 

Camberwell,  Jauuaiy,  1843. 


D.A 


CONTENTS   OF  VOLUME   I. 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE              ...                                    ....  5 

SERMON  I.— THE  FIRST  PROPHECY 9 

SERMON   II.— CHRIST  THE  MINISTER  OF  THE  CHURCH    -            -            -            -  20 
SERMON   HI.— THE  IMPOSSH^ILITY  OF  CREATURE  MERIT  -            -            -            -  30 
8ERM0N  IV.— THE  HUMILIATION  OF  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS      -            -            -  40 
BERMON    v.— THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  RESURRECTION  VIEWED   IN    CONNEC- 
TION WITH  THAT  OF  THE  SOUL'S  IMMORTALITY             -            -  51 
SERMON  VI.— THE  POWER  OF  WICKEDNESS  AND  RIGHTEOUSNESS  TO  REPRO- 
DUCE THEMSELVES      -            -            -            -            J           ..  61 
SERMON  VII.— THE  POWER  OF  RELIGION  TO  STRENGTHEN  THE  HUMAN  IN- 
TELLECT -                         -            -                                                               -  71 
SERMON  VIII.— THE  PROVISION  xMADE  BY  GOD  FOR  THE  POOR     -            -            .  83 

SERMON  IX.— ST.  PAUL  A  TENT-MAKER 93 

SERMON  X.— THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  A  STATE  OF  EXPECTATION  -            -            -  103 

SERMON  XL— TRUTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  JESUS            - 114 

SERMON  XII.— THE  DIFFICULTIES  OF  SCRIPTURE    -            -            -            .            -  124 

SERMONS   PREACHED   BEFORE  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAWBRIDGE,   FEBRUARY,   1836. 

SERMON  I.— THE  GREATNESS  AND  CONDESCENSION  OF  GOD        -            -  138 

SERMON  II.— THE  TERMINATION  Q£.TH£-M1.:DIAT0RLVL  KINGDOM        -            -  145 
SERMON  III— THE  ADVANTAGES  RESULTING  FROM  THE  POSSESSION  OF  THE 

SCRIPTURES         --------  152 

SERMON  IV.— NEGLECT  OF  THE  GOSPEL  FOLLOWED  BY  ITS  REMOVAL              -  160 

SPITAL  SERMON.— PREACHED   BEFORE   THE  LORD   MAYOR  &c.   IN   CHRIST 

CHURCH,  NEWGATE-STREET,  APRIL,  1831    -            -            -  168 

SERMONS   PREACHED  IN  GREAT  ST.    MARYS  CHURCH,  CAMBRIDGE, 

AT  THE  EVENING  LECTURE  IN  FEBRUARY,   1836  AND  1837- 

SERMON  (1836.)— THE  GREATNESS  OF  SALVATION  AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  THE 

PERIL  OF  ITS  NEGLECT     -            -            -            -            .            -  179 

SERMON.— ON  THE  EFFECTS  OF  CONSIDERATION 187 

SERMON(1837.)— THE  TWO  SONS              -----             .             -  198 

SERMON.— THE  DISPERSION  AND  RESTORATION  OF  THE  JEWS     -            -            -  207 

SERMONS  PREACHED   BEFORE  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAMBRIDGE,  FEBRUARY,  183T. 

SERMON  I.— THE  UNNATURALNESS  OF  DISOBEDIENCE  TO  THE  GOSPEL           -  "18 

SERMON  II.— SONGS  IN  THE  NIGHT 0-15 

SERMON  III.— TESTIMONY  CONFIRMED  BY  EXPERIENCE  -            -            -            -  030 

SER.MON  IV.— THE  GE.NERAL  RESURRECTION  AND  JUDGMENT     .            -            -  '>40 
SERMON.— THE  ANCHOR  OF   THE  SOUL,  PREACHED    AT   TRINITY    CHURCH, 
CHELSEA,  JULY,  1836,  IN  BEHALF  OF  THE  EPISCOPAL  FLOATING 

CHAPEL           -----....  047 
SERMON.— THE     DIVINE   PATIENCE   EXHAUSTED   THROUGH  THE   MAKING 

VOID  THE  LAW        ---....  055 

SERMON  .—THE  STRENGTH  WHICH  FAITH  GAINS  BY  EXPERIENCE      -  266 

MISCELLANEOUS    SERMONS. 

SERMON  I.— JACOB'S  VISION  AND  VOW             ---..-  276 

SERMON  II  —THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON         -  287 

SERMON  III.— THE  RESURRKCTION  OF  DRY  BONES              -            -       '     -            -  "96 

SERMON  IV.— PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPERY 307 

SER.MON  v.— CHRISTIANITY  A  SWORD              -            .                         ...  319 

SERMON  VI.— THE  DEATH  OF  MOSES    -             -            -•            .            .            .            .  S'^S 

SERMON  VII.— THE  ASCENSION  OF  CHRIST    -            .            .            .                         -  338 

SERMON  VIII.— THE  SPIRIT  UPON  THE  WATERS        ...  348 
SKRMON  IX.— THE  PROPORTION  OF  GRACE  TO  TRIAL         -            -                         -359 

SER.MON  X.— PLEADING  BEFORE  THE  MOUNTAINS    ...  370 

SERMON  XI.— HEAVEN 381 

SER.MON  XII.— GOD'S  WAY  IN  THE  SANCTUARY        -                                                   -  394 

SERMON  XIII.— EQUITY  OF  THE  FUTURE  RETRIBUTION                                        -  406 


1291G.'57 


EDITOR  S  PREFACE 


The  autlioi*  of  these  discourses  is  well  known  in  England  as  an  eloquent  and  earnest  preacher 
of  the  Gospel,  "  EuNy  itself,"  says  the  British  Critic,  "  must  acknowledge  his  great  abilities  and 
great  eloquence."  After  having  occupied  the  highest  standing,  while  an  under-graduale  of  the 
University  of  Cambridge,  he  was  chosen  to  a  Fellowship  in  St.  Peter's  College,  and,  for  some  time, 
was  a  tutor  to  that  Society  Thence  he  was  called  to  the  pastoral  charge  of  Camden  Chapel,  (a  pro- 
prietary chapel,)  in  the  overgi'own  parish  of  Camberwell,  one  of  the  populous  suburbs  of  London. 
The  first  twelve  discourses  in  this  volume  were  preached  in  that  pulpit,  and  the  rest,  while  he  was 
connected  therewith.  It  has  not  unfrequently  been  the  privilege  of  the  Editor  to  worship  and 
Li&len,  in  company  with  the  highly  interesting  and  intelligent  congregation  that  crowds  the  pews 
and  aisles,  and  every  corner  of  a  standing-place  in  that  edifice ;  fully  participating  in  that  entire 
and  delightful  captivity  of  mind  in  wliich  their  beloved  pastor  is  wont  to  lead  the  whole  mass  o^ 
bis  numerous  auditory. 

Melvill  is  not  yet  what  is  usually  called  a  middle-aged  man.  His  constitution  and  physic% 
powers  are  feeble.  His  lungs  and  chest  needing  constant  care  and  protection,  often  seem  deter 
mined  to  submit  no  longer  to  the  efforts  they  are  required  to  make  in  keeping  pace  with  his  high- 
wrought  and  intense  animation.  The  hearer  sometimes  listens  with  pain  lest  arj  instrument  so 
frail,  and  struck  by  a  spirit  so  nerved  with  the  excitement  of  the  most  inspiring  themes,  should 
suddenly  break  some  silver  cord,  and  jsut  to  silence  a  harper  whose  notes  of  thunder,  and  strains 
of  warning,  invitation,  and  tenderness,  the  church  is  not  prepared  to  lose.  Generally,  however, 
one  thihks  but  little  of  the  speaker  while  hearing  Melvill.  The  manifest  defects  of  a  very  peculiar 
delivery,  both  as  regards  its  action  and  intonation :  (if  that  may  be  called  action  which  is  the  mere 
quivering  and  jerking  of  a  body  too  intensely  excited  to  be  quiet  a  moment) — the  evident  feebleness 
and  exhaustion  of  aframe  charged  to  the  brim  with  an  earnestness  which  seems  laboring  to  find  a  tongue 
in  every  limb,  while  it  keeps  in  strain  and  rapid  action  every  muscle  and  fibre,  are  forgotten,  after  a 
little  progress  of  the  discourse,  in  the  rapid  and  swelling  current  of  thought  in  which  the  hearer  is 
carried  along,  wholly  engrossed  with  the  new  aspects,  the  rich  and  glowing  scenery,  the  bold  promi 
neiices  and  beautiful  landscapes  of  truth,  remarkable  both  for  variety  and  unity,  with  which  every 
turn  of  the  stream  delights  him.  But  then  one  must  make  haste,  if  he  would  see  all.  Melvill  de- 
livers his  discourses  as  a  war-horse  rushes  to  the  charge.  He  literally  runs,  till  for  want  of  breath 
he  can  do  so  no  longer.  His  involuntary  pauses  are  as  convenient  to  his  audience  as  essential  to 
himself.  Then  it  is,  that  an  equally  breathless  audience,  betraying  the  most  convincing  signs  of 
having  forgotten  to  breathe,  commence  their  preparation  for  the  next  outset  with  a  degree  of  unan- 
imity and  of  business-like  effort  of  adjustment,  which  can  hardly  fail  of  disturbing,  a  little,  a  strang- 
er's gravity, 

Ther6  is  a  peculiarity  in  the  composition  of  Melvill's  congregation  wliich  contributes  much  to 
give  peculiarity  to  his  discourses.  His  chapel  is  a  centre  to  which  hearers  flock,  drawn  by  the  re- 
putation of  the  preacher,  not  only  from  all  the  neighborhood,  but  from  divers  parts  of  the  gi-eat  me- 
tropolis, bringing  under  his  reach,  not  only  the  higlicst  intellectual  character,  but  all  varieties  of 
states  of  mind ;  from  that  of  the  devout  believer,  to  that  of  the  habitual  doubter,  or  confirmed  infidel. 
In  this  mixed  multitude,  young  men,  of  great  importance,  occupy  a  large  place.  Seed  sown  in  that 
congregation  is  seen  scattered  over  all  London  and  carried  into  all  England.  Hence  there  is  an  ONa- 
deut  effort  on  the  part  of  the  preacher  to  introduce  as  much  variety  of  topic  and  of  treatment  as  is 
consistent  with  the  great  duty  of  always  preaching  and  teaching  Jesus  Christ;  of  always  holding  up 
the  cross,  with  all  its  connected  truths  surrounding  it,  as  the  one  great  and  all-pervading  subject  of 
his  ministry.  To  these  circumstances  Ire  alludes  in  a  passage  towards  the  end  of  the  sermon  on 
the  Difficulties  of  Scripture,  a  sermon  we  would  particularly  recommend  to  the  reader — and  a  pas*- 


6  editor's  preface. 

age,  introductory  to  one  of  the  most  eloquent  and  impressive  parts  of  the  whole  volume.  '•'  Ws  feel 
(he  says)  that  we  have  a  difficult  part  to  perform  in  ministerin"  to  the  congregation  which  assem- 
bles within  these  walls.  Gathered  as  it  is  from  many  parts  and  without  question  including,  often- 
times, numbers  who  make  no  professiou,  whatsoever,  of  religion,  we  think  it  bound  on  us  to  seek 
out  great  variety  of  subjects,  so  that,  if  possible,  the  case  of  none  of  the  audience  may  be  quite  over- 
looked in  a  series  of  discourses."  We  know  not  the  preacher  who  succeeds  better  in  this  respect; 
who  causes  to  pass  before  liis  people  a  richer,  or  more  complete  aiTay  of  doctrinal  and  practical 
truth;  e.vhibits  it  in  a  greate-  variety  of  lights;  sun-ounds  it  with  a  scenery  of  more  appropriate 
and  striking  illustration ;  meets  more  of  the  influential  difficulties  of  young  and  active  minds  ;  grap- 

f)les  with  more  of  the  real  enmity  of  scepticism,  and  for  all  classes  of  his  congregation  more  dihgent- 
y  "  seeks  out  acceptable  words,"  or  brings  more  seasonably,  out  of  his  treasures,  things  new  and 
old,  and  yet  without  failing  to  keep  within  the  circle  of  always  preaching  Christ — teaching  not  on- 
ly the  trutli,  but  •'  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  without  obscurit)',  without  compromise,  and  without 
fear  ;  pointedly,  fidly,  habitually. 

It  is  on  account  of  this  eminent  union  of  variety  and  faithfulne.^s,  this  wide  compass  of  excursion 
•without  ever  losing  sight  of  the  cross  as  the  central  light  and  power  in  which  every  thing  in  religion 
lives,  and  moves,  and  has  its  being  ;  it  is  because  that  same  variety  of  minds  which  throng  the  seats 
and  standing-places  of  Camden  chapel,  and  hang  with  delight  upon  the  lips  of  the  preacher,  finding 
in  his  teaching  what  rivets  their  attention,  rebukes  their  worldliness,  shames  their  doubts, 
annihilates  then-  difficulties,  and  enlarges  tlieir  views  of  the  great  and  precious  things  of  the  Gospel, 
are  found  every  where  in  this  land,  especially  among  our  educated  young  men,  that  we  have  sup- 
posed the  publication  of  these  discom-ses  might  receive  the  Divine  blessing,  and  be  productive  of 
very  important  lienefits. 

It  can  hardly  be  necessary  to  say,  that  in  causing  a  volume  to  issue  from  the  press,  as  this  does, 
one  does  not  make  himself  resj)onsible  for  every  jot  and  tittle  of  what  it  contains.  It  may  be  cal 
culated  powerfully  to  arrest  attention,  disarm  prejudice,  conciliate  respect,  stimulate  inquiry,  im- 
press most  vital  truth ;  and  in  many  ways  effect  a  great  deal  of  good,  though  we  be  not  prepared 
to  concur  with  its  author  in  some  minor  thoughts  or  incidental  ideas  on  which  none  of  the  great 
matters  in  his  volume  depend. 

There  are  some  aspects  in  which  these  discourses  may  be  profitably  studied  by  candidates  for 
orders,  and  indeed  by  most  preachers,  exclusive  of  the  substantial  instruction  of  their  contents. 
We  do  not  refer  to  tlieir  slt/le.  This  we  cannot  recommend  for  imitation.  However  wo  may  like  it 
in  Melvill,  l)ecausc  it  is  emphatically  his,  the  mode  of  his  mind ;  the  gait  in  which  his  thoughts 
most  naturally  march  on  their  high  places ;  the  raiment  in  which  his  inner  man  invests  itself,  wth- 
out  eSbrt,  and  almost  of  necessity,  when  he  takes  the  place  of  ambassador  of  the  King  of  kings,  we 
might  not  like  it  any  where  else.  However  this  peculiar  turn  and  swell  of  expression  may  be 
adafJted  to  that  peculiar  breadth,  and  height,  and  brilliancy  of  conception  for  which  this  author  is 
often  distinguished;  with  all  those  other  attributes  which  adapt  his  discourses  to  opportunities  of 
usefulness  not  often  improved ;  and  a  class  of  readers  not  often  attracted,  by  the  preacher ;  we 
ehould  think  it  a  great  evil  if  our  candidates  for  orders  should  attempt  to  appear  in  such  flowing 
robes.  For  the  same  reason  that  they  sit  well  on  him,  would  they  sit  awkwardly  on  them.  They 
are  his,  and  not  theirs.  His  mind  was  measured  for  such  a  dress.  Nature  made  it  up  and  adapt- 
ed it  to  liis  st)de  of  thought,  insensible  to  himself.  The  diligent  husbandman  may  be  as  useful  in  his 
way,  as  the  prince  in  his.  But  the  husbandman  in  the  equipment  of  the  prince  would  be  sadly 
out  of  keeping.  Not  more  than  if  a  mind  of  the  usual  turn  and  character  of  thought  should  emu- 
late the  stride  and  the  swing,  the  train  and  the  plumage  of  Melvill. 

It  is  in  the  expository  character  of  this  author's  discourses,  that  we  would  present  them  for  imi- 
tation. Of  the  expositions  themselves,  we  ai-e  not  speaking;  but  of  the  conspicuous  fact  that  what- 
ever Scripture  he  selects,  his  sermon  is  made  up  of  its  elements.  His  text  does  not  merely  in- 
troduce his  subject,  but  suggests  and  contains  it ;  and  not  only  contains,  but  is  identical  with  it. 
His  aim  is  confined  to  the  single  object  of  setting  forth  plainly  and  instriiclivelt/  scmie  one  or  two 
great  features  of  scriptural  truth,  of  which  the  chosen  passage  is  a  distinct  declaration.  No  matter 
what  tVie  topic,  the  hearer  is  sure  of  an  interesting  and  prominent  setting  out  of  the  text  in  its  con- 
nection, and  that  it  will  exercise  an  important  bearing  upon  every  branch  of  the  discourse,  con- 
stantly receiving  new  liglits  and  applications,  and  not  finally  relinquished  till  the  sermon  is  ended, 
and  the  hearer  has  obtained  an  inception  of  that  one  passage  of  the  Bible  upon  his  mind,  never  to 
be  forgotten.  In  other  words,  Melvill  is  strictly  a  preacher  upon  texts,  instead  oi  subjects ;  upon 
truths,  as  expressed  and  connected  in  the  Bible,  instead  of  topics,  as  insulated  or  classified,  accord- 
ing to  the  ways  of  man's  wisdom.  This  is  precisely  as  it  should  be.  The  preacher  is  not  called  to 
deliver  dissertations  upon  questions  of  theology,  or  orations  upon  specific  themes  of  duty  and 
spiritual  interest,  but  expositions  of  divine  truth  as  that  is  presented  in  the  infinitely  diversified 
combinations,  and  incidental  allocations  of  the  Scriptures.  His  work  is  simply  that  of  making, 
through  the  blessing  of  God,  the  Holy  Scriptures  "  profitable  for  doctrine,  reproof,  correction,  and 
instruction  in  righteousness."  This  ho  is  to  seek  by  endeavoring  "  rightly  to  divide  the  word  of 
truth."  Too  much,  by  far,  has  the  preaching  of  these  days  departed  from  this  expository  character. 
The  praise  of  invention  is  too  much  coveted.  Thesiinplicity  of  interpretation  and  application  is  too 
much  undervalued.  We  must  be  content  to  take  the  bread  as  the  Lord  has  created  it,  and  perform 
the  humble  ofiice  of  distribution,  going  round  amidst  the  multitude,  and  giving  to  all  as  each 
may  need,  believing  that  he  who  ])rovided  it  will  see  that  there  be  enough  and  to  spare,  instead 
of  desiring  to  stand  in  the  ])lace  of  the  Master,  and  improve  by  our  wisdom  tlio  simple  elements, 
"  the  Jive  barley  loaves'"  which  he  alone  can  make  sufficient  "  among  so  many." 

But  apart  from  the  duty  of  preacliing  vppn  and  out  of  the  Scriptures,  instead  of  merely  taking 
averse  as  the  starting-place  of  our  train  of  remark;  apart  from  the  obligati(Tn  of  so  expounding  the 
word  of  God,  that  the  sermon  shall  take  its  shape  and  character  from  the  text ;  and  the  doctrine 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  7 

■nd  the  du»y  shall  be  taught  and  urged  according  to  the  relative  bearings  and  proportions  in  which 
they  aro  presented  therein;  this  textual  plan  of  constructing  discourses  is  the  only  one  by  which  a 
preacher  can  secure  a  thio  variety  iu  his  ministry,  except  ho  go  outside  the  limits  of  always  preach' 
ing  Cin'ist  crucified,  and  deal  with  other  matters  than  such  as  bear  an  important  relation  to  the  per- 
son, ofhce,  and  benefits  of  "  the  Lord  our  Righteousness."  Ho  who  preaches  upon  subjects  in 
divinity,  instead  of  passages  of  Scripture,  fitting  a  text  to  his  theme,  instead  of  extracting  his  theme 
from  his  text,  will  soon  find  that,  in  the  ordinary  frequency  of  parochial  ministrations,  ho  has  gone 
the  round,  and  traced  all  the  great  highways  of  his  field,  and  what  to  do  next,  without  repeating 
his  com'se,  or  changing  his  whole  mode  of  proceeding,  he  will  be  at  a  great  loss  to  discover.  Dis- 
tinct objects  in  tlie  preacher's  message,  like  the  letters  in  his  alphabet,  are  few — few  when  it  is 
considered  that  liis  life  is  to  be  occupied  in  exhibiting  them.  But  their  combinations,  like  those  of 
the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  are  innumerable.  Few  are  the  distmct  classes  of  objects  which  make 
up  the  beautiful  landscapes  under  the  light  and  shadows  of  a  summer's  day.  The  naturalist,  who 
describes  by  genera  and  species,  may  soon  enumerate  them.  But;  boundless  is  the  variety  of  as- 
pects in  which  they  appear  under  all  their  diversities  of  shape,  color,  relation,  magnitude,  as  the 
observer  changes  place,  and  sun  and  cloud  change  the  light.  The  painter  must  paint  for  ever  to 
exhibit  all.  So  as  to  tlie  great  truths  to  which  the  preacher  must  give  himself  for  life.  Their 
variety  of  combinations,  as  exhibited  in  the  Bible,  is  endless.  He  who  treats  them  with  strict 
reference  to  all  the  diversities  of  shajje,  proportion,  incident,  relation,  circumstance,  under  which 
the  pen  of  inspiration  has  left  them,  changing  his  point  of  observation  with  the  changing  positions 
and  wants  of  his  hearers,  allowing  the  lights  and  shadows  of  Providence  to  lend  their  rightful  influ- 
ence in  varying  the  aspect  and  applications  of  the  truth — such  a  preacher,  if  his  heart  be  fully  in 
his  work,  can  never  lack  variety,  so  far  as  it  is  proper  for  one  who  is  to  "  know  nothing  among 
men  but  Jesus  Christ  and  him  ciiicificd."  He  will  constantly  feel  as  if  he  had  only  begun  the 
work  given  him  to  do — furnished  only  a  few  specimens  out  of  a  rich  and  inexhaustible  cabinet  of 
gems.  By  strictly  adhering  to  this  plan,  the  author  of  these  discourses  attains  unusual  variety  in 
his  ministry,  considering  that  he  makes  it  so  prominently  his  business  to  teach  and  j^reach  Jesus 
Christ. 

But  here  it  may  be  well  to  say  that  by  variety,  as  desirable  to  a  certain  extent,  in  the  preacher  s 
work,  we  mean  nothing  like  originality.  Some  minds  cannot  help  a  certam  measure  of  originality. 
They  may  treat  of  old  themes,  and  with  ideas  essentially  the  same  as  any  one  else  would  employ, 
but  with  peculiarities  of  thought  which  set  them  far  apart  from  all  other  minds.  But  to  seek  origi- 
nality, while  it  is  veiy  commonly  the  mistake  of  young  preachers,  is  a  veiy  serious  error.  There 
cannot  be  any  thing  new  in  the  preacher's  message.  He  that  seeks  novelties  wall  be  sure  to  preach 
fancies.  "  The  real  difficulty  and  the  real  triumph  of  preaching  is  to  enforce  home  upon  the 
mind  and  conscience,  trite,  simple,  but  all-important  truths  ;  to  urge  old  topics  in  common  language, 
and  to  send  the  hearer  back  to  his  house  awakened,  humbled,  and  impressed ;  not  so  much  aston- 
ished by  the  blaze  of  oratory,  but  thinking  far  more  of  the  argument  than  of  the  preacher ;  sensible 
of  his  own  sins,  and  anxious  to  grasp  the  proffered  means  of  salvation.  To  say  the  same  things 
which  the  best  and  most  pious  ministers  of  Christ's  church  have  said  from  the  beginning ;  to  tread 
m  their  path,  to  follow  their  footsteps,  and  yet  not  servilely  to  copy,  or  verbally  to  repeat  them; 
to  take  the  same  groundwork,  and  yet  add  to  it  an  enlarged  and  diversified  range  of  illustrations, 
brought  up  as  it  were  to  the  age,  and  adapted  to  time  and  circumstance;  this  is,  we  think,  the 
true  originality  of  the  pulpit.  To  be  on  the  watch  to  sti-ike  out  some  novel  method  of  display, — 
to  dash  into  the  fanciful,  because  it  is  an  arduous  task  to  arrest  the  same  eager  notice  by  the  familiar 
— this  is  not  originality,  but  mannerism  or  singularity.  And  although  few  can  be  original,  nothing 
is  more  easy  than  to  be  singular." 

The  discourses  contained  in  these  volumes  are  all  that  Melvill  has  published,  unless  there  be  one, 
or  two,  in  pamphlet  form,  of  which  the  Editor  has  not  heard.  We  say  all  that  Melvill  has  pub- 
lished. Many  others  have  been  published  surreptitiously,  which  he  never  prepared  for  the  press, 
and  which  ought  not  to  be  read  as  specimens  of  his  preaching.  In  the  English  periodical  called 
"  The  Pulpit,"  there  are  many  such  sermons,  imder  the  name  of  Melvill.  In  justice  to  that  dis- 
tinguished preacher,  and  to  all  others  whoso  names  are  similarly  used,  it  should  be  known  that  the 
contents  of  that  work  are  mere  stenographic  rejjorts,  by  hired  agents  of  tlie  press,  who  go  to 
church  that  they  may  get  an  article  for  the  next  number  of  The  Pulpit.  While  the  rest  of  the 
congregation  are  hearing  the  sermon  for  spiritual,  they  are  hearing  it  for  pecuniary  profit.  We  see 
no  difference  between  a  week-day  press,  furnished  thus  by  Sunday  writers,  and  a  Sunday-press 
furnished  by  week-day  writers.  "  The  Pulpit "  is  in  this  way  as  much  a  desecrater  of  the  Sab- 
bath as  the  "  Sunday  Morning  Post,"  or  "  Herald."  But  this  is  not  the  point  at  present.  We  are 
looking  at  the  exceeding  injustice  done  to  the  preacher  whose  sermons  are  reported.  It  may  be 
that  he  is  delivering  a  very  familiar,  perhaps  an  unwritten  discourse;  special  circumstances  have 
prevented  his  devoting  the  usual  time  or  mind  to  the  preparation,  or  have  interfered  with  his  get- 
mg  up  the  usual  energy  of  thought  for  the  work.  He  does  not  dream  of  the  public  press.  The 
sermon  may  be  useful  for  his  people,  but  just  the  one  which  he  would  dislike  to  send  out  before 
the  world.  Nevertheless,  the  reporter  for  The  Pulpit  has  happened  to  choose  his  church,  that 
morning,  "for  better,  for  worse,"  and  he  cannot  lose  his  time.  The  tale  of  bricks  must  be  ren- 
dered to  the  taskmaster.  The  i^ress  waits  for  its  article,  and  the  stenographer  wants  his  wages,  and 
favorable  or  unfivorable,  the  report  must  be  printed.  Like  all  such  productions,  it  is  of  course 
often  careless  and  inaccurate  ;  sometimes  provokingly  and  very  injuriously  inaccurate.  The  at- 
tention of  the  scribe  happened  to  be  diverted  at  a  place  of  main  importance  ;  he  lost  the  ex{)lana- 
tory  remark,  the  qualifying  words,  the  connecting  link — his  report  is  thus  untrue  :  either  he  leaves 
the  hiatus,  occasioned  by  his  negligence,  unsupplied,  or,  what  is  often  the  case,  daubs  it  up  with 
his  own  mortar,  puts  many  sentences  into  the  preacher's  mouth  of  his  own  taste  and  divinity — thus 
is  the  precious  specimen  composed,  and  that  week  is  advertised,  to  the  great  mortification  of  tlie 


B  editor's  preface. 

alleged  author,  an  original  sermon  in  the  last  number  of  the  Pulpit,  hythe  Rev.  Henry  Melvill,  S^e, 
Such  is  tlio  history  of  almost  every  serinou  which  has  as  yet  beeu  read  in  tliis  couutry  as  belong- 
ing to  that  author  ;  The  Pulpit,  or  extracts  from  it  having  circulated  widely,  while  the  real  sermons 
of  Melvill,  having  been,  prior  to  this,  confined  to  volumes  of  English  edition,  are  scarcely  known 
among  us.  No  ouo  can  help  seeing  how  injurious  such  surreptitious  publications  must  be  to  the 
preacher ;  what  a  nuisance  to  tlie  body  whom  they  profess  to  represent.  So  is  the  magazine  of 
which  wo  have  been  speaking,  regarded  in  England.  Not  uufrequently  mmisters  have  been 
obhged  to  pnnt  their  discourses  for  the  purpose  of  correcting  the  errors  of  its  reporters.  More 
than  once  its  Editor  has  been  prosecuted  for  the  purpose  (though  in  vain)  of  stopping  this  exceeding- 
ly objectionable  mode  of  sustaining  "  The  Pulpit." 

The  editor  of  these  volumes  has  thought  it  expedient  to  make  these  remarks  by  way  of  explanation 
of  his  having  excluded  all  the  discourses  ascribed  to  Melvill  contained  in  The  Pulpit.  If  there  be 
any  discourses  under  the  same  name,  in  the  other  periodical  of  the  same  character,  called  the 
British  Preacher,  they  are  subject  to  the  same  condemnation. 

It  is  no  little  evidence  of  the  value  of  these  sermons,  in  these  volumes,  which  were  preached  before 
the  University  of  Cambridge,  that  their  publication  was  in  consequence  of  a  request  "  from  the 
resident  Bachelors  and  Uuder-gi'aduates,  headed  by  the  most  distinguished  names,  and  numerously 
Bigned."  A  strong  attestation  has  also  been  given  not  only  to  the  University  sermons,  but  to  those 
preached  in  the  author's  Chapel,  in  Camberwell,  in  the  fact  that,  flooded  as  is  the  market  with  the 
immense  variety  of  pulpit  composition,  which  the  London  press  continually  pours  in,  so  that  a 
bookseller  can  scaixely  be  persuaded  to  publish  a  volume  of  sermons  at  his  own  risk,  and  such  a 
volume  seldom  reaches  beyond  a  single  edition,  these  of  Melvill  have,  in  a  short  time,  attained 
their  third,  and  do  not  cease  to  attract  much  attention.  The  British  Critic,  though  criticismg  with 
some  justice  and  moi-e  severity  some  peculiarities  of  our  author,  speaks  of  the  Cambridge  sermons 
as  "  possessing  many  specimens  of  great  power  of  thought,  and  extraordinary  felicity  and  brilliancy 
of  diction."  "Heartily"  does  the  Reviewer  "admire  the  breathing  words,  the  bold  figm-es, 
the  picturesque  images,  the  forcible  reasonings,  the  rapid,  vivid,  fervid  perorations." 

In  couclusiou  of  this  Preface,  the  Editor  adds  the  earnest  hope  that  the  author  of  these  discourses 
may  receive  wages,  as  well  in  this  couutiy  as  his  own — wages  such  as  best  pay  the  devoted  minis- 
ter of  Christ ;  that  he  may  reap  where  he  did  not  tliiuk  of  sowing,  and  gather  where  he  did  not  ex- 
pect to  strew,  to  the  praise  of  the  glory  of  our  blessed  Lord,  aad  Duly  JSavior  Jesus  Christ. 
*^  C    P.  M. 


SERMON  I. 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


•And  I  wil  put  enmity  between  thee  and  the  woman,  and  between  thy  seed  and  her  seed:  it  shall  bruise  thy  head, 
and  thou  shalt  bruise  his  heel." — Genesis,  iii^  15. 


Such  is  the  first  prophecy  which  oc- 
curs in  Scripture.  Adam  and  Eve  had 
transgressed  the  simple  command  of 
their  Maker;  they  had  hearkened  to  the 
suggestions  of  the  tempter,  and  eaten  of 
the  forbidden  fruit.  Summoned  into  the 
presence  of  God,  each  of  the  three  par- 
ties is  successively  addressed;  but  the 
serpent,  as  having  originated  evil,  re- 
ceives first  his  sentence. 

AVe  have,  of  course,  no  power  of  as- 
certaining the  external  change  Avhich 
the  curse  brought  uj^on  the  serpent. 
The  terms,  however,  of  the  sentence, 
"  upon  thy  belly  shalt  thou  go,  and  dust 
shalt  thou  eat  all  the  days  of  thy  life," 
Gen.  3 :  14,  seem  to  imply  that  the  ser- 
pent had  not  been  created  a  reptile,  but 
became  classed  with  creeping  things,  as 
a  consequence  of  the  curse.  It  is  proba- 
ble that  heretofore  the  serpent  had  been 
remarkable  for  beauty  and  sjjlendor,  and 
that  on  this  account  tl^e  tem^^ter  chose  it 
as  the  vehicle  of  his  apj^roaches.  Eve,  in 
all  likelihood,  was  attracted  towards  the 
creature  by  its  loveliness  :  and  -when  she 
found  it  endowed,  like  herself,  with  the 
power  of  speech,  she  possibly  concluded 
that  it  had  itself  eaten  of  the  fruit,  and  ac- 
quired thereby  a  gift  which  she  thought 
confined  to  herself  and  her  husband. 

But  we  may  be  sure,  that,  although, 
to  mark  his  hatred  of  sin,  God  pro- 
nounced a  curse  on  the  serjient,  it  was 
against  the  devil,  who  had  actuated  the 
serpent,  that  the  curse  was  chiefly  di- 
rected. It  may  be  said  that  the  serpent 
Itself  must  have  been  innocent  in  the 
matter,  and  that  the  curse  should  have 
fallen  on  none  but  the  tempter.  But 
you  are  to  remember  that  the  serpent 


suffered  not  alone  :  every  living  thing 
had  share  in  the  consequences  of  dis- 
obedience. And  although  the  effect  of 
man's  apostacy  on  the  serpent  may  have 
been  moi-e  signal  and  marked  than  on 
other  creatures,  we  have  no  right  to 
conclude  that  there  was  entailed  so 
much  greater  suffering  on  this  reptile 
as  to  distinguish  it  in  misery  from  the 
rest  of  the  animal  creation. 

But  undoubtedly  it  was  the  devil, 
more  emphatically  than  the  serpent,  that 
God  cursed  for  the  seduction  of  man. 
The  woi'ds,  indeed,  of  our  text  have  a 
primary  application  to  the  serpent.  It 
is  most  strictly  true,  that,  ever  since  the 
fall,  there  has  been  enmity  between  man 
and  the  serpent.  Every  man  will  in- 
stinctively recoil  at  the  sight  of  a  ser- 
pent. We  have  a  natural  and  unconquer- 
able aversion  from  this  tribe  of  living 
things,  which  we  feel  not  in  respect  to 
others,  even  fiercer  and  more  noxious. 
Men,  if  they  find  a  serpent,  will  always 
strive  to  destroy  it,  bruising  the  head  in 
which  the  poison  lies ;  whilst  the  serpent 
will  often  avenge  itself,  wounding  its  as- 
sailant, if  not  mortally,  yet  so  as  to  make 
it  true  that  it  bruises  his  heel. 

But  whilst  the  words  have  tlius,  un- 
doubtedly, a  fulfilment  in  respect  of  the 
serpent,  we  cannot  question  that  their 
reference  is  chiefly  to  the  devil.  It  was 
the  devil,  and  not  the  serpent,  which 
had  beguiled  the  woman ;  and  it  is  only 
in  a  very  limited  sense  that  it  could  be 
said  to  the  serpent,  "  Because  thou  hast 
done  this."  We  are  indeed  so  unac- 
quainted ^^^th  transactions  in  the  world 
of  spirits,  that  we  cannot  pretend  to  de- 
termine what,  or  Avhether  any,  immedi- 
2 


10 


THE   I'IRST  pnoPHEcr. 


ate  change  passed  on  the  condition  of 
Satan  and  his  associates.  If  the  curse 
upon  the  serpent  took  effect  upon  the 
devil,  it  would  seem  probable,  that,  ever 
since  the  fall,  the  power  of  Satao  has 
been  specially  limited  to  this  earth  and 
its  inhabitants.  We  may  gather  from 
the  dennuciation,  "Upon  thy  belly shalt 
thou  go,  and  dust  shalt  thou  eat  all  the 
days  of  thy  life,"  that,  in  place  of  being 
allowed,  as  he  might  before  time  have 
been,  to  range  through  the  universe, 
machinating  against  the  peace  of  many 
orders  of  intelligence,  he  was  confined 
to  the  arena  of  humanity,  and  forced  to 
concentrate  his  energies  on  the  destruc- 
tion of  a  solitary  race.  It  would  seem 
altogether  possible,  that,  after  his  eject- 
ment from  heaven,  Satan  had  liberty  to 
traverse  the  vast  ai"ea  of  creation ;  and 
that  far-off  stars  and  planets  were  ac- 
cessible to  his  wanderings.  It  is  to  the 
full  as  possible,  that,  as  soon  as  man 
apostatized,  God  confirmed  in  their  al- 
legiance other  orders  of  beings,  and 
shielded  them  from  the  assaults  of  the 
evil  one,  by  chaining  him  to  the  earth 
on  which  he  had  just  won  a  victory. 
And  if,  as  the  result  of  his  having  se- 
duced our  first  parents,  Satan  were  thus, 
sentenced  to  confinement  to  this  globe, 
we  may  readily  understand  how  words, 
addressed  to  the  serpent,  dooming  it  to 
trail  itself  along  the  ground,  had  distinct 
reference  to  the  tempter  by  whom  that 
eerpent  had  been  actuated. 

But,  whatever  be  our  opinion  concern- 
ing this  part  of  the  curse,  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  our  text  must  be  explained 
of  the  devil,  though,  as  we  have  shown 
you,  it  has  a  partial  fulfilment  in  respect 
of  the  serpent.  We  must  here  consider 
God  as  speaking  to  the  tempter,  and 
announcing  war  between  Satan  and 
man.  We  have  called  the  words  a 
prophecy;  and,  when  considered  as  ad- 
dressed to  the  devil,  such  is  properly 
their  designation.  But  Avhcn  we  re- 
member that  they  were  spoken  in  the 
hearing  of  Adam  and  Eve,  we  must  re- 
gard them  also  in  the  light  of  a  promise. 
And  it  is  well  worth  remark,  that,  be- 
fore God  told  the  woman  of  her  sorrow 
and  her  trouble,  and  before  ho  told  the 
man  of  the  thorn,  and  the  thistle,  and 
]he  dust  to  which  he  should  return,  he 
caused  them  to  hear  words  which  must 
have  inspired  them  with  hope.  Van- 
quished they  were :  and  they  might  have 


thought  that,  with  an  undisputed  su 
I)rcmacy,  he  who  had  prevailed  to  their 
overthrow  would  ever  after  hold  them 
in  vassalage.  Must  it  not  then  have  been 
cheering  to  them,  whilst  they  stood  as 
criminals  before  their  God,  expecting 
the  sentence  which  disobedience  had 
provoked,  to  hear  that  their  conqueror 
should  not  enjoy  unassaulted  his  con- 
quest, but  that  there  were  yet  unde- 
veloped aiTangements  which  would  en- 
sure to  humanity  final  mastery  over  the 
oppressor?  And  though,  when  God 
turned  and  spake  to  themselves,  he  gave 
no  word  of  encouragement,  but  dwelt 
only  on  the  toil  and  the  death  which 
they  had  wrought  into  their  portion,  still 
the  prophecy  to  which  they  had  listened 
must  have  sunk  into  their  hearts  as 
a  promise;  and  when,  with  lingei-ing 
steps,  and  the  first  teai's  ever  wept,  they 
departed  from  the  glorious  precincts  of 
Eden,  we  may  believe  that  one  sustain- 
ed the  other  by  whispering  the  words, 
though  "  thou  shalt  bruise  his  heel,  it 
shall  bi'uise  thy  head." 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  intima- 
tions of  redemption  were  given  to  our 
guilty  parents,  and  that  they  Avere  in- 
structed by  God  to  offer  sacrifices  which 
should  shadow  out  the  method  of  atone- 
ment. And  though  it  does  not  of  course 
fi)llow  that  we  are  in  possession  of  all 
the  notices  mercifully  afforded,  it  seems 
fair  to  conclude,  as  well  from  the  time 
of  delivery  as  from  the  nature  of  the  an- 
nouncement, that  our  text  was  designed 
to  convey  comfort  to  the  desponding; 
and  that  it  was  received  as  a  message 
breathing  deliverance  by  those  who  ex- 
pected an  utter  condemnation. 

Wc  are  not,  however,  much  conccraed 
with  the  degree  in  which  the  prophecy 
was  at  first  understood.  It  cannot  justly 
be  called  an  obscure  prophecy :  for  it  is 
(juite  clear  on  the  fact,  that,  by  somo 
means  or  another,  man  should  gain  ad- 
vantage over  Satan.  And  though,  if  con- 
sidered as  referring  to  Christ,  there  bo 
a  mystery  about  it,  which  could  only  be 
cleared  up  by  after  events,  yet,  as  a 
general  prediction  of  victory,  it  must 
have  commended  itself,  we  think,  to  the 
understanding  and  the  heart  of  those  of 
our  race  by  whom  it  Avas  first  heard. 

But  whether  or  no  the  prophecy  were 
intelligible  to  Adam  and  Eve,  unto  our- 
selves it  is  a  wonderful  passage,  spread- 
ing itself  over  the  whole  of  time,  and 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


11 


giviiifr  outlines  of  the  history  of  this 
world  from  the  beginning  to  the  final 
consummation.  We  caution  you  at  once 
against  an  idea  whicli  many  liavo  enter- 
tained, that  the  prediction  before  us  re- 
fers only,  or  even  chiefly,  to  the  Re- 
deemer. We  shall  indeed  find,  as  we 
proceed,  that  Christ,  who  was  specially 
the  seed  of  the  woman,  specially  bruised 
the  head  of  the  serpent.  But  the  pro- 
phecy is  to  be  interpreted  in  a  much 
larger  sense.  It  is  nothing  less  than  a 
delineation  of  an  unwearied  conflict,  of 
which  this  eaith  shall  be  the  theatre, 
and  which  shall  issue,  though  not  with- 
out partial  disaster  to  man,  in  the  com- 
plete discomfiture  of  Satan  and  his  asso- 
ciates. And  no  man  who  is  familiar  with 
other  predictions  of  Scripture,  can  fail 
to  find,  in  this  brief  and  solitary  verse, 
the  announcement  of  those  very  strug- 
gles and  conquests  whicli  occupy  the 
gorgeous  poetry  of  Isaiah,  and  crowd  the 
mystic  canvass  of  Daniel  and  St.  John. 

We  wish  you,  therefore,  to  dismiss, 
if  you  have  ever  entertained,  contracted 
views  of  the  meaning  of  our  text.  It 
must  strike  you  at  the  first  glance,  that 
though  Christ  was  in  a  peculiar  sense 
the  seed  of  the  woman,  the  phrase  ap- 
plies to  others  as  well  as  the  Redeemer. 
We  are  therefore  bound,  by  all  fair  laws 
of  interpretation,  to  consider  that  the 
prophecy  must  be  fulfilled  in  more  than 
one  individual;  especially  as  it  declares 
that  the  woman,  as  well  as  her  seed, 
should  entertain  the  enmity,  and  thus 
marks  out  more  than  a  single  party  as 
engaging  in  the  conflict. 

Now  there  are  one  or  two  prelimina- 
ry observations  which  require  all  your 
attention,  if  you  hope  to  enter  into  the 
fuH  meaning  of  the  prediction. 

We  wish  you,  first  of  all,  to  remark 
particularly  the  expression,  "I  will  put 
enmity."  The  enmity,  you  observe, 
had  no  natural  existence  :  God  declares 
his  intention  of  putting  enmity.  As 
soon  as  man  transgressed,  his  nature  be- 
came evil,  and  therefore  he  was  at  peace, 
and  not  at  v/ar  with  the  devil.  And 
thus,  had  there  been  no  interference  on 
the  part  of  the  Almighty,  Satan  and  man 
would  have  formed  alliance  against  hea- 
ven, and,  in  place  of  a  contest  between 
themselves,  have  carried  on  nothing  but 
battle  with  God.  There  is  not,  and  can- 
not be,  a  native  enmity  between  fallen 
angels  and  fallen  men.     Both  are  evil, 


and  both  became  evil  through  apostacy. 
But  evil,  wheresoever  it  exists,  will  al- 
ways league  against  good;  so  that  fallen 
angels  and  fallen  men  were  sure  to  join 
in  a  desperiate  companionship.  Hence 
the  declaration,  that  enmity  should  be 
put,  must  have  been  to  Satan  the  first 
notice  of  redemption.  This  lofty  spirit 
must  have  calculated,  that,  if  he  could 
induce  men,  as  he  had  induced  angels, 
to  join  in  rebellion,  he  should  have  them 
for  allies  in  his  every  enterprise  against 
heaven.  There  was  nothing  of  enmity 
between  himself  and  the  spirits  who  had 
joined  in  the  eftbrt  to  dethrone  the  Om- 
nipotent. At  least  whatever  the  feuds 
and  jarrings  which  might  disturb  the 
rebels,  they  were  linked,  as  with  an  iron 
band,  in  the  one  great  ol)ject  of  opposing 
good.  So  that  when  he  heard  that  there 
should  be  enmity  between  himself  and 
the  woman,  he  nnist  have  felt  that  some 
apparatus  would  be  brought  to  bear 
upon  man ;  and  that,  though  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  depraving  human  natuie,  and 
thus  assimilating  it  to  his  own,  it  should 
be  renewed  by  some  mysterious  process, 
and  Avrought  up  to  the  lost  power  of  re- 
sisting its  conqueror. 

And  accordingly  it  has  come  to  pass, 
that  there  is  enmity  on  the  earth  be- 
tween man  and  Satan;  but  an  enmity 
supematurally  put,  and  not  naturally 
entertained.  Unless  God  pour  his  con- 
verting grace  into  the  soul,  there  will  be 
no  attempt  to  oppose  Satan,  but  we  shall 
continue  to  the  end  of  our  days  his  wil- 
ling captives  and  seiTants.  And  there- 
fore it  is  God  who  puts  the  enmity. 
Introducing  a  new  principle  into  the 
heart,  he  causes  conflict  where  there 
had  heretofore  been  peace,  inclining  and 
enabling  man  to  rise  against  his  tyrant. 
So  that,  in  these  first  words  of  the  pro- 
phecy, you  have  the  clearest  intimation 
that  God  designed  to  visit  the  depraved 
nature  with  a  renovating  energy.  And 
now,  whensoever  you  see  an  individual 
delivered  from  the  love,  and  endowed 
with  a  hatred  of  sin,  resisting  those  pas- 
sions which  held  naturally  sway  within 
his  breast,  and  thus  grappling  with  the 
fallen  spirit  which  claims  dominion  upon 
earth,  you  are  sui-\-eying  the  workings 
of  a  principle  which  is  wholly  from 
above ;  and  you  are  to  consider  that  you 
have  before  you  the  fulfilment  of  the 
declaration,  "  I  will  put  enmity  between 
thee  and  the  woman." 


12 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


We  go  on  to  observe  that  the  enmity, 
being  thus  a  superhuman  thing,  implant- 
ed by  God  and  not  generated  by  man, 
will  not  subsist  universally,  but  only  in 
particular  cases.  You  will  have  seen, 
from  our  foresfoinff  showings,  that  a  man 
must  be  renewed  in  order  to  his  fighting 
with  Satan;  so  that  God's  putting  the 
enmity  is  God's  giving  saving  grace. 
The  prophecy  cannot  be  interpreted  as 
declaring  that  the  whole  human  race 
should  be  at  war  with  the  devil:  the 
undoubted  matter-of-fact  being  that  only 
a  portion  of  the  race  resumes  its  loyalty 
to  Jehovali.  And  we  are  bound,  there- 
fore, before  proceeding  further  Avith  our 
interpretation,  to  examine  whether  this 
limitation  is  marked  out  by  the  predic- 
tion— whether,  that  is,  we  might  infer, 
from  the  terms  of  the  prophecy,  that  the 
placed  enmity  would  be  partial,  not  uni- 
versal. 

Now  we  think  that  the  expression, 
"  Thy  seed  and  her  seed,"  shows  at 
once  that  the  enmity  would  be  felt  by 
only  a  part  of  mankind.  The  enmity 
is  to  subsist,  not  merely  between  Satan 
and  the  woman,  but  between  his  seed 
and  her  seed.  But  the  seed  of  Satan 
can  only  be  interpreted  of  wicked  men. 
Thus  Christ  said  to  the  Jews,  "Ye  are 
of  your  father  the  devil;  and  the  lusts 
of  your  father  ye  will  do."  John,  8  :  44. 
Thus  also,  in  expounding  the  parable  of 
the  tares  and  the  wheat,  he  said,  "  The 
tares  are  the  childi'en  of  the  wicked  one." 
Matt.  13  :  38.  There  is,  probably,  the 
same  reference  in  the  expression,  "O 
generation  of  vipers."  And,  in  like  man- 
ner, you  find  St.  John  declaring,  "He 
that  committeth  sin  is  of  the  devil." 
1  John,  3  :  8.  Thus,  then,  by  the  seed  of 
Satan  we  understand  wicked  men,  those 
who  resist  God's  Spirit,  and  obstinately 
adhere  to  the  sei-vice  of  the  devil.  And 
if  we  must  interpret  the  seed  of  Satan 
of  a  portion  of  mankind,  it  is  evident 
that  the  prophecy  marks  not  out  the  en- 
mity as  general,. but  indicates  just  that 
limitation  which  has  been  supposed  in 
our  preceding  remarks. 

But  then  the  question  occurs,  how  are 
we  to  interpret  the  woman  and  her  seed  1 
Such  exjn'ession  seems  to  denote  the 
whole  human  race.  What  riglit  have 
we  to  limit  it  to  a  part  of  that  race  1  We 
reply,  that  it  certainly  does  not  denote 
the  whole  human  race :  for  if  you  inter- 
pret it  literally  of  Eve  and  her  descend- 


ants, Adam,  at  least,  is  left  out,  who 
was  neither  the  woman  nor  her  seed. 
But  without  insisting  on  the  objection 
under  this  form,  fatal  as  it  is  to  the  jiro- 
posed  interpretation,  we  should  not  be 
warranted,  though  we  have  no  distinct 
account  of  the  faith  and  repentance  of 
Adam,  in  so  explaining  a  passage  as  to 
exclude  our  common  forefather  from 
final  salvation.  You  must  see,  that,  if 
we  take  literally  the  woman  and  her 
seed,  no  enmity  was  put  between  Adam 
and  Satan;  for  Adam  was  neither  the 
woman  nor  the  seed  of  the  woman. 
And  if  Adam  continued  in  fiiendship 
mth  Satan,  it  must  be  certain  that  he 
perished  in  his  sins :  a  conclusion  to 
which  we  dare  not  advance  without 
scriptural  testimony  the  most  clear  and 
exjjlicit. 

We  cannot,  then,  imderstand  the  wo- 
man and  her  seed,  as  Eve  and  her  natu- 
ral descendants.  We  must  rather  be- 
lieve, that  as  the  seed  of  the  serjient  is 
to  be  interpreted  sj^iritually  and  sym- 
bolically, so  also  is  the  seed  of  the  wo- 
man. And  when  you  remember  that 
Eve  was  a  signal  type  of  the  church, 
there  is  an  end  of  the  difficulties  by 
which  we  seem  met.  You  know,  from 
the  statement  of  St.  Paul  to  the  Romans, 
that  Adam  was  the  figure  of  Chx-ist.  Rom. 
5:14.  NoAv  it  was  his  standing  to  Eve 
in  the  very  same  relationship  in  which 
Christ  stands  to  the  church,which  special- 
ly^ made  Adam  the  figure  of  Christ.  The 
side  of  Adam  had  been  opened,  when  a 
deep  sleep  fell  on  him,  in  order  that  Eve 
might  be  formed,  an  extract  from  him- 
self. And  thus,  as  Hooker  saith,  "God 
frameth  the  church  out  of  the  very  flesh, 
the  very  wounded  and  bleeding  side  of 
the  Son  of  Man.  His  body  crucified, 
and  his  blood  shed  for  the  life  of  the 
world,  are  the  true  elements  of  that  hea- 
venly being  which  maketh  us  such  as 
himself  is,  of  whom  we  come.  For 
which  cause  the  words  of  Adam  may  be 
fitly  the  words  of  Christ  conceraing  his 
church,  '  Flesh  of  my  flesh,  and  bone  of 
my  bones.' "  We  cannot  go  at  length 
into  the  particulars  of  the  typical  resem- 
blance between  Eve  and  the  church.  It 
is  sufficient  to  obsen-e,  that  since  Adam, 
the  husband  of  Eve,  was  the  figure  of 
Christ,  and  since  Christ  is  the  husband 
of  the  church,  it  seems  naturally  to  fol- 
low that  Eve  was  the  figure  or  type  of 
the  church     And  when  we  have  estab 


tHE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


13 


lished  this  typical  character  of  Eve,  it  is 
easy  to  understand  who  are  meant  by  tlie 
woman  and  her  seed.  The  true  church 
of  God  in  every  age — whether  you  con- 
sider it  as  represented  by  its  head,  which 
is  Christ;  \vhe.ther  you  survey  it  collec- 
tively as  a  body,  or  resolve  it  into  its 
separate  members — this  ti-ue  church  of 
God  must  be  regarded  as  denoted  by  the 
woman  and  her  seed.  And  though  you 
may  think — for  we  wish,  as  we  proceed, 
to  anticipate  objections — that,  if  Eve  be 
the  church,  it  is  strange  that  her  seed 
should  be  also  the  church,  yet  it  is  the 
common  usage  of  Scriptui'e  to  represent 
the  church  as  the  mother,  and  every  new 
conveit  as  a  child.  Thus,  in  addressing 
the  Jewish  church,  and  describing  her 
glory  and  her  greatness  in  the  latter 
days,  Isaiah  saith,  "  Thy  sons  shall  come 
from  far,  and  thy  daughters  shall  be 
nursed  at  thy  side."  And  again — con- 
trasting the  J  ewish  and  Gentile  churches 
— "More  are  the  children  of  the  deso- 
late than  the  children  of  the  married 
wife,  saith  the  Lord."  So  that  although 
the  church  can  be  nothing  more  than  the 
aggregate  of  individual  believers,  the  in- 
spired writers  commonly  describe  the 
church  as  a  parent,  and  believers  as  the 
offspring;  and  in  understanding,  there- 
fore, the  church  and  its  members  by  the 
woman  and  her  seed,  we  cannot  be  ad- 
vocating a  forced  interpretation. 

And  now  we  have  made  a  long  ad- 
vance towards  the  thorough  elucidation 
of  the  prophecy.  We  have  shown  you, 
that,  inasmuch  as  the  enmity  is  super- 
naturally  put,  it  can  only  exist  in  a  por- 
tion of  mankind.  We  then  endeavored 
to  ascertain  this  portion :  and  we  found 
that  the  true  church  of  God,  in  every 
age,  comprehends  all  those  who  war 
with  Satan  and  his  seed.  So  that  the 
representation  of  the  prediction — a  re- 
presentation whose  justice  we  have  yet 
to  examine — is  simply  that  of  a  perpetu- 
al conflict,  on  this  earth,  between  wicked 
angels  and  wicked  men  on  the  one  side, 
and  the  church  of  God,  or  the  company 
'  of  true  believers  on  the  other;  such  con- 
flict, though  occasioning  partial  injury 
to  the  church,  always  issuing  in  the  dis- 
comfiture of  the  wicked. 

We  now  set  ourselves  to  demonstrate 
the  accuracy  of  this  representation.  We 
have  already  said  that  there  are  three 
points  of  view  in  which  the  church  may 
be  regarded.     W^e  may  consider  it,  as 


represented  by  its  head,  which  is  Christ; 
secondly,  collectively  as  a  body ;  thirdly, 
as  resolved  into  its  separate  members. 
We  shall  endeavor  to  show  you  briefly, 
in  each  of  these  cases,  the  fidelity  of  the 
description,  "  It  shall  bruise  thy  head, 
and  thou  shalt  bruise  his  heel." 

Now  the  enmity  was  never  put  in  such 
overpowering  measure,  as  when  the  man 
Christ  Jesus  was  its  residence.  It  was 
in  Christ  Jesus  in  one  sense  naturally, 
and  in  another  supematurally.  He  was 
born  pure,  and  with  a  native  hatred  of 
sin;  but  then  he  had  been  miraculously 
generated,  in  order  that  his  nature  might 
be  thus  hostile  to  evil.  And  never  did 
there  move  the  being  on  this  earth  who 
hated  sin  with  as  perfect  a  hatred,  or 
who  was  as  odious  in  return  to  all  the 
emissaries  of  darkness,  Tt  was  just  the 
holiness  of  the  Mediator  which  stirred 
lip  against  him  all  the  passions  of  a  pro- 
fligate world,  and  provoked  that  fury  of 
assault  which  rushed  in  from  the  hosts 
of  reprobate  spirits.  There  was  thrown 
a  pei'petual  reproach  on  a  proud  and 
sensual  generation,  by  the  spotlessness 
of  that  righteous  individual,  "who  did 
no  sin,  neither  was  guile  found  in  his 
mouth."  1  Pet.  2  :  22.  And  if  he  had  not 
been  so  far  separated,  by  the  purities  of 
life  and  conversation,  from  all  others  of 
his  nature ;  or  if  vice  had  received  a 
somewhat  less  tremendous  rebuke  from 
the  blamelessness  of  his  every  action; 
we  may  be  sure  that  his  might  and  be- 
nevolence would  have  gathered  the  na- 
tion to  his  discipleship,  and  that  the 
multitude  would  never  have  been  work- 
ed up  to  demand  his  crucifixion. 

The  great  secret  of  the  opposition  to 
Christ  lay  in  the  fact,  that  he  was  not 
such  an  one  as  ourselves.  AVe  are  ac- 
customed to  think  that  the  lowliness  of 
his  condition,  and  the  want  of  external 
majesty  and  pomp,  moved  the  Jews  to 
reject  their  Messiah :  yet  it  is  by  no 
means  clear  that  these  were,  in  the  main, 
the  producing  causes  of  rejection.  If 
Christ  came  not  with  the  purple  and  cir- 
cumstance of  human  sovereignty,  he  dis- 
played the  possession  of  a  supernatural 
power,  which,  even  on  the  most  carnal 
calculation,  was  more  valuable,  because 
more  effective,  than  the  stanchest  appa- 
ratus of  earthly  supremacy.  The  pea- 
sant, who  could  work  the  miracles  which 
Christ  worked,  would  be  admitted,  on 
all  hands,  to  have  mightier  engines  at  his 


14 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


disposal  tliun  the  prince  who  is  ch^thed 
with  the  ermine  and  folluwed  by  the  war- 
riors. And  it"  tlie  Jews  h)oked  tor  a  Mes- 
siah wlio  woukl  lead  them  to  mastery 
over  enemies,  then,  we  contend,  tliere 
was  every  thing  in  Christ  to  induce  them 
to  give  liim  their  allegiance.  The  power 
which  could  vamjuish  death  by  a  word 
might  cause  hosts  to  fall,  as  fell  the  hosts 
of  Sennacherib;  and  where  then  was  the 
foe  who  could  have  resisted  the  leader  ? 

AVe  cannot,  therefore,  think  that  it 
was  merely  the  absence  of  human  pa- 
geantry which  moved  the  great  ones  of 
Judea  to  throw  scorn  upon  Jesus.  It  is 
true,  they  were  expecting  an  earthly  de- 
liverer. But  Christ  displayed  precisely 
those  powers,  which  wielded  by  Moses, 
had  prevailed  to  deliver  their  nation 
from  Egypt;  and  assuredly  then,  if  that 
sti'ength  dwelt  in  Jesus  which  had  dis- 
comtited  Pharaoh,  and  broken  the  thral- 
dom of  centuries,  it  could  not  have  been 
the  proved  incapacity  of  effecting  tempo- 
ral deliverance  which  induced  j)harisees 
and  scribes  to  I'eject  their  Messiah.  They 
could  have  tolerated  the  meanness  of  his 
parentage ;  for  that  was  more  tlian  com- 
pensated by  the  majesty  of  his  power. 
They  could  have  endured  the  lowliness  of 
his  appearance ;  for  they  could  set  against 
it  his  evident  communion  with  divinity. 

But  the  righteous  fervor  with  which 
Christ  denounced  every  abomination  in 
the  land;  the  untainted  purity  by  which 
he  shamed  the  "  whlted  sepulchres"  who 
deceived  the  people  by  the  appearance 
of  sanctity;  the  rich  loveliness  of  a  cha- 
racter in  which  zeal  for  God's  glory  was 
unceasingly  uppermost;  the  beautiful 
lustre  which  encompassed  a  being  who 
could  hate  only  one  thing,  but  that  one 
thing  sin ;  these  wei-e  the  producing 
causes  of  bitter  hostility ;  and  they  who 
would  have  hailed  the  wonder-worker 
with  the  shout  and  the  plaudit,  had  he 
£.ll()wod  some  license  to  the  evil  passions 
of  our  nature,  gave  him  nothing  but  the 
Bneer  and  the  execration,  when  he  waged 
open  war  with  lust  and  hy})ocrlsy. 

And  thus  it  was  that  enmity,  the  fierc- 
est and  most  inveterate,was  put  between 
the  seed  of  the  woman  and  the  seed  of 
the  serpent.  The  serpent  himself  came 
to  the  assistance  of  his  seed;  evil  angels 
conspired  with  evil  Tnen ;  and  the  wliole 
energies  of  apostacy  gathered  themselves 
to  the  effort  of  destniying  the  chamjn- 
on  of  God  and  of  truth.     Yea,  and  for  a 


while  success  seemed  to  attend  the  en- 
deavor. There  was  a  bruising  of  the 
heel  of  the  seed  of  the  woman.  "He 
came  unto  his  own,  and  his  own  received 
him  not."  John,  1:  11.  Charged  only 
with  an  embassage  of  mercy;  sent  by 
the  Father — not  to  condemn  the  workl, 
though  rebellion  had  overspread  its  jiro- 
vinces,  and  there  was  done  the  foulest 
despite  to  God,  in  its  c'e^  section,  and 
by  its  every  tenant — but  that  the  world 
through  him  might  have  life ;  he  was, 
nevertheless,  scorned  as  a  deceiver,  and 
hunted  down  as  a  malefactor.  And  if  it 
were  a  bruising  of  the  heel,  that  he  should 
be  "  a  man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted 
with  grief,"  Isaiah,  53:  3;  that  a  nation 
should  despise  him,  and  fiiends  deny  and 
forsake  and  betray  him;  that  he  should 
be  buffeted  with  temptation,  convulsed 
by  agony,  lacerated  by  stripes,  pierced 
by  nails,  crowned  with  thorns ;  then  was 
the  heel  of  the  Redeemer  bruised  by 
Satan,  for  to  all  this  injury  the  fallen 
anjjel  institrated  and  nei'ved  his  seed. 
But  though  the  heel  was  bruised,  this 
was  the  whole  extent  of  effected  damage. 
There  was  no  real  advantage  gained  over 
the  Mediator :  on  the  contrary,  whilst  Sa 
tail  was  in  the  act  of  bruising  Christ's 
heel,  Christ  was  in  the  act  of  bruising 
Satan's  head.  The  Savior,  indeed,  ex- 
posed himself  to  every  kind  of  insult  and 
wrong.  Whilst  enduring  "  the  contradic- 
tion of  sinners  against  himself,"  Heb.  12 : 
3,  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that  a  strange  re- 
sult was  brought  round  by  the  machina- 
tions of  the  evil  ones;  forsuffering,which 
is  the  attendant  on  sinfulness,  was  made 
to  empty  all  its  pangs  into  the  bosom  of 
innocence.  And  seeing  that  his  holiness 
should  have  exempted  his  humanity  from 
all  klnsmanship  with  sorrow  and  an- 
guish, we  are  free  to  allow  that  the  heel 
was  bruised,  when  pain  found  entrance 
into  this  humanity,  and  grief,  heavier 
than  had  oppressed  any  being  of  our  race, 
weighed  doAvn  his  over-wrouglit  sj)lrlt. 
But,  then,  there  was  not  an  iota  of  his 
sutrcrings  which  went  not  towards  liqui- 
dating the  vast  debt  which  man  owed  to 
God,  and  which,  therefore,  contributed 
not  to  our  redemption  from  bondage. 
There  was  not  a  pang  by  which  the  Me- 
diator was  torn,  and  not  a  grief  by  which 
his  soul  was  disquieted,  which  helped 
not  on  the  achievement  of  human  deliv- 
erance, and  which,  therefore,  dealt  not 
o!it  a  blow  to  the   despotism  of  Satan 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


15 


So  that,  from  the  beginning,  the  bruising 
of  Christ's  heel  was  the  bruising  of  Sa- 
tan's head.  In  prevaiUng,  so  far  as  he 
did  prevail,  against  Christ,  Satan  was 
only  eftecting  his  own  discomfiture  and 
downfall.  He  touched  the  heel,  he  could 
not  touch  the  head  of  the  Mediator.  If 
he  could  have  seduced  him  into  the  com- 
mission of  evil;  if  he  could  have  pro- 
faned, by  a  solitary  thouglit,  the  sanctu- 
ary of  his  soul ;  then  it  would  have  been 
the  head  which  lie  had  bruised;  and 
rising  triumphant  over  man's  surety,  he 
would  have  shouted,  "Victory!"  and 
this  creation  have  become  for  ever  his 
own.  But  whilst  he  could  only  cause 
pain,  and  not  pollution ;  whilst  he  could 
dislocate  by  agony,  but  not  defile  by  im- 
purity; he  reached  indeed  the  heel,  but 
came  not  near  the  head;  and,  making 
the  Savior's  life-time  one  dark  series  of 
afflictions,  weakened,  at  every  step,  his 
own  hold  upon  humanity. 

And  when,  at  last,  he  so  bruised  the 
heel  as  to  nail  Christ  to  the  cross,  amid 
the  loathino^s  and  revilino^s  of  the  multi- 
tude,  then  it  was  that  his  own  head  was 
bruised,  even  to  the  being  crushed. 
"Through  death,"  we  are  told,  "Clirist 
Jesus  destroyed  him  tliat  had  the  power 
of  death,  that  is,  the  devil."  Heb.  2  :  14. 
He  fell  indeed;  and  evil  angels,  and  evil 
men,  mig^ht  have  thoufjht  him  for  ever  de- 
feated.  But  in  grasping  this  mighty  prey, 
death  paralyzed  itself;  in  breaking  down 
the  temple,  Satan  demolished  his  own 
throne.  It  was,  as  ye  all  know,  by  dy- 
ing, that  Christ  finished  the  achievement 
which,  from  all  eternity,  he  had  cove- 
nanted to  undertake.  By  dying,  he  rein- 
stated fallen  man  in  the  position  from 
which  he  had  been  hurled.  Death  came 
against  the  Mediator;  but,  in  submit- 
ting to  it,  Christ,  if  we  may  use  such 
irftage,  seized  on  the  destroyer,  and, 
waving  the  skeleton-form  as  a  sceptre 
over  this  creation,  broke  the  spell  of  a 
thousand  generations,  dashing  away  the 
chains,  and  opening  the  graves,  of  an 
oppressed  and  rifled  population.  And 
when  he  had  died,  and  descended  into 
the  grave,  and  returned  without  seeing 
corruption,  then  was  it  made  possible 
that  every  child  of  Adam  might  be  eman- 
cipated from  the  dominion  of  evil ;  and, 
in  place  of  the  wo  and  the  shame  which 
transgression  had  won  as  the  heritage  of 
man,  there  was  the  beautiful  brightness 
of  a  purchased  immortality  wooing  the 


acceptance  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of 
our  race.  The  strong  mar  armed  had 
kept  his  goods  in  peace;  and  Satan, 
having  seduced  men  to  be  his  compan- 
ions in  rebellion,  might  have  felt  secure 
of  having  them  as  his  companions  in  tor- 
ment. But  the  stronger  than  he  drew 
nigh,  and,  measuring  weapons  with  him 
in  the  garden  and  on  the  cross,  received 
wounds  which  were  but  trophies  of  vic- 
tory, and  dealt  wounds  which  annihilated 
power.  And  when,  bruised  indeed,  yet 
only  marked  with  honorable  scars  which 
told  out  bis  triumph  to  the  loftiest  orders 
of  intelligent  being,  the  Redeemer  of 
mankind  soared  on  high,  and  sent  pro- 
clamation through  the  universe,  that 
death  was  abolished,  and  the  ruined  re- 
deemed, and  the  gates  of  heaven  thrown 
open  to  the  rebel  and  the  outcast,  was 
there  not  an  accomplishment,  the  most 
literal  and  the  most  energetic,  of  that 
prediction  which  declared  to  Satan  con- 
cerning the  seed  of  the  woman,  "  it  shall 
bruise  thy  head,  and  thou  shalt  bruise  his 
heel]" 

Such  is  the  first  and  great  fulfilment 
of  the  prophecy.  The  church,  repre- 
sented by  its  head  who  was  specially 
the  seed  of  the  woman,  overthrew  the 
devil  in  one  decisive  and  desperate  strug- 
gle, and,  though  not  itself  unwounded, 
received  no  blow  which  rebounded  not 
to  the  crushing  its  opponent. 

We  proceed,  secondly,  to  consider  the 
church  collectively  as  a  body.  We  need 
scarcely  observe  that,  from  the  first,  the 
risfhteous  anion "■st  men  have  been  ob- 
jects  of  the  combined  assault  of  their 
evil  fellows  and  evil  angels.  The  enmity 
has  been  put,  and  strikingly  developed. 
On  the  one  hand,  it  has  been  the  endea- 
vor of  the  church  to  vindicate  God's 
honor,  and  aiTest  the  workings  of  wick- 
edness: on  the  other,  it  has  been  the  ef- 
fort of  the  serpent  and  his  seed  to  sweep 
fi-om  the  earth  these  upholders  of  piety. 
And  though  the  promise  has  all  along 
been  verified,  that  the  gates  of  hell  shall 
not  prevail  against  the  church,  it  cannot 
be  denied  that  a  great  measure  of  suc- 
cess has  attended  the  strivings  of  tlie  ad- 
versary. If  you  only  call  to  mind  what 
fierce  persecution  has  rushed  against  the 
righteous ;  how  by  one  engine  or  anoth- 
er there  has  been,  oftentimes,  almost 
a  thorough  extinction  of  the  very  name 
of  Christianity;  and  how,  when  outward- 
ly there  has  been  peace,  tares,  sown  by 


16 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


the  enemy,  have  sent  up  a  harvest  of 
perilous  heresies;  you  cannot  withhold 
your  acknowledgment  that  Satan  has 
bruised  the  heel  of  the  church.  But  he 
aas  done  nothing  more.  If  he  have  he^^^l 
down  tliousands  hy  the  sword,  and  con- 
sumed thousands  at  the  stake,  thousands 
have  sprung  forward  to  fill  up  the  breach ; 
and  if  he  have  succeeded  in  pouring 
forth  a  flood  of  pestilential  doctrine,  there 
have  arisen  stanch  advocates  of  truth 
who  have  stemmed  the  toiTent,  and 
snatched  the  articles  of  faith,  uninjured, 
from  the  deluge.  There  has  never  been 
the  time  when  God  has  been  left  with- 
out a  watness  ujion  earth.  And  though 
the  church  has  often  been  sickly  and 
weak;  though  the  best  blood  has  been 
drained  from  her  veins,  and  a  languor, 
like  that  of  moral  palsy,  has  settled  on 
her  limbs;  still  life  hath  never  been 
wholly  extinguished ;  but,  after  a  while, 
the  sinkinsT  euerg:ics  have  been  marvel- 
lously  recruited,  and  the  worn  and  wast- 
ed body  has  risen  up  more  athletic  than 
before,  and  disj^layed  to  the  nations  all 
the  vigor  of  renovated  youth. 

So  that  only  the  heel  has  been  bruised. 
And  since,  up  to  the  second  advent  of 
the  Lord,  the  church  shall  be  battered 
with  heresy,  and  persecution,  and  infi- 
delity, we  look  not,  under  the  present 
dispensation,  for  discontinuance  of  this 
bruising  of  the  heel.  Yet,  while  Satan 
is  bruising  the  church's  heel,  the  church, 
by  God's  hel25,  is  bruising  Satan's  head. 
The  church  may  be  compelled  to  pro- 
phesy in  sackcloth.  Affliction  may  be 
her  portion,  as  it  was  that  of  her  glorified 
head.  But  the  church  is,  throughout, 
God's  witness  upon  earth.  The  claurch 
is  God's  instrument  for  carrying  on  those 
purposes  Avhich  shall  terminate  in  the 
final  setting  up  of  the  Mediator's  king- 
dom. And,  oh,  there  is  not  won  over  a 
single  soul  to  Christ,  and  the  Gospel 
message  makes  not  its  way  to  a  single 
heart,  without  an  attendant  effect  as  of 
a  stamping  on  the  head  of  the  tempter: 
for  a  captive  is  delivered  from  the  ojs- 
pressor,  and  to  deliver  the  slave  is  to 
defeat  the  tyrant.  Thus  the  seed  of  the 
woman  is  continually  bruising  the  head 
of  the  serpent.  And  whensoever  the 
church,  as  an  engine  in  God's  hands, 
makes  a  successful  stand  for  piety  and 
trutli ;  whensoever,  sending  out  her  mis- 
sionaries to  the  broad  waste  of  heathen- 
ism, she  demolishes  an  altar  of  supersti- 


tion, and  teaches  the  pagan  to  cast  his 
idols  to  the  mole  and  the  bat;  or  when- 
soever, assaulting  mere  nominal  Chris- 
tianity, she  fastens  men  to  practice  as 
the  alone  test  of  profession;  then  does 
she  strike  a  blow  which  is  felt  at  the  veiy 
centre  of  the  kingdom  of  darkness,  and 
then  is  she  experiencing  a  partial  fulfil- 
ment of  the  promise,  "  God  shall  bruise 
Satan  under  your  feet  shortly."  Rom. 
16:  20. 

And  when  the  fierce  and  on-going  con- 
flict shall  be  brought  to  a  close;  when 
this  burdened  creation  shall  have  shakeii 
off  the  slaves  and  the  objects  of  concu- 
piscence, and  the  church  of  the  living 
God  shall  reign,  with  its  head,  over  the 
tribes  and  provinces  of  an  evangelized 
earth;  then  in  the  completeness  of  the 
triumph  of  righteousness  shall  be  the 
completeness  of  the  serpent's  discomfi- 
ture. And  as  the  angel  and  the  archan- 
gel contrast  the  slight  injury  which  Sa- 
tan could  ever  cause  to  the  church,  with 
that  overwhelming  ruin  ^vhich  the  church 
has,  at  last,  hurled  douii  upon  Satan;  as 
they  compare  the  brief  struggle  and  the 
everlasting  glory  of  the  one,  with  the 
shadowy  success  and  the  never-ending 
torments  of  the  other;  will  they  not  de- 
cide, and  tell  out  their  decision  in  lan- 
guage of  rapture  and  admiration,  that,  if 
ever  prediction  were  fulfilled  to  the  very 
letter,  it  is  that  which,  addressed  to  the 
serpent,  and  describing  the  chui-ch  as  the 
seed  of  the  woman,  declared,  "it  shall 
bruise  thy  head,  and  thou  shalt  bruise  his 
heell" 

Such  is  the  second  fulfilment  of  the 
prophecy  of  our  text.  The  church,  con- 
sidered collectively  as  a  body,  is  so  as- 
saulted by  the  serpent  and  his  seed  that 
its  heel  is  bruised :  but  even  now  it  of- 
fers such  resistance  to  evil,  and  hereafter 
it  shall  triumph  so  signally  over  every 
02-)ponent,  that  the  prediction,  "it  shall 
bruise  thy  head,"  must  be  received  as 
destined  to  a  literal  accomplishment. 

We  have  yet  to  notice  the  third  fulfil- 
ment.  We  may  resolve  the  church  into 
its  separate  members,  and,  taking  each 
individual  believer  as  the  seed  of  the 
woman,  show  you  how  our  text  is  real- 
ized in  his  experience. 

Now  if  there  be  enmity  between  the 
serpent  and  the  church  generally,  of 
course  there  is  also  between  the  serpent 
and  each  member  of  that  church.  We 
have  already  giv«n  it  as  the  description 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


17 


of  a  converted  man,  that  he  has  been  su- 
pernaturally  excited  to  a  war  with  the 
devil.  Whilst  left  in  the  darkness  and 
alienation  of  nature,  he  submits  willing- 
ly to  the  dominion  of  evil :  evil  is  his  ele- 
ment, and  he  neither  strives  nor  wishes 
for  emancipation.  But  when  the  grace 
of  God  is  introduced  into  his  heart,  he 
will  discern  quickly  the  danger  and  hate- 
fulness  of  sin,  and  will  yield  himself,  in 
a  higher  strength  than  his  own,  to  the 
work  of  resisting  the  serpent.  Thus  en- 
mity is  put  between  tlie  believer  and  the 
serpent  and  his  seed.  Let  a  man  give 
himself  to  the  concerns  of  eternity; 
let  him,  in  good  earnest,  set  about  the 
business  of  the  soul's  salvation;  and  he 
will,  assui'edly,  draw  upon  himself  the 
dislike  and  opposition  of  a  whole  circle 
of  worldly  acquaintance,  so  that  his  over- 
preclseness  and  austerity  will  become 
subject  of  ridicule  in  his  village  or  neigh- 
borhood. We  quite  mistake  the  nature 
both  of  Christianity  and  of  man,  if  we 
suppose  that  opposition  to  religion  can 
be  limited  to  an  age  or  a  country.  Per- 
secution, in  its  most  teriible  forms,  is 
only  the  development  of  a  principle 
which  must  unavoidably  exist  until  either 
Christianity  or  human  nature  be  altered. 
There  is  a  necessary  repugnance  be- 
tween Christianity  and  human  nature. 
The  two  cannot  be  amalgamated :  one 
must  be  changed  before  it  will  combine 
with  the  other.  And  we  fear  that  this  is, 
in  a  degree,  an  overlooked  truth,  and 
that  men  are  disposed  t6  assign  persecu- 
tion to  local  or  temporary  causes.  But 
we  wish  you  to  be  clear  on  the  fact,  that 
"the  offence  of  the  cross,"  Gal.  5:  11, 
has  not  ceased,  and  cannot  cease.  We 
readily  allow  that  the  form,  under  which 
the  hatred  manifests  itself,  will  be  sensi- 
bly affected  by  the  civilization  and  intel- 
ligence of  the  age.  In  days  of  an  imper- 
fect refinement  and  a  scanty  literature, 
you  will  find  this  hatred  uiisheathing  the 
sword,  and  lighting  the  pile :  but  when 
human  society  is  at  a  high  point  of  po- 
lish and  knowledge,  and  the  principles  of 
religious  toleration  are  well  undci'stood, 
there  is,  perhaps,  comparatively,  small 
likelihood  that  savage  violence  will  be 
the  engine  employed  against  godliness. 
Y^et  there  are  a  hundred  batteries  which 
may  and  will  be  opened  upon  the  righ- 
teous. The  follower  of  Christ  must  cal- 
culate on  many  sneers,  and  much  revil- 
ing.    He  must  look  to  meet  often  with 


coldness  and  contempt,  harder  of  endu- 
rance than  many  forms  of  martyrdom; 
for  the  courage  which  could  march  to  the 
stake  may  be  daunted  by  a  laugh.  And, 
frequently,  the  opposition  assumes  a 
more  decided  shape.  The  parent  will  act 
harshly  towards  the  child ;  the  superior 
withdraw  his  countenance  fiom  the  de 
pendent;  and  all  because  of  a  giving 
heed  to  the  directions  of  Scripture.  Re 
ligion,  as  though  it  were  rebellion,  alien 
ates  the  affections,  and  alters  the  wills,  of 
fathers  and  guardians.  So  that  we  tell 
an  individual  that  he  blinds  himself  to 
plain  matters  of  fact,  if  he  espouse  the 
opinion  that  the  apostle's  words  applied 
only  to  the  first  ages  of  Christianity,  "  all 
that  will  live  godly  in  Christ  Jesus  shall 
suffer  persecution."  2  Tim.  3  :  12.  To 
"live  godly  in  Christ  Jesus"  is  to  havt 
enmity  put  between  yourselves  and  th< 
seed  of  the  serpent;  and  you  maybe  as 
sured,  that,  unless  this  enmity  be  merelj 
nominal  on  your  side,  it  will  manifest  it 
self  by  acts  on  the  other. 

Thus  the  prophecy  of  our  text  an 
nounces,  what  has  been  verified  by  the 
history  of  all  ages,  that  no  man  can  serve 
God  without  uniting  against  himself  evil 
men  and  evil  angels.  Evil  angels  will 
assault  him,  alarmed  that  their  prey  is 
escaping  ft-om  their  gi-asp.  Evil  men, 
rebuked  by  his  example,  will  become 
agents  of  the  serpent,  and  strive  to 
wrench  him  from  his  riohteousness. 

But  v.'hat,  after  all,  is  the  amount  of 
injury  which  the  serpent  and  his  seed 
can  cause  to  God's  children  ]  Is  it  not  a 
truth,  which  can  only  then  be  denied 
when  you  have  cashiered  the  authority 
of  every  page  of  the  Bible,  that  he  who 
believes  upon  Christ,  and  who,  therefore, 
has  been  adopted  through  faith  into  G  od's 
family,  is  certain  to  be  made  more  than 
conqueror,  and  to  trample  under  foot 
every  enemy  of  salvation  1  The  conflict 
between  a  believer  and  his  foes  may  be 
long  and  painful.  The  Christian  may  be 
often  forced  to  exclaim  with  St.  Paul, 
"  O  wretched  man  that  I  am.  who  shall 
deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death  1 " 
Rom.  7:  24.  Engaged  with  the  triple 
band  of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  de- 
vil, he  will  experience  many  partial  de- 
feats, and  surprised  off  his  guard,  or 
wearied  out  with  watchings,  will  yield 
to  temptation,  and  so  fall  into  sin.  But 
it  is  certain,  certain  as  that  God  is  om- 
nipotent and  faithful,  that  the  once  justi- 
3 


16 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


fied  man  shall  be  enabled  to  persevere  to 
the  end ;  to  persevere,  not  in  an  idle  de- 
pendence on  privileges,  but  in  a  struggle 
wliicli,  if"  for  iin  instant  interrupted,  is 
sure  to  be  vehemently  renewed.  And, 
therefoi'e,  tlic  bruising  of  the  heel  is  the 
sum  total  of  the  mischief.  Thus  much, 
undoubtedly,  the  serpent  can  effect.  He 
can  harass  with  temptation,  and  occa- 
eionally  prevail.  But  he  cannot  undo  the 
radical  work  of  conversion.  He  cannot 
eject  the  pinncijjle  of  grace;  and  he  can- 
not, therefore,  bring  back  the  man  into 
the  condition  of  his  slave  or  his  subject. 
Thus  he  cannot  wound  the  head,  of  the 
new  man.  He  may  diminish  his  com- 
forts. He  may  impede  his  growth  in  ho- 
liness. He  may  inject  doubts  and  sus- 
picions, and.  thus  keep  him  disquieted, 
when,  if  he  would  live  up  to  his  privi- 
leges, he  might  rejoice  and  be  peaceful. 
But  all  this — and  we  show  you  here  the 
full  sweep  of  the  serpent's  power — still 
leaves  the  man  a  believer;  and,  there- 
fore, all  this,  though  it  bruise  the  heel, 
toucLics  not  the  head. 

And  though  the  believer,  like  the  un- 
believer, must  submit  to  the  power  of 
death,  and  tread  the  dark  valley  of  that 
curse  which  still  rests  on  our  nature,  is 
there  experienced  more  than  a  bruising 
of  the  heel  in  the  undergoing  this  disso- 
lution of  humanity  ]  It  is  an  injury — for 
we  go  not  with  those  who  would  idolize, 
or  soften  down,  death — that  the  soul 
must  be  detached  from  the  body,  and 

nt  out,  a  widowed  thing,  on  the  broad 
journeyings  of  eternity.  It  is  an  injury, 
that  this  curious  framework  of  matter,  as 
much  redeemed  by  Christ  as  the  giant- 
guest  which  it  encases,  must  be  taken 
down,  joint  by  joint,  and  rafter  by  rafter, 
and,  resolved  into  its  original  elements, 
lose  every  trace  of  having  been  human. 
But  what,  we  again  say,  is  the  extent  of 
this  injury"?  The  foot  of  the  destroyer 
shall  be  set  upon  the  body ;  and  he  shall 
stani])  till  he  have  ground  it  into  powder, 
and  dispersed  it  to  the  winds.  But  he 
caimot  annihilate  a  lonely  particle.  He 
can  put  no  arx'est  on  that  germinating 
process  which  shall  yet  cause  the  valleys 
and  mountains  of  this  globe  to  stand 
thick  with  a  harvest  of  flesh.  He  cannot 
hinder  my  resun-ection.  And  when  the 
soul,  over  which  he  hulh  had  no  power, 
rushes  into  the  body  which  he  shall  be 
forced  to  resign,  and  the  cliild  of  God 
stands  forth  a  man,   yet  immortal,  com- 


pound of  flesh  and  spirit,  but  each  pure, 
each  indestructible; — oh,  though  Satan 
may  have  battered  at  his  peace  during  a 
long  earthly  pilgrimage;  though  he  may 
have  marred  his  happiness  by  successful 
temptation ;  though  he  may  have  detain- 
ed for  centuries  his  body  in  coiTuption; 
will  not  the  inflicted  injury  appclar  to 
have  been  so  trivial  and  insignificant,  that 
a  bruising  of  the  heel,  in  place  of  falling 
short  of  the  matter-of-fact,  shall  itself 
seem  almost  an over^^Tought  description? 
And,  all  the  while,  though  Satan  can 
only  bruise  the  believer's  heel,  the  be- 
liever is  bruising  Satan's  head.  If  the 
believer  be  one  who  fights  the  serjient, 
and  finally  conquers,  by  that  final  con- 
quest the  serpent's  head  is  bruised.  If 
he  be  naturally  the  slave  of  the  serpent ; 
if  he  rebel  against  the  tyrant,  throw  off 
his  chains,  and  vanquish  him,  fighting 
inch  by  inch  the  ground  to  freedom  and 
glory;  then  he  bruises  the  serpent's 
head.  If  two  beings  are  antagonists,  he 
who  decisively  overcomes  bruises  the 
head  of  his  opponent.  But  the  believer 
and  the  serpent  are  antagonists.  The 
believer  gains  completely  the  mastery 
over  the  serpent.  And,  therefoi-e,  the 
result  of  the  contest  is  the  fulfilment  of 
the  prediction  that  the  seed  of  the  wo- 
man shall  bruise  the  head  of  the  serpent. 
Oh,  if,  as  we  well  know,  the  repentance 
of  a  single  sinner  send  a  new  and  exqui- 
site delight  down  the  ranks  of  the  hosts 
of  heaven,  and  cause  the  sweeping  of  a 
rich  and  glorious  anthem  from  the  count- 
less harps  of  the  sky,  can  we  doubt  that 
the  same  event  spreads  consternation 
through  the  legions  of  fallen  spirits, 
and  strikes,  like  a  death-blow,  on  their 
haughty  and  malignant  leader?  Ay, 
and  we  believe  that  never  is  Satan  so 
taught  his  subjugated  estate,  as  when  a 
soul,  which  he  had  counted  as  his  own, 
escapes  "as  a 'bird  out  of  the  snare  of 
the  fowlers,"  Psalm  124:  7,  and  seeks 
and  finds  ]irotection  in  Jesus.  I£  it  be 
then  that  Christ  sees  "of  the  travail  of 
his  soul,"  Isaiah,  53:  11,  it  must  be  ihcu 
that  the  serpent  tastes  all  the  bitterness 
of  defeat.  And  when  the  warfare  is  over, 
and  the  spirit,  which  he  hath  longed  to 
destroy,  soars  away,  convoyed  by  the 
angels  which  wait  on  the  heirs  of  salva- 
tion, must  it  not  be  then  that  the  con- 
sciousness of  lost  masteiy  seizes,  with 
crushing  force,  on  the  proud  foe  of  our 
race;   and  does  not  that  fierce   cry  of 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


19 


disappointment  which  seems  to  follow 
the  ascending  soul,  causing  her  to  feel 
herself  only  "scarcely  saved,"  1  Pet. 
4:  18,  testify  that,  in  thus  winning  a 
heritage  of  glory,  the  believer  hath 
bruised  the  head  of  the  serpent? 

We  shall  not  examine  fuithef  this 
third  fululmcnt  of  the  prophecy  of  our 
text.  But  we  think  that  when  you  con- 
trast the  slight  injury  which  Satan,  at 
the  worst,  can  cause  to  a  believer,  with 
the  mighty  blow  which  the  deliverance 
of  a  believer  deals  out  to  Satan;  the 
nothingness,  at  last,  of  the  harm  done 
to  God's  people,  with  that  fearful  dis- 
comfiture which  their  individual  i-(?scue 
fastens  on  the  devil;  you  will  confess, 
that,  considering  the  church  as  resolved 
into  its  separate  members,  just  as  when 
you  survey  it  collectively  as  a  body,  or 
as  represented  by  its  head,  there  is  a 
literal  accomplishment  of  this  predic- 
tion to  the  serpent  conccraing  the  seed 
of  the  woman,  "it  shall  bruise  thy  head, 
and  thou  shalt  bruise  his  heel." 

We  have  thus,  as  we  trust,  shown  you 
that  the  prophecy  of  our  text  extends 
itself  over  the  whole  surface  of  time,  so 
that,  from  the  fall  of  Adam,  it  has  been 
receiving  accomplishment,  and  will  con- 
tinue being  fulfilled  until  "death  and 
hell  are  cast  into  the  lake  of  fire."  Rev. 
20 :  14.  It  was  a  wonderful  announce- 
ment, and,  if  even  but  imperfectly  un- 
derstood, must  have  confounaed  the 
serpent,  and  cheered  Adam  and  Eve. 
Dust  shalt  thou  eat,  foe  of  humankind, 
when  this  long  oppressed  creation  is 
delivered  from  thy  despotism.  As 
though  to  mark  to  us  that  there  shall 
be  no  suspension  of  the  doom  of  our 
destroyer,  whilst  this  earth  rejoices  in 
the  restitution  of  all  things,  Isaiah,  in  de- 
scribing millennial  harmony,  still  leaves 
the  serpent  under  the  sentence  of  our 
text.  "The  wolf  and  the  lamb  shall 
feed  together;  and  the  lion  shall  eat 
Btraw  like  the  bullock;   and  dust  shall 


he  tlie  serpent's  meat."  Isaiah,  65 :  25. 
There  comes  a  day  of  deliverance  to 
every  other  creature,  but  none  to  the 
serpent.  Oh,  mysterious  dealing  of  our 
God!  that  for  fallen  ango-ls  there  hath 
been  no  atonement,  for  fallen  men  a  full, 
perfect,  and  sufficient.  They  were  far 
nobler  than  we,  of  a  loftier  intelligence 
and  more  splendid  endowment;  yet 
("how  unsearchable  are  his  judg- 
ments") we  are  taken  and  they  are 
left.  "For  verily  he  taketh  not  hold  of 
angels,  but  of  the  seed  of  Abrnham  he 
taketh  hold."  Hebrews,  2 :  16,  margi- 
nal reading. 

And  shall  we,  thus  singled  out  and 
made  objects  of  mai-vellous  mercy,  re- 
fuse to  be  delivered,  and  take  our  por- 
tion with  those  who  are  both  fallen  and 
unredeemed]  Shall  we  eat  the  dust, 
when  we  may  efCt  of  "  the  bread  which 
comet  hclown  from  heaven?"  John,  6: 
50.  Covetous  man !  thy  money  is  the 
dust;  thou  art  eating  the  serpent's 
meat.  Sensual  man  !  thy  gratifications 
are  of  the  dust ;  thou  art  eating  the 
serpent's  meat.  Ambitious  man !  thine 
honors  are  of  the  dust ;  thou  art  eatina 
the  serpent's  meat.  O  God,  put  enmity 
between  us  and  the  serpent.  Will  ye, 
every  one  of  you,  use  that  short  prayer 
ere  ye  lie  down  to .  rest  this  night,  O 
God,  put  enmity  between  us  and  the 
serpent  %  If  ye  are  not  at  enmity,  his 
folds  are  round  your  limbs.  If  ye  are 
not  at  enmity,  his  sting  is  at  your  heart. 
But  if  ye  will,  henceforward,  count  him 
a  foe,  oppose  him  in  God's  strength, 
and  attack  him  with  the  "  sword  of  the 
Spirit;"  Eph.  6  :  17;  then,  though  ye 
may  have  your  seasons  of  disaster  and 
depression,  the  j^romise  stands  sure  that 
ye  shall  finally  overcome;  and  it  shall 
be  proved  by  each  one  in  this  assembly, 
that,  though  the  serpent  may  bruise  the 
heel  of  the  seed  of  the  woman,  yet,  at 
last,  the  seed  of  the  woman  always 
bruises  the  head  of  the  serpent. 


SERMON  II. 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER  OF   THE    CHURCH. 


"A  minister  of  the  sanctuary,  and  of  the  true  tabernacle  which  the  Lord  pitched,  and  not  man. — Hebrews  vii :  15. 


The  discourse  of  the  Apostle  here 
turns  on  Jesus,  the  high  priest  of  our 
profession,  whose  superiority  to  Aaron 
and  his  descendants  he  had  estabhshed 
by  most  powerful  reasoning.  In  the 
verse  preceding  our  text  he  takes  a 
summary  of  the  results  of  his  argu- 
ment, deciding  that  we  have  such  an 
high  priest  as  became  us,  and  who  had 
passed  from  the  scene  of  earthly  minis- 
trations to  "the  throne  of  the  majesty 
in  the  heavens."  He  then,  in  the  words 
upon  which  we  are  to  meditate,  gives  a 
description  of  this  high  priest  as  at  pre- 
sent discharging  sacerdotal  functions. 
He  calls  him  "  a  minister  of  the  sanc- 
tuary, or  (according  to  the  marginal 
reading)  of  holy  things,  and  of  the  true 
tabernacle  which  the  Lord  2)itchod,  and 
not  man."  We  think  it  needful,  if  we 
would  enter  into  the  meaning  of  this 
passage,  that  we  confine  it  to  what 
Christ  is,  and  attempt  not  to  extend  it 
to  what  Christ  was.  If  you  examine  the 
verses  which  follow,  you  will  be  quite 
satisfied  that  St.  Paul  had  in  view  those 
portions  of  the  mediatorial  Avork  Avliich 
are  yet  being  executed,  and  not  those 
which  were  completed  upon  earth.  He 
expressly  declares  that  if  the  Redeem- 
er were  yet  resident  amongst  men,  he 
would  not  be  invested  with  the  priestly 
office — thus  intimating,  and  that  not  ob- 
scurely, that  the  priesthood  now  enact- 
ed in  heaven  was  tliat  on  which  he  wish- 
ed to  centre  allontion. 

We  know  indeed  that  parts  of  the 
orlestly  office,  most  stupendous  and 
mjst  important,  were  discharged  by 
Jesus  Avliilst  sojourning  on  earth.  Then 
it  was  that,  uniting  mysteriously  in  his 


person  the  offerer  and  the  victim,  he 
presented  himself,  a  whole  burnt  sacri- 
fice, to  God,  and  took  away,  by  his  one 
oblation,  the  sin  of  an  overburdened 
world.  But  if  you  attend  closely  to  the 
reasoning  of  St.  Paul,  you  will  observe 
that  he  considers  Christ's  oblation  of 
himself  as  a  preparation  for  the  priestly 
office,  rather  than  as  an  act  of  that  of- 
fice. He  argues,  in  the  thii-d  verse,  that 
since  "  every  high  ])ricst  is  ordained  to 
offer  gifts  and  sacrifices,"  there  was  a 
"necessity  that  this  man  have  some- 
what also  to  offer,"  And  l)y  then  speak- 
ing of  Christ's  having  obtained  "  a  more 
excellent  ministry,"  he  plainly  implies 
that  what  he  offers  as  high  priest  is  of- 
fered in  heaven,  and  nnist,  therefore, 
have  been  rather  ])rocured,  than  pre- 
sented, by  the  sacrifice  of  himself 

We  are  anxious  that  you  should  clear- 
ly perceive — as  we  are  sure  you  must 
from  the  study  of  the  context — that 
Christ  in  heaven,  and  not  Christ  on 
earth,  is  sketched  out  by  the  words 
which  we  are  now  to  examine.  The 
right  interpretation  of  the  description 
will  depend  greatly  on  our  ascertaining 
the  scene  of  ministrations.  And  we 
shall  not  hesitate,  throughout  the  whole 
of  our  discourse,  to  consider  the  apos- 
tle as  referring  to  wliat  Christ  vow  ])er- 
forms  on  our  behalf;  taking  no  otlier 
account  of  what  he  did  in  his  humilia- 
tion than  as  it  stands  associated  with 
what  he  does  in  his  exaltation. 

You  will  observe,  at  once,  that  the 
difficulty  of  our  text  lies  in  the  asser- 
tion, that  Christ  is  "  a  minister  of  the 
true  tahernacle,  which  the  Lord  pitched, 
and  not  man."     Our  main  business,  aa 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OP    THE    CHURCH. 


21 


expounders  of  Scripture,  is  with  the  de- 
termining what  this  "  true  tabernacle  " 
is.  For,  though  we  think  it  ascertain- 
ed that  heaven  is  tlie  scene  of  Christ's 
priestly  ministrations,  this  does  not  de- 
fine what  the  tabernacle  is  wherein  he 
ministers. 

Now  tliere  can  be  but  little  question, 
that,  in  another  passage  of  this  Epistle 
to  the  Hebrews,  the  humanity  of  the 
Son  of  God  is  described  as  "  a  taberna- 
cle, not  made  with  hands."  The  verse 
occurs  in  the  ninth  chapter,  in  which 
St.  Paul  shows  the  temporary  character 
of  -the  Jewish  tabernacle,  every  thing 
about  it  having  been  simply  "  a  figure 
for  the  time  then  present."  Advancing 
to  the  contrast  of  what  was  enduring 
with  what  was  transient,  he  declares 
that  Christ  had  come,  "an  high  priest 
of  good  things  to  come,  by  a  greater 
and  more  perfect  tabernacle,  not  made 
with  hands,  that  is  to  say,  not  of  this 
building."  Heb.  9  :  11.  It  scarcely  ad- 
mits of  debate  that  the  body  of  the  Re- 
deemer, produced  as  it  was  by  a  super- 
natural operation,  constituted  this  ta- 
bernacle in  which  he  came  down  to 
earth.  And  we  are  rightly  anxious  to 
uphold  this,  which  seems  the  legitimate 
interpretation,  because  heretics,  who 
would  bring  down  the  Savior  to  a  level 
with  ourselves,  find  the  gi'eatest  difli- 
culty  in  getting  rid  of  this  miraculous 
conception,  and  are  most  perplexed  by 
any  passage  which  speaks  of  Christ  as 
superhumanly  generated.  It  is  a  com- 
mon taunt  with  the  Socinian,  that  the 
apostles  seem  to  have  known  nothing 
of  this  miraculous  conception,  and  that 
a  truth  of  such  importance,  if  well  as- 
certained, would  not  have  been  omitted 
in  their  discussions  with  unbelievers. 
We  might,  if  it  consisted  with  our  sub- 
ject, advance  many  reasons  to  prove  it 
most  improbable,  that,  either  in  argu- 
ing with  gainsayers,  or  in  building  up 
believers,  the  first  preachers  of  Chris- 
tianity would  make  frequent  use  of  the 
mystery  of  Christ's  generation.  But, 
at  all  events,  we  contend  that  one  de- 
cisive mention  is  of  the  same  worth  as 
many,  and  that  a  single  instance  of 
apostolic  recognition  of  the  fact,  suffi- 
ces for  the  oveithrow  of  the  heretical 
objection.  And,  therefore,  we  would 
battle  strenuously  for  the  interpreta- 
tion of  the  passage  to  wliich  we  have 
refciTed,  defining  the  humanity  of  the 


Savior,  as  a  "  Tabernacle  not  made  with 
hands,  that  is  to  say,  not  of  this  build- 
ing." And  if,  without  any  overstrain- 
ing of  the  text,  it  should  appear  that 
"  the  true  tabernacle,"  whereof  Christ 
is  the  minister,  may  also  be  exjiounded 
of  his  spotless  humanity,  we  should 
gladly  adopt  the  interpretation  as  sus- 
taining us  in  our  contest  with  impugn- 
ers  of  his  divinity. 

There  is,  at  first  sight,  so  much  re- 
semblance betv.-een  the  passages,  that 
we  are  naturally  inclined  to  claim  for 
them  a  sameness  of  meaning.  In  the 
one,  the  tabernacle  is  described  as  that 
"  which  the  Lord  pitched  and  not  man;" 
in  the  other,  as  "  not  made  with  hands," 
that  is  to  say,  "  not  of  this  building." 
It  is  scarcely  possible  that  the  coinci- 
dence could  be  more  literal;  and  the 
inference  seems  obvious,  that,  the  latter 
ttibemacle  being  Christ's  humanity,  so 
also  must  be  the  foi-mer.  Yet  a  little 
reflection  will  suggest  that,  however 
correct  the  expression,  that  Christ's 
humanity  was  the  tabernacle  by,  or  in, 
which  he  came,  there  would  be  much 
of  harshness  in  the  figure,  that  this  hu- 
manity is  the  tabernacle  of  which  he  is 
the  minister.  Without  doubt,  it  is  in 
his  human  natui'e  that  the  Son  of  God 
officiates  above.  He  carried  up  into 
glory  the  vehicle  of  his  sufferings,  and 
made  it  partaker  of  his  triumphs.  And 
our  grand  comfort  in  the  priesthood  of 
Jesus  results  from  the  fact  that  he  min- 
isters as  a  man;  nothing  else  affording 
ground  of  assurance  that  "  we  have  not 
an  high  priest  which  cannot  be  touched 
with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities."  Heb. 
4 :  15.  But  whilst  certain,  and  re- 
joicing in  the  certainty,  that  our  inter- 
cessor pleads  in  the  humanity,  which, 
undefiled  by  either  actual  or  original 
sin,  qualified  him  to  receive  the  out- 
pourings of  wrath,  we  could  not,  with 
any  accuracy,  say  that  he  is  the  minis- 
ter of  this  humanity.  It  is  clear  that 
such  expression  must  define,  in  some 
way,  the  place  of  ministration.  And 
since  humanity  was  essential  to  the 
constitution  of  Christ's  person,  we  see 
not  how  it  could  be  the  temple  of  which 
he  was  appointed  the  minister.  At  least 
we  must  allow,  that,  in  interpreting  our 
text  of  the  human  nature  of  the  Son  of 
God,  we  should  lie  open  to  the  charge 
of  advocating  an  unnatural  meaning, 
and  of  being  so  bent  on  upholding  a 


22 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OF    THE    CHURCH. 


favorite  hj'^^otliesis,  as  not  to  be  over- 
scrupulous as  to  means  of  support. 

We  dismiss,  therefore,  as  untenable, 
the  opinion  which  our  wishes  would 
have  led  us  to  espouse,  and  must  seek 
elsewhere  than  in  the  humanity  o-f 
Christ,  for  "  the  true  tabernacle  which 
the  Lord  pitched,  and  not  man."  The 
most  correct  and  simple  idea  appears  to 
be,  that,  inasmuch  as  Chiist  is  the  high 
priest  of  all  who  believe  upon  his  name, 
and  inasmuch  as  believers  make  up  his 
church,  the  whole  company  of  the  faith- 
ilil  constitute  that  tabernacle  of  which 
he  is  lieie  asserted  the  minister.  If  we 
adopt  this  interpretation,  we  may  trace 
a  fitness  and  accuracy  of  exjjression 
which  can  scarcely  fail  to  assure  us  of 
its  justice.  The  Jewish  tabernacle,  un- 
questionably typical  of  the  christian 
church,  consisted  of  the  outer  part  and 
the  inner ;  the  one  open  to  the  minis- 
trations of  inferior  priests,  the  other  to 
those  of  the  high  priest  alone.  Thus 
the  church,  always  one  body,  whatever 
the  dispersion  of  its  members,  is  partly 
upon  earth  where  Christ's  ambassadors 
officiate,  partly  in  heaven  where  Christ 
himself  is  present.  St.  Paul,  referring 
to  this  church  as  a  household,  describes 
Christ  Jesus  as  him  "  of  whom  the 
whole  family  in  heaven  and  earth  is 
named ;  "  Eph.  3  :  15  ;  intimating  that 
it  was  no  interference  with  the  unity 
of  this  family,  that  some  of  its  mem- 
bers resided  above,  whilst  others  re- 
mained, as  warriors  and  sufferers,  be- 
low. So  that,  in  considering  Christ's 
church  as  the  tabernacle  with  its  holy 
place,  and  its  holy  of  holies — the  first 
on  earth,  the  second  in  heaven — we  ad- 
here most  rigidly  to  the  type,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  preserve  harmony  with 
other  representations  of  Scz-ipture. 

And  when  you  remember  that  Christ 
is  continually  described  as  dwelling  in 
his  people,  and  that  believers  are  repre- 
sented as  "  buildcd  together  for  an  habi- 
tation of  God  through  the  Spirit,"  Ejih. 
2 :  22,  there  will  seem  to  be  none  of 
that  objection  against  this  interpreta- 
tion which  we  felt  constrained  to  urge 
against  the  former.  If  it  be  common  to 
represent  believers,  whether  singly  or 
collectively,  as  the  temple  of  God ;  and 
if,  at  the  same  time,  Christ  Jesus,  as 
the  high  priest  of  our  profession,  pre- 
side at  the  altar,  and  hold  the  censor  of 
this  temple;  then  we  suppose  nothing 


far-fetched,  Ave  only  keep  np  the  image- 
ry of  Scripture,  when  we  take  the  church 
as  that  "  true  tabernacle  "  whereof  the 
Redeemer  is  the  minister. 

And  when  we  yet  further  call  to  mind 
that  to  God  alone  is  the  conversion  of 
man  ascribed  throughout  Scripture,  we 
see,  at  once,  the  truth  of  the  account 
given  of  this  tabernacle,  that  the  Lord 
pitched  it  and  not  man.  Man  reared 
the  Jewish  tabernacle,  and  man  builded 
the  Jewish  temple.  But  the  spiritual 
sanctuary,  of  which  these  were  but 
types  and  figures,  could  be  constructed 
by  no  human  architect.  A  finite  power 
is  inadequate  to  the  fashioning  and  col- 
lecting living  stones,  and  to  the  weav- 
ing the  drapery  of  self-denial  and  obe- 
dience. We  refer ,^  undividcdly,  to  Dei 
ty  the  constniction  of  this  true  taber- 
nacle, the  church.  Had  there  been  no 
mediatorial  interference,  the  spiritual 
temple  could  never  have  been  erected. 
In  the  work  and  person  of  Christ  were 
laid  the  foundation  of  this  temple. 
"  Behold,  saith  God,  I  lay  in  Zion  for  a 
foundation  a  stone,  a  tried  stone."  Isa. 
28 :  16.  And  on  the  stone  thus  laid 
there  would  have  arisen  no  superstruc- 
ture, had  not  the  finished  work  of  re- 
demption been  savingly  applied,  by 
God's  Spirit,  to  man's  conscience. 
Though  redeemed,  not  a  solitary  indi- 
vidual would  go  on  to  be  saved,  unless 
God  recreated  him  after  his  own  like- 
ness. So  that,  whatever  the  bi-eadth 
which  we  give  to  the  exjiression,  it 
must  hold  good  of  Christ's  church,  that 
the  Lord  pitched  it  and  not  man.  And 
it  is  not,  more  true  of  Christ's  humanity, 
mysteriously  and  supcmaturally  pro- 
duced, that  it  was  a  tabernacle  which 
Deity  reared,  than  of  the  company  oi 
believers,  born  again  of  the  Spirit  and 
renewed  after  God's  image,  that  they 
constitute  a  sanctuary  which  shows  a 
nobler  than  mortal  workmanship. 

Now,  upon  the  grounds  thus  bi'iefly 
adduced,  we  shall  consider,  th]X)ugh  the 
remainder  of  our  discoui'se,  that  "  the 
true  tabernacle,"  whereof  Christ  is  the 
ininister,  denotes  the  whole  church, 
whether  in  earth  or  heaven,  of  the  re- 
deemed, made  one  by  union,  through 
faith,  with  the  Redeemer.  But  before 
considex'ing,  at  greater  length,  the 
senses  in  which  Christ  is  the  minister 
of  this  tabernacle,  we  Avould  remark  on 
his  being  styled  "  INIinister,"  and  not 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OF    TIIF.    CHURCH. 


'High  Priest."  We  shall  finrl,  in  the 
sequel,  that  this  change  of  title  is  too 
important  to  be  overlooked,  and  that 
we  must  give  it  our  attention,  if  we 
would  bring  out  the  full  meaning  of  the 
passage.  The  word  translated  "  minis- 
ter," denotes  properly  any  public  ser- 
vant, whatever  the  duties  committed  to 
his  care.  His  office,  or  his  ministry,  is 
any  business  undertaken  for  the  sake 
of  the  commonwealth.  Hence,  in  the 
New  Testament,  the  word  rendered 
"  ministi-y  "  is  transfeiTcd  to  the  public 
office  of  the  Levites  and  Priests,  and 
afterwards  to  the  sacerdotal  office  of 
Christ.  We  keep  the  Greek  word  in  our 
own  lanfTuas^e,  but  confine  it  to  the 
business  of  the  sanctuary,  descnbmg 
as  "a  Liturgy"  a  formulary  of  public 
devotions.  When  Christ,  therefore,  is 
called  the  minister  of  the  tabernacle,  a 
broader  office  seems  assigned  him  than 
when  styled  the  High  Priest.  As  the 
High  Priest  of  his  church,  he  is  alone ; 
the  functions  of  the  office  being  such 
as  himself  only  can  discharge.  But  as 
the  minister  of  his  church,  he  is  indeed 
supreme,  but  not  alone ;  the  same  title 
being  given  to  his  ambassadors ;  as 
when  St.  Paul  describes  himself  as  the 
"  minister  of  Jesus  Christ  to  the  Gen- 
tiles, ministering  the  Gospel  of  God." 
Rom.  15 :  16.  You  will  perceive,  at 
once,  fi'om  this  statement,  that  our  text 
ought  not  to  be  expounded  as  though 
"Minister"  and  "High  Priest "  were 
identical  titles.  No  force  is  then  attach- 
ed to  a  word,  of  whose  application  to 
Christ  this  verse  is  the  solitary  instance. 
Indeed  we  are  persuaded  that  much  of 
the  power  and  beauty  of  the  passage 
lies  in  the  circumstance,  that  Christ  is 
called  "the  Minister  of  the  true  taber- 
nacle," and  not  the  Hio^h  Priest.  If  "  the 
true  tabernacle  "  be,  as  we  seem  to  have 
ascertained,  the  whole  church  of  the 
redeemed,  that  part  of  the  church  which 
is  already  in  glory  appears  to  have  no 
need  of  Christ  as  a  priest ;  and  we  may 
search  in  vain  for  the  senses  which  the 
passage  would  bear,  when  apjilied  to 
this  part.  But  if  Christ's  pricntly  func- 
tions, properly  so  called,  relate  not  to 
the  church  in  heaven,  it  is  altogether 
possible  that  his  ministerial  may;  so 
that  there  is,  perhaps,  a  propriety  in 
calling  him  the  minister  of  that  church, 
which  there  would  not  be  in  calling 
him  the  High  Priest. 


We  shall  proceed,  therefore,  to  ex- 
plain our  text  on  the  two  assumptions, 
for  each  of  which  we  have  shown  you 
a  reason.  We  assume,  in  the  first  place, 
that  "  the  true  tabernacle  "  is  the  col- 
lective church  of  the  redeemed,  whe- 
ther in  earth  or  heaven  :  in  the  second, 
that  the  office  of  minister,  though  in- 
cluding that  of  high  priest,  has  duties 
attached  to  it  which  belong  specially  to 
itself  These  points,  you  observe,  we 
assume,  or  take  for  granted,  through  the 
remainder  of  our  discourse ;  and  we 
wish  them,  therefore,  borne  in  mind,  as 
ascertained  truths. 

In  strict  conformity  with  these  as- 
sumptions, we  shall  now  speak  to  you, 
in  the  first  place,  of  Christ  as  ministei 
of  the  church  on  earth ;  in  the  second 
place,  of  Christ  as  minister  of  the  church 
in  heaven. 

Now  it  is  of  first-rate  importance  that 
we  consider  Christ  as  withdrawn  only 
from  the  eye  of  sense,  and,  therefore, 
present  as  truly,  after  a  spiritual  man- 
ner, with  his  church,  as  when,  in  the 
day  of  humiliation,  he  moved  visibly 
upon  earth.  The  lapse  of  time  has 
brought  no  interruption  of  his  parting 
promise  to  the  apostles,  "  Lo,  I  am  with 
you  alway,  even  unto  the  end  of  the 
world."  Matt.  28  :  20.  He  has  provid- 
ed, by  keeping  up  a  succession  of  men 
who  derive  authority,  in  unbroken  se- 
ries, from  the  first  teachers  of  the  faith, 
for  the  continued  preaching  of  his  word, 
and  administration  of  his  sacraments. 
And  thus  he  hath  been,  all  along,  the 
great  minister  of  his  church  :  delegat- 
ing, indeed,  power  to  inferior  ministers 
who  "  have  the  treasure  in  earthen  ves- 
sels ; "  2  Cor.  4  :  7 ;  but  superintending 
their  appointments  as  the  universal 
bishop,  and  evangelizing,  so  to  speak, 
his  vast  diocese,  through  their  instru- 
mentality. We  contend  that  you  have 
no  true  idea  of  a  church,  unless  you  thus 
recognize  in  its  ordinances,  not  merely 
the  institution  of  Christ,  but  his  actual 
and  energizing  presence.  You  have  wo 
right,  when  you  sit  downi  in  the  sanc- 
tuary, to  regard  the  individual  who  ad- 
dresses you  as  a  mei-e  public  s^jeaker, 
delivering  an  harangue  which  has  pre- 
cisely so  much  worth  as  it  may  draw 
from  its  logic  and  its  language.  He  is 
an  ambassador  from  the  great  Head  of 
the  church,  and  derives  an  authority 
from  this'  Head,  which  is  quite   iiide- 


S4 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OF    THE    CHURCH. 


pendent  of  his  own  worthiness.  If  Christ 
remain  always  the  minister  of  his 
church,  Christ  is  to  be  looked  at  through 
his  ministering  sen'ant,  whoever  shall 
visibly  officiate.  And  though  there  be 
a  gi-eat  deal  preached  in  which  you 
cannot  recognize  the  voice  of  the  Sa- 
vior; and  though  the  sacraments  be 
administered  by  hands  which  seem  im- 
pure enough  to  sully  their  sanctity ; 
yet  do  we  venture  to  assert,  that  no 
man,  who  keeps  Christ  steadfastly  in 
view  as  the  "  minister  of  the  true  ta- 
bernacle," will  ever  fail  to  derive  profit 
from  a  sermon,  and  strength  from  a 
communion.  The  grand  evil  is  that  men 
ordinarily  lose  the  chief  minister  in  the 
inferior,  and  determine  beforehand  that 
they  cannot  be  advantaged,  unless  the 
inferior  be  modelled  exactly  to  their 
own  pattern.  They  regard  the  speaker 
simply  as  a  man,  and  not  at  all  as  a 
messenger.  Yet  the  ordained  preacher 
is  a  messenger,  a  messenger  from  the 
God  of  the  whole  earth.  His  mental 
capacity  may  be  weak — that  is  nothing. 
His  speech  may  be  contemptible — that 
is  nothing.  His  knowledge  may  be  cir- 
cumscribed— we  say  not  that  is  no- 
thing. But  we  say  that,  whatever  the 
man's  qualifications,  he  should  rest  upon 
his  office.  And  we  hold  it  the  business 
of  a  congregation,  if  they  hope  to  find 
profit  in  the  public  duties  of  the  Sab- 
bath, to  cast  away  those  personal  con- 
siderations which  may  have  to  do  with 
the  officiating  individual,  and  to  fix 
steadfastly  their  thoughts  on  the  office 
itself.  Whoever  preaches,  a  congrega- 
tion would  be  profited,  if  they  sat  dowia 
in  the  temper  of  Cornelius  and  his 
fi-iends  :  "now  therefore  are  we  all  liere 
present  before  God,  to  hear  all  things 
that  are  commanded  thee  of  God." 
Acts,  10 :  3.3. 

But  if  a  sermon  differ  from  what  a 
Gospel  sermon  should  be,  men  will  de- 
termine that  Christ  could  have  had  no- 
thing to  do  with  its  delivery.  Now  this, 
we  assert,  is  nothing  less  than  the  de- 
posing Christ  from  the  ministry  assign- 
ed him  by  our  text.  We  are  far  enough 
from  declaring  that  the  chief  minister 
puts  the  false  words  into  the  mouth  of 
the  inferior.  But  we  are  certain,  as 
upon  a  truth  which  to  deny  is  to  assault 
the  foundations  of  Christianity,  that  the 
chief  minister  is  so  mindful  of  his  office 
that    every  man,  who  listens  in   faith, 


expecting  a  message  from  abcve,  shall 
be  addressed  through  the  mouth,  ay, 
even  through  the  mistakes  and  errors, 
of  the  inferior.  And  in  upholding  this 
truth,  a  truth  attested  by  the  experience 
of  numbers,  we  pimply  contend  for  the 
accuracy  of  that  description  of  Chi-ist 
which  is  under  review.  If,  wheresoever 
the  minister  is  himself  deficient  and  un- 
taught, so  that  his  sermons  exhibit  a 
wrong  system  of  doctrine,  you  will  not 
allow  that  Christ's  church  may  be  pro- 
fited by  the  ordinance  of  preaching; 
you  clearly  argue  that  the  Redeemer 
has  given  up  his  office,  and  that  he  can 
no  longer  be  styled  the  "  minister  of 
the  true  tabernacle."  There  is  no  mid- 
dle course  between  denying  that  Christ 
is  the  minister,  and  allowing  that,  what- 
ever the  faulty  statements  of  his  ordain- 
ed servant,  no  soul,  which  is  hearkening 
in  faith  for  a  word  of  counsel  or  com- 
fort, shall  find  the  ordinance  woithless 
and  be  sent  away  empty. 

And  from  this  we  obtain  our  first  il- 
lustration of  our  text.  We  behold  the 
true  followers  of  Christ  enabled  to  find 
food  in  pastures  which  seem  barren, 
and  water  where  the  fountains  are  dry. 
They  obtain  indeed  the  most  copious 
supplies — though,  perhaps,  even  this 
will  not  always  hold  good — when  the 
sermons  breathe  nothing  but  truth,  and 
the  sacraments  are  administered  by 
men  of  tried  piety  and  faith.  But  when 
every  thing  seems  against  them,  so  that, 
on  a  carnal  calculation,  you  would  sujd- 
pose  the  services  of  the  church  stripped 
of  all  efficacy,  then,  by  acting  faith  on 
the  head  of  the  ministry,  they  are  in- 
structed and  nourished;  though,  in  the 
main,  the  given  lesson  be  falsehood, 
and  the  proffered  sustenance  little  bet- 
ter than  poison.  And  if  Christ  be  thus 
aUvays  sending  messages  to  those  who 
listen  for  his  voice ;  if  he  so  take  upon 
himself  the  office  of  preacher  as  to  con- 
strain even  the  tongue  of  eiTorto  speak 
instruction  to  his  people;  and  if,  over 
and  above  this  conveyance  of  lessons 
by  the  most  unpromising  vehicle,  he  be 
dispensing  abundantly,  by  his  faithful 
ambassadors,  the  rich  nutriment  of 
sound  and  heavenly  doctrine — every 
sermon,  which  sj^eaks  truth  to  the  heart 
being  viitually  a  homily  of  Christ  deli- 
vered by  himself,  and  every  sacrament, 
which  transmits  grace,  an  ordinance  of 
Christ  superintended  by  himself^ — why. 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OF    THE    CHURCH. 


26 


y  fidelity  the  most  extraordinary  must 
ne  allowed  to  distinguisli  the  descrip- 
tion of  our  text;  and  Christ,  though 
removed  from  visible  ministration,  has 
yet  so  close  a  concernment  with  all  the 
business  of  the  sanctuary — uttering  the 
w^jrd,  sprinkling-  the  water,  and  break- 
ing the  bread,  to  all  the  members  of 
his  mystical  body — that  ho  must  em- 
phatically be  styled,  "  a  minister  of  holy 
things,  of  the  true  tabernacle  which 
the  Lord  pitched,  and  not  man." 

But  whilst  the  ofHce  of  minister  thus 
includes    duties    whose    scene  of  pei-- 
foniiancc  is  the  holy  place,  there  are 
others    which    can  only  be  discharged 
m  the  holy  of  holies.     These  appertain 
to  Christ  under  his  character  of  High 
Pl'iest ;  no  inferior  minister  being  privi- 
leged to  enter  "  within  the  veil."     You 
must,   we   think,  be    familiar,    through 
frequent  hearing,    with   the    offices    of 
Christ   as  our  Intercessor.     You  know 
that  though  he  suffered  but  once,  in  the 
last  ages  of  the  worlil,  yet,  ever  living 
to  plead  the  merits  of  his  sacrifice,  he 
gives    perpetuity   to  the   oblation,   and 
applies  to  the  washing  away  of  sin  that 
blood  which  is  as   exj)iatory   as  in  its 
first  warm  gushings.     In  no  respect  is 
it  more  sublimely  true  than  in  this,  that 
Jesus   Christ  is  "  the  same  yesterday, 
and  to-day,  and  forever."      The   high 
priests  of  Aaron's  line  entered,  year  by 
year,  into  the  holiest  of  all,  making  con- 
tinually a  new  atonement  "  for  them- 
selves and  for  the  eiTors  of  the  people." 
Heb.  9:  7.     But  he  who  was  constituted 
"  after  the  order  of  Melchisedec,"  king 
as  well  as  priest,  entered  in  once,  not 
"  by  the  blood  of  goats  and  calves,  but 
by  his   own  blood,"   Heb.   9  :  12,   and 
needed    never   to    return     and   ascend 
again  the   altar  of  sacrifice.     It  is  not 
that  sin  can  now  be  taken  away  by  any 
thing  short  of  shedding  of  blood.     But 
iTitercession      perpetuates     crucifixion. 
Christ,  as  high  priest  within  the  veil,  so 
immortalizes  Calvary  that,  though  "  he 
livcth  unto  God,"  he  dies  continually 
unto  sin.     And  thus,  "  if  any  man  sin, 
we  have,"  saitli  St.  John,  "  an  advocate 
with  the  Father."   1  John,  2 :   1,     But 
of  what  nature  is  his  advocacy  ]     If  you 
would   understand   it    you   must    take 
the  survey  of  his  atonement.     It  was  a 
mighty  exploit  which  the  INIcdiator  ef- 
fected in  the  days  of  humiliation.     He 
arose  in  the  strength  of  that  wondrous 


coalition  of  Deity  and  humanity  of 
which  his  person  was  the  subject;  and 
he  took  into  his  grasp  the  globe  over 
whose  provinces  Satan  expatiated  as  his 
rightful  territory ;  and,  by  one  vast  im- 
pulse, he  threw  it  back  into  the  galaxy 
of  Jehovah's  favor  ;  and  angel  and  arch- 
angel, cherubim  and  serapliim  sang  tho 
chorus  of  triumph  at  the  stupendous 
achievement. 

Now  it  is  of  this  achievement  that 
intei'cession    perjietuatos    the    results. 
We  wish  you  to  understand  thoroufh- 
ly  the  nature  of  Christ's  intercession. 
When  Rome  had  thrown  from  her  the 
wan-ior  who  had  led   his   countrymen 
to  victory,   and  galled  and  fretted  the 
proud  spirit  of  her  boldest  hero ;  he, 
driven  onward   by    the    demon   of  re- 
venge, gave  himself  as  a  leader  where 
he  had  before  been   a  conqueror,  and, 
taking  a  hostile   banner  into   his  pas- 
sionate   grasp,    headed    the    foes    who 
sought  to  sulajugate  the  land  of  his  na- 
tivity.    Ye  remember,  it  may  be,  how 
intercession  saved  the  city.  The  mother 
bowed  before  the  son ;   and  Coriolanus, 
vanquished  by  tears,  subdued  by  plaints, 
left    the    capitol    unscathed   by   battle. 
Hei-e  is  a  precise  instance  of  what  men 
count     successful     intercession.       But 
there  is  no  analogy  between  this  inter- 
cession and  the  intercession  of  Christ. 
Christ  intercedes  with  justice.     But  the 
intercession  is  the  throwing  down  his 
cross  on  the  crystal  floor  of  heaven,  and 
thus  proffering  his  atonement  to  satisfy 
the  demand.     Oh,  it  is  not  the  interces- 
sion of  burning  tears,  nor  of  half-choked 
utterance,  nor  of  thrilling  speech.      It 
is  the    intercession  of  a  broken  body, 
and  of  gushing  blood — of  death,  of  pas- 
sion, of  obedience.     It  is  the  interces- 
sion of  a  giant  leajjing  into  the  gap,  and 
filling  it  with  his  colossal  stature,  and 
covering,  as  with  a  rampart  of  flesh,  the 
defenceless   camp  of  the  outcasts.     So 
that,  not  by  the   touching  words    and 
gestures  of  supj^lication,  but  by  the  re- 
sistless deeds  and  victories  of  Calvary, 
the  Captain  of  our  salvation  intercedes : 
pleading,  not  as  a  petitioner  who  would 
move  compassion,  but  rather  as  a  con- 
queror who  would  claim  his  trophies. 
Hence  Christ  is  "  able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost,"   on  the    very    ground  that 
"  he  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession;" 
Heb.  7  :  25 ;   seemg  that  no  sin  can  bo 
committed  for  which  the   satisfaction, 


26 


CUniST    THE    MINISTER    OF    THE    CHURCH. 


made  upon  Calvary,  proffers  not  an  im- 
mediate and  thorougli  expiation.  And 
if,  a-5  the  intercessor,  or  advocate,  of  his 
people,  Chi'ist  Jesus  may  be  said  to 
stand  continually  at  the  altai'-side;  and 
if  he  be  momentarily  offering  up  the 
sacriiice  which  is  momentarily  required 
by  their  fast  recurring  guilt;  is  he  not 
most  truly  a  minister  of  the  tabernacle  ] 
If,  though  the  shadows  of  Jewish  wor- 
ship have  been  swept  away,  so  that, 
day  by  day,  and  year  by  year,  a  typical 
atonement  is  no  longer  to  be  made,  the 
constant  commission  of  sin  demand,  as 
it  must  demand,  the  constant  pouring 
out  of  blood ;  and  if,  standing  not  in- 
deed in  a  material  court,  and  off'ering 
not  the  legal  victims,  but,  nevertheless, 
officiating  in  the  presence  o^'  God,  "  a 
lamb  as  it  had  been  slain,"  Rev.  5 :  6, 
the  Redeemer  present  the  oblation  pre- 
scribed for  every  offence  and  every 
short-coming ;  is  not  the  whole  business 
of  the  tabernacle  which  man  pitched 
transacted  over  again,  and  that  too 
every  instant,  in  the  tabernacle  which 
God  pitched ;  and,  Christ,  being  the 
high  pi'iest  who  alone  presides  over  this 
expiatory  process,  how  otherwise  shall 
we  describe  him  than  as  the  "  minister 
of  the  sanctuary,  and  of  the  true  taber- 
nacle which  the  Lord  j)itched  and  not 
man]  " 

Bat  once  more.  We  may  regard  the 
prayers  and  praises  of  real  believers  as 
incense  burnt  in  the  true  tabernacle, 
and  rising  in  fragrant  clouds  towards 
heaven.  Yet  who  knows  not  that  this 
incense,  though  it  be  indeed  nothing 
less  than  the  breathings  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  is  so  defiled  by  the  corrupt 
channel  of  humanity  through  which  it 
passes,  that,  unless  purified  and  ethe- 
rializcd,  it  can  never  be  accepted  of 
God  ]  The  Holy  Ghost,  as  well  as  Christ 
Jesus,  is  said  to  make  intercession  for 
us.  But  these  intercessions  are  of  a 
widely  different  character.  The  Spirit 
pleads  not  for  us  as  Christ  pleads,  hold- 
ing up  a  cross,  and  pointing  to  wounds. 
The  intercession  of  the  Spirit  is  an  in- 
tercession made  within  ourselves,  and 
throu!^h  ourselves.  It  is  the  result  of 
the  Spirit's  casting  himself  into  our 
breasts,  and  there  praying  for  us  by  in- 
structing us  to  pray  for  ourselves.  Thus 
real  prayer  is  the  Spirit's  breath;  and 
what  else  in  real  praise]  Real  praise 
is  the  Spirit's  throwing  the  heart  into 


the  tongue ;  or  rather,  it  is  the  sound 
produced,  Avhon  the  Spirit  has  swept 
the  chords  of  the  soul,  and  there  is  a 
correspondent  vibration  of  the  lip.  But 
though  prayer  and  praise  be  thus,  em- 
phatically, the  breathings  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  they  ascend  not  up  in  their 
purity,  because  each  of  us  is  compelled 
to  exclaim  AAath  Isaiah,  "  Wo  is  me, 
because  I  am  a  man  of  unclean  lips." 
Isaiah,  6  :  5,  Even  the  voice  of  the  in- 
terceding Spirit,  w'hen  proceeding  from 
that  tongue  which  "  is  a  fire,  a  world 
of  iniquity,"  James  3 :  6,  penetrates 
not  the  holy  of  holies,  unless  the  Inter- 
cessor, who  is  at  God's  right  hand,  give 
it  wings  and  gain  it  access.  The  at- 
mosphere, so  to  speak,  which  is  round 
the  throne  of  the  Eternal  One,  must  be 
impervious  to  the  incense  burnt  in  the 
earthly  tabernacle,  unless  moist  with 
that  mysterious  dew  which  Avas  Avruno- 
by  anguish  from  the  Mediator. 

And  how  then  shall  we  better  repre 
sent  the  office  which  the  Intercessor  ex- 
ecutes than  by  saying,  that  he  holds  in 
his  hands  the  censer  of  his  own  merits, 
and,  gathering  into  it  the  prayers  and 
praises  of  his  church,  renders  them  a 
sweet  savor  acceptable  to  the  Father  1 
Perfumed  with  the  odor  of  Christ's  pro- 
pitiation, the  incense  mounts;  and  God, 
in  his  condescension,  accepts  the  oflfer- 
ing  and  breathes  benediction  in  return. 
And  what  then,  we  again  ask,  is  Christ 
Jesus  but  the  "  minister  of  the  true 
tabernacle  ]  "  If  it  be  the  Intercessor 
who  carries  our  prayers  and  jiraises 
within  the  veil,  and,  laying  them  on  the 
glowing  fii'C  of  his  righteousness,  causes 
a  spicy  cloud  to  ascend  and  cover  the 
mercy-seat ;  does  not  this  Intercessor 
officiate  in  the  true  tabernacle  as  did 
the  high  priest  of  old  in  the  figurative ; 
and  have  we  not  fresh  attestation  to  the 
truth  of  the  description,  that  Jesus  is 
"  a  minister  of  holy  things,  of  the  true 
tabernacle  which  the  Lord  pitched,  and 
not  maul " 

We  think  that  the  several  particulars 
thus  adduced  constitute  a  strong  wit- 
ness, so  far  as  the  church  on  earth  is 
concerned,  to  the  accuracy  of  the  defi- 
nition presented  by  our  text.  We  have 
shown  you  that  to  all  true  believers 
Christ  Jesus  is  literally  the  minister  of 
the  sanctuary,  preaching  through  the 
preacher,  and  administering,  through 
his  hands,  the  sacraments.    And  though 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OP    THE    CHURCH. 


27 


we  may  be  thought  to  hdve  heroin 
somewhat  tronjched  on  the  office  of  tlie 
Spirit,  we  have,  in  no  degree,  trans- 
gressed the  statements  ot"  Scripture. 
In  the  Book  of  Revelation,  it  is  Christ 
who  sends,  through  John,  the  sermons 
to  the  churches,  who  liohls  in  his  right 
hand  the  seven  stars  which  represent 
the  ministers  of  these  churches,  and 
who  walketh  in  the  midst  of  the  seven 
goklen  candlesticks  which  represent 
the  churches  themselves.  And  though, 
unquestionably,  it  is  the  Spirit  which 
carries  home  the  word,  the  delivery  of 
that  word  must  be  referred  to  the  Sa- 
vior. Thus,  in  a  somewhat  obscure 
passage  of  St.  Peter,  Christ  is  said  to 
have  gone  by  the  Spirit,  and  "  preached 
unto  the  spirits  in  prison."  1  Pet.  3  :  19. 
And  certainly  Avhat  he  did  to  the  diso- 
bedient, he  may  justly  be  affirmed  to 
do  to  the  faithful.  We  have  further 
shown  you,  that,  as  the  high  priest  of 
his  people,  Christ  offers  up  continual 
sacrifice,  and  burns  sweet  incense.  And 
when  you  combine  these  particulars, 
you  have  virtually  before  you  the  Sa- 
vior in  the  pulpit  of  the  sanctuary,  the 
Savior  at  the  altar,  the  Savior  with  the 
censer ;  and  thus,  seeing  that  he  offici- 
ates in  the  whole  business  of  the  di- 
vmely-pitched  tabernacle,  will  you  not 
confess  him  the  minister  of  that  tabei'- 
nacle  1 

But,  understanding  by  the  "  true  ta- 
bernacle "  the  collective  church  of  the 
redeemed,  Avhether  in  heaven  or  on 
earth,  we  have  yet  to  show  you  that 
Christ  is  the  minister  of  the  former  por- 
tion as  well  as  of  the  latter.  You  see, 
at  once,  that  the  "  true  tabernacle  "  can- 
not be  what  we  have  all  along  supposed, 
unless  there  be  ministerial  offices  dis- 
charged by  Christ  towards  the  saints  in 
glory.  And  we  think  that  the  over- 
looking the  title  of  minister,  or  rather 
the  identifying  it  with  that  of  high 
pi-iest,  has  caused  the  unsatisfactoin- 
ness  of  many  commentaries  on  the  pas- 
sage. As  High  Priest  of  the  spix'itual 
temple,  Christ  can  scai-cely  be  said  to 
execute  any  functions  in  which  those 
who  have  entered  into  heaven  are  per- 
sonally interested.  They  are  beyond 
the  power  of  sin,  and  therefore  need  not 
sacrifice.  The  music  of  their  praises 
is  rolled  from  celestial  harps,  and  re- 
quires not  to  be  melodized.  But,  when 
we  take  Christ  as  the  minister,  we  may 


observe  respects  in  which,  without  ad- 
venturing on  rash  speculation,  he  may 
be  said  to  discharge  the  same  offices 
to  the  church  above  and  the  church 
below.  We  shall  not  presume  to  speak 
of  what  goes  on  in  the  holy  of  holies, 
with  that  confidence  which  is  altog(;ther 
unwarrantable,  when  discourse  turns 
on  transactions  of  which  the  outer 
court  is  the  scene.  But  finding  Christ 
described  as  the  "  minister  of  the  true 
tabernacle,"  and  considering  this  taber- 
nacle as  divided  into  sections,  we  only 
strive  to  be  wise  up  to  what  is  written, 
when,  observing  senses  in  which  the 
name  must  be  confined  to  the  lower 
section,  we  search  for  others  in  which 
it  may  be  extended  to  the  upper. 

And  if  Christ  minister  to  the  church 
below  by  discharging  the  office  oi 
preacher  or  instructor,  who  shall  doubt 
that  he  may  also  thus  minister  to  the 
church  above  ]  We  have  already  re- 
feiTed  to  a  passage  in  St.  Peter  which 
speaks  of  Christ  as  having  "  preached 
to  the  spirits."  We  enter  not  into  the 
controversies  on  this  passage.  But  it 
gives,  we  think,  something  of  founda- 
tion to  the  opinion,  that  whilst  his  body 
was  in  the  sepulchre,  Christ  preached 
to  spirits  in  the  separate  state,  opening 
up  to  them,  probably,  those  mysteries 
of  redemption  into  which  even  angels, 
before-time,  had  vainly  striven  to  look. 
The  kings,  and  the  prophets,  and  the 
rio-hteous  men,  who  had  desired  to  see 
the  things  which  apostles  saw,  and  had 
not  seen  them,  and  to  hear  the  things 
which  they  heard,  and  had  not  heard 
them — unto  these,  it  may  be,  Christ 
brought  a  glorious  roll  of  intelligence ; 
and  we  can  imagine  him  standing  in 
the  midst  of  a  multitude  which  no  man 
can  number,  who  had  all  gone  down  to 
the  chambers  of  death  with  but  indis- 
tinct and  far-off  glimpses  of  the  pro- 
mised Messiah,  and  explaining  to  the 
eager  assembly  the  beauty,  and  the 
stability,  of  that  deliverance  which  he 
had  just  wrought  out  through  obe- 
dience and  blood-shedding.  And,  O, 
there  must  have  then  gone  forth  a  tide 
of  the  very  loftiest  gladness  through 
the  listening  crowds  of  the  separate 
state ;  and  then,  perhaps,  for  the  first 
time,  admiration  and  ecstasy  summon- 
ing out  the  music,  was  heard  that 
anthem,  whose  rich  peal  rolls  down 
the  coming   eternity,    "  Worthy,   wor- 


28 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OF    THE    CHDRCH. 


thy,  worthy  is  the  Lamb."  Then,  it 
may  be,  lor  tlie  first  time,  did  Adam 
embrace  all '  the  magnificence  of  the 
promise,  that  the  seed  of  the  woman 
should  bruise  the  serpent's  head ;  and 
Abraham  understood  how  the  well-be- 
ing of  the  human  popnhition  depended 
upon  one  that  should  spring  from  his 
own  loins ;  and  David  ascertain  all  the 
meaning  of  mysterious  strains,  wiiich, 
as  prefiguring  Messiah,  he  had  swept 
from  the  harp-strings.  Then,  too,  the 
long  train  of  Aaron's  line,  who  had 
stood  at  the  altar  and  slain  the  victims, 
and  burnt  the  incense,  almost  Aveighed 
down  by  a  ritual,  the  imjjort  of  whose 
ceremonies  was  but  indistinctly  made 
known — then,  it  maybe,  were  they  sud- 
denly and  sublimely  taught  the  power 
of  every  figure,  and  the  expressiveness 
of  every  rite ;  whilst  the  noble  com- 
pany of  prophets,  holy  men  who  "  spake 
as  they  were  moved  by  the  Holy 
Ghost,"  2  Pet.  1:  21,  but  who,  rapt 
into  the  future,  uttered  much  which 
only  the  future  could  develope — these, 
as  though  starting  from  the  sleep  of 
ages,  sprang  into  the  centre  of  that 
gorgeous  panorama  of  truth  which  they 
had  been  coinmissioned  to  outline,  but 
over  whose  spreadings  there  had  j-ested 
the  cloud  and  the  mist ;  and  Isaiah 
thrilled  at  the  glories  of  his  own  say- 
ing, "  unto  us  a  child  is  born,  unto  us  a 
son  is  given,"  Isaiah,  9  :  G ;  and  Hosea 
grasped  all  the  mightiness  of  the  de- 
claration, which  he  had  poured  forth 
whilst  denouncing  the  apostacies  of  Sa- 
maria, "  O  Death,  I  will  be  thy  plagues  ; 
O  Grave,  I  will  be  thy  destruction." 
Hosea,  13  :   14. 

We  know  not  why  it  may  not  thus 
be  considered  that  the  day  of  Christ's 
entrance  into  the  separate  state  was, 
like  the  Pentecostal  day  to  the  church 
upon  earth,  a  day  of  the  rolling  off  of 
obscurity  from  the  plan  of  redemption, 
and  of  the  showing  how  "  glory,  honor, 
and  immortality,"  Horn.  2 :  7,  were 
made  accessible  to  the  remotest  of  the 
world's  families;  a  day  on  which  a 
thousand  types  gave  place  to  realities, 
and  a  thousand  predictions  leaped  into 
fulfilment :  a  day,  therefore,  on  which 
there  circulated  through  the  enormous 
gatherings  of  Adam  and  his  elect  pos- 
terity, already  ushered  into  rest,  a  glad- 
ness which  had  never  yet  been  reached 
in  all  the  depth  of  their  beatifical  re- 


pose. And  neither,  then,  can  we  dis' 
cover  cause  why  Christ  may  not  be 
thought  to  have  filled  the  oflice  of 
preacher  to  the  buried  tribes  of  the 
righteous,  and  thus  to  have  assumed 
that  character  which  he  has  never  since 
laid  aside,  that  of  "  a  minister  .i'  Mie 
sanctuary,  and  of  the  true  tabernacle 
which  the  Lord  pitched,  and  not  man." 
We  know  but  little  of  the  condition 
of  separate  spirits  :  but  we  know,  as- 
suredly, from  the  witness  of  St.  Paul, 
that  they  are  "  present  with  the  Lord." 
2  Cor.  5  :  8.  Whatever  the  dwelling- 
place  which  they  tenant,  whilst  await- 
ing the  magnificent  things  of  a  resur- 
rection, the  glorified  humanity  of  the 
Savior  is  amongst  them,  and  they  are 
privileged  to  hold  immediate  commun- 
ings with  their  Head.  Thus  the  preach- 
er, the  mighty  expounder  of  tlie  will 
and  purjjoses  of  the  Father,  moves  to 
and  fro  through  the  achniring  throng ; 
and  the  souls  of  those  who  have  loved 
and  served  the  Redeemer  upon  earth, 
are  no  sooner  delivered  from  the  flesh, 
than  they  stand  in  the  presence  of  that 
illustrious  Being  who  spake  as  "  never 
man  spake."  Is  he  silent?  Was  it 
only  in  the  day  of  humiliation,  and  in  the 
hour  of  trouble,  that  he  had  instruction 
to  impart,  and  lessons  to  convey,  and 
deep  and  glorious  secrets  to  0]:)cn  up  to 
the  faithful  1  He  who  described  himself 
as  actually  "  straitened  "  whilst  on  earth, 
who  had  many  things  to  say  Avhich  his 
hearers  were  not  able  to  bear — think 
ye  that,  in  a  nobler  scene,  and  with 
spirits  before  him,  all  whose  faculties 
have  been  wondcrously  enlarged  and 
sublimed,  he  delivers  not  the  homilies 
of  a  mightier  teaching,  and  leads  not 
on  his  people  to  loftier  heights  of  know- 
ledge, and  broader  views  of  truth  1 
Oh,  we  cannot  but  believe  that  the 
glorified  Redeemer  converses — though 
thought  cannot  scan  such  mysterious 
and  majestic  converse — with  those 
blessed  beings  who  "  have  washed  their 
robes  and  made  them  white, "  Rev. 
7:  14,  in  his  blood;  that  he  unfolds  to 
them  the  wonders  of  redemption ;  and 
teaches  them  the  magnificence  of  God; 
and  spreads  out  to  their  contemjila- 
tion  the  freight  of  splendor  wherewith 
the  second  Advent  is  charged;  and 
carries  them  to  Pisgah  tops,  whence 
they  look  down  ui)on  the  landscapes 
burning  with  the  purple  and  the   gold 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OP    THE    CHURCH. 


29 


across  which  they  shall  pass  when  at- 
tired in  the  livery  of  the  resurrection — 
thus  making  the  jilace  of  separate  spirits 
a  church,  himself  the  preacher,  immor- 
tality his  text.  Yea,  when  we  think  on 
the  countless  points  of  difference  and 
dehatc  between  men  who,  in  equal  sin- 
cerity, love  the  Loi-d  Jesus  ;  when  we 
observe  how  those,  who  alike  place  all 
their  hopes  on  the  Mediator,  hold  op- 
posite opinions  on  many  doctrines; 
and  when  we  yet  further  remember, 
that  a  lono^  life-time  of  study  and  prayer 
leaves  half  the  Bible  unexplored ;  there 
is  so  much  to  be  unravelled,  so  much 
to  be  elucidated,  so  much  to  be  learned, 
that  we  can  suppose  the  Redeemer, 
day  by  day — if  days  there  be  where 
the  sun  never  sets — imparting  fresh  in- 
telligence to  the  enraptured  assembly, 
and  causing  new  gladness  to  go  the 
round  of  the  crowded  ranks,  as  he  ex- 
pounds a  difficulty,  and  justifies  the 
ways  of  God  to  man. 

And  whether  or  no  we  be  overbold 
in  even  hinting  at  the  possible  subject- 
matter  of  discourse,  we  only  vindicate 
the  title  which  our  text  gives  to  the 
Savior,  when  we  conclude  that  as  the 
God-man  passes  through  "  the  general 
assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born," 
Heb.  12 :  23,  he  wrajjs  not  himself  up 
in  silence  and  loneliness ;  but  that 
speaking,  as  he  spake  with  the  dis- 
ciples journeying  to  Emmaus,  he  opens 
wonders,  and  causes  eveiy  heart  to 
burn  and  bound.  So  that,  removed  as 
is  the  church  within  the  veil  from  the 
ken  of  our  observation,  and  needing 
not,  as  it  cannot  need,  those  deeds  of 
an  intercessor,  which  engage  chiefly, 
in  our  own  case,  the  ministry  of  Christ, 
we  can  yet  be  confident  that  in  the 
Holy  of  Holies  there  goes  onward  a 
grand  work  of  instruction ;  and  thus 
ascertaining  that,  as  a  preacher  to  his 
people  Christ's  office  is  not  limited  to 
those  who  sojourn  in  the  flesh,  we  can 
understand  by  the  "  true  tabernacle  " 
the  church  above  conjointly  with  the 
church  below,  and  yet  pronounce,  un- 
resen'edly,  of  Jesus,  that  he  is  a  "  a 
minister  of  the  true  tabernacle  which 
the  Lord  pitched  and  not  man." 

Such,  brethren,  is  our  account  of  the 
title  of  our  text,  whether  respect  be 
had  to  believers  in  glory,  or  to  believ- 
ers still  warring  upon  earth.  If  we  have 
dealt  con-ectly  with  the  passage,  it  fur- 


nishes one  great  practical  admonition, 
already  incidentally  mentioned,  which 
it  will  be  well  that  you  keep  diligently 
in  inind.  When  you  attend  the  services 
of  the  sanctuary,  remember  who  is  the 
minister  of  that  sanctuary.  You  run  to 
hear  this  man  preach,  and  then  that 
man.  But  who  amongst  you — let  me 
speak  it  with  reverence — comes  in  the 
humble,  prayerful,  faithful  hope  of 
hearing  Christ  preach  ]  Yet  Christ  is 
the  "  minister  of  the  true  tabernacle." 
Christ  preaches,  through  his  servants, 
to  those  who  forget  the  instrument, 
and  use  meekly  the  ordinance. 

It  is  a  melancholy  and  dispiriting 
thing  to  observe  how  little  effect  seems 
wrought  by  preaching.  "We  take  the 
case  of  a  crowded  sanctuary,  where  the 
business  of  listening  goes  on  with  a 
more  than  common  abstraction.  We 
may  have  before  us  the  rich  exhibition 
of  an  apparently  riveted  attention  ;  and 
the  breathless  stillness  of  a  multitude 
shall  give  witness  how_  they  are  hang- 
ing on  the  lips  of  the  speaker.  And  if 
he  grow  impassioned,  and  pour  out  his 
oratory  on  things  terribly  sublime,  the 
countenances  of  himdreds  shall  betray 
a  convulsion  of  spirit — and  if  he  speak 
glowingly  of  what  is  tender  and  beau- 
tiful, the  sunniness  in ,  many  eyes  shall 
testify  to  their  feeling  an  emotion  of 
delightsomeness.  But  we  are  not  to  be 
carried  away  by  the  charms  of  this 
spectacle.  We  know  too  thoroughly, 
that,  with  the  closing  of  the  sermon, 
may  come  the  breaking  of  the  spell; 
and  that  it  is  of  all  things  the  most  pos- 
sible, that,  if  we  pursued  to  their  homes 
these  earnest  listeners,  we  should  find 
no  proof  that  impression  had  been  made 
by  the  enunciated  truths,  and,  perhaps, 
no  more  influential  remembrance  of  the 
discourse,  by  whose  power  they  had 
been  borne  completely  away,  than  if 
they  'had  sat  fascinated  by  the  loveli- 
ness of  a  melody,  or  awe-struck  at  the 
thunderings  of  an  avalanche. 

And  the  main  reason  of  all  this  wo 
take  to  be  that  men  forget  the  ordi- 
nance, -and  look  only  to  the  instrument. 
If  such  be  the  case,  it  is  no  marvel 
that  they  derive  nothing  from  preach- 
ing but  a  little  animal  excitement,  and 
a  little  head-knowledge.  If  you  listen 
not  for  the  voice  of  Cln-ist,  who  shall 
wonder  that  you  hear  only  the  voice  of 
man,   and  so  go  away  to  your   homes 


IMPOSSIBILITY    OF    CREATURE-MERIT 


wilh  your  souls  unfed,  simply  equipped 
for  sitting  in  judgment  upon  the  ser- 
mon as  you  would  upon  a  ti-agedy,  and 
ready  to  begin  the  review  with  some 
caustic  remark,  which  shall  prove,  that, 
whatever  else  you  have  learned,  you 
have  not  learned  charity  ? 

Alas  !  the  times  on  which  we  have 
fallen  are  so  evil,  that  there  is  almost  a 
total  losing-sight  of  the  ordinance  of  a 
visible  church.  Preaching  is  valued, 
not  as  Christ's  mode  of  ministering  to 
his  people,  and  therefore  always  to  be 
prized;  but  as  an  oratorical  display, 
whose  worth,  like  that  of  a  pleading  at 
the  bar,  is  to  be  judged  by  the  skill  of 
the  argument  and  the  power  of  the 
language. 

We  can  but  point  out  to  you  the  er- 
ror. It  must  remain  with  yourselves  to 
strive  to  correct  it.  "  Cease  ye  from 
man."  Isaiah  2  :  22.  When  and  where 
is  this  injunction  so  needful  as  in  a 
church,  and  on  a  Sabbath  1  Eveiy  thing 


is  made  to  depend  on  the  clergynian 
And  men  will  tell  you  that  he  is  very 
good,  but  very  dull ;  that  his  doctrine 
is  sound,  but  his  delivery  heavy ;  that 
he  is  inanimate,  or  ungraceful,  or  flow- 
cry,  or  prosaic.  But  as  to  hearing  that 
he  is  Christ's  servant,  an  instrument  in 
his  Master's  hands — who  meets  \\dth 
this  fi-om  the  Dan  to  the  Eecrsneba  of 
our  Israel  ]  "  Cease  ye  from  man."  If 
ye  hope  to  be  profited  by  preaching  ;  if 
ye  would  become — and  this  is  a  noble 
thing — independent  of  the  preacher  ; 
sti'ive  ye  diligently  to  press  home  upon 
your  minds,  as  ye  draw  nigh  to  the 
sanctuary,  that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  "  mi- 
nister of  the  true  tabernacle."  Thus 
shall  ye  be  always  secure  of  a  lesson, 
and  so  bfe  trained  gradually  for  that 
inner  court  of  the  temple  where,  sitting 
down  with  patriarchs,  and  apostles,  and 
saints,  at  the  feet  of  the  great  Preacher 
himself,  you  shall  loam,  and  enjoy,  im- 
mortality. 


SERMON  III. 


THE   IMPOSSIBILITY   OF   CREATURE-MERIT. 


"  For  all  things  come  of  thee,  and  of  thine  own  have  we  given  thee." — 1  Chronicles,  xxi.x,  14. 


Full  of  years,  of  riches,  nnd  of  ho- 
nors, David,  the  man  after  God's  own 
heart,  is  almost  ready  to  be  gathered  to 
his  fitliers,  and  to  exchange  his  earthly 
diadem  for  one  radiant  with  immortali- 
ty. Yet,  ere  he  pass  into  his  Maker's 
temple  of  the  skies,  he  would  provide 
large  store  of  material  for  that  ten-es- 
trial  sanctuary,  which,  though  it  must 
not  be  reared  by  himself,  he  knew  would 
be  builded  by  Solomon.  The  gold  and 
the  silver,  the  onyx  stones,  and  the 
stones  of  divers  colors,  and  the  mar- 
bles,  these,   and   other    less    precious 


commodities,  the  monarch  of  Israel 
had  heaped  together  for  the  work ;  and 
now  he  summons  the  princes  of  the 
congregation  to  receive  in  trust  the 
legacy.  ^ 

Yet  it  was  comparatively  but  little 
to  bequeath  the  rich  and  costly  ])ro- 
duce  of  the  earth;  an4  David  might 
have  felt  that  a  devoted  and  zc;vlous 
spirit  outweighed  vastly  the  metal  and 
the  jewel.  He  indeed  could  leave  be- 
hind him  an  abundnnce  of  all  that  was 
needful  for  the  building  in  Jerusalem  a 
house  for  the  ark  of  the  covenant ;  but 


IMPOSSIBILITY    OF    CREATURE-MERIT. 


31 


where  was  the  piety,  where  the  holi- 
ness of  enterprise  which  should  call  in- 
to being  the  fabric  of  his  wishes  ] 

He  will  not  then  lie  down  in  his 
grave  without  breathing  over  the  rare 
and  gli-ttcring  heaps  a  stirring,  yea,  al- 
most thrilling  appeal ;  demanding  who, 
amid  the  assembled  multitude,  would 
emulate  his  example,  and  consecrate 
his  service,  that  day,  unto  the  Lord  1 
It  augured  well  for  the  kingdom  of  Ju- 
dea  that  its  great  men,  and  its  liobles, 
answered  to  the  call,  as  a  band  of  de- 
voted warriors  to  the  trumpet-peal  of 
loyalty.  He  who  had  provided  rich 
garniture  for  the  temple's  walls,  and 
glorious  hymns  to  echo  through  its 
courts,  had  cause  to  lift  up  his  voice 
with  gladness,  and  bless  the  Lord,  when 
the  chief  of  the  fathers,  and  the  heads 
of  the  tribes,  offered  themselves  will- 
ingly, and  swelled,  by  the  gift  of  their 
own  possessions,  the  treasures  already 
devoted  to  the  sanctuary.  He  had  now 
good  earnest  that  the  cherished  pro- 
mise was  on  the  eve  of  fulfilment;  and 
that  though,  having  himself  shed  blood, 
and  been  a  man  of  war  from  his  youth, 
it  was  not  fitting  that  he  should  rear 
a  dwelling-place  for  Deity,  one  who 
sprang  from  his  own  loins  should  be 
honored  as  the  builder  of  a  structure, 
into  which  Jehovah  would  descend 
with  the  cloudy  majesty  of  a  mystic 
Shekinah. 

But,  whilst  glad  of  heart  and  rejoic- 
ing, David  felt  deeply  how  unworthy 
he  was  of  the  mercies  which  he  had 
received,  and  how  marvellous  was  that 
favor  of  Deity  of  which  himself,  and 
his  people,  had  been  objects.  The  na- 
tion had  come  forward,  and,  with  a 
willing  heart,  dedicated  its  ti'easures  to 
Jehovah.  But  the  king,  whilst  exult- 
ing at  such  evidence  of  national  piety, 
knew  well  that  God  alone  had  imparted 
the  disposition  to  the  people,  and  that, 
therefore,  God  must  be  thanked  for 
what  was  offered  to  God.  "  Now,  there- 
fore," saith  he,  "  our  God,  we  thank 
thee,  and  praise  thy  glorious  name. 
But  who  am  I,  and  what  is  my  people, 
that  we  should  be  able  to  offer  so  will- 
ingly after  this  sort  1 "  Two  things, 
you  observe,  excited  his  gratitude  and 
surprise  :  first,  that  the  people  and  him- 
self should  have  so  much  to  offer;  se- 
condly, that  over  and  above  the  abili- 
ty, there  should  be  the  willingness,  to 


make  so  cosfly  an  oblation.  He  felt, 
that  God  had  dealt  wondrously  with 
Israel  in  emptying  into  its  lap  the 
riches  of  the  earth,  and  thus  rendering 
it  possible  that  piles  of  the  pz^^ecious 
and  the  beautiful  might  be  given,  at 
his  summons,  for  the  Avork  of  the  tem- 
ple. But  then  he  also  felt  that  the  land 
might  have  groaned  beneath  the  accu- 
mulations of  wealth;  but  that,  had  not 
the  hearts  of  the  people  been  made 
willing  by  God,  no  fraction  of  the  enor- 
mous mass  would  have  been  yielded 
for  the  building  which  he  longed  to 
see  reared.  God  had  given  both  the 
substance,  and  the  willingness  to  con- 
secrate it  to  his  service.  And  when 
David  felt  the  privilege  of  a  temple  be- 
ing allowed  to  rise  in  Jerusalem,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  remembered  how  en- 
tirely it  was  of  God  that  there  was 
either  the  ability,  or  the  readiness,  to 
build  the  structure ;  he,  might  well 
burst  into  the  exclamation,  "  Who  am 
T,  and  what  is  my  people,  that  we 
should  be  able  to  offer  so  willingly 
after  this  sort  1  "  and  then  add,  in  the 
words  of  our  text,  "  For  all  things 
come  of  thee,  and  of  thine  own  have 
we  given  thee." 

You  may  thus  perceive  the  connec- 
tion between  the  words  on  which  we 
are  to  meditate,  and  those  which  im- 
mediately precede.  David,  as  we  have 
shown  you,  expressed  surprise  on  two 
accounts,  each  of  which  is  indicated 
by  our  text.  He  marvels  that  God 
should  have  blessed  the  people  with 
such  abundance,  and  explains  why  he 
ascribes  the  abundance  to  God,  by  say- 
ino-,  "  All  thing^s  come  of  thee."  But 
he  is  also  amazed  at  the  condescension 
of  God  in  giving  willingness,  as  well 
as  ability,  to  the  people.  God  needed, 
not  to  receive  at  the  creature's  hands, 
and,  therefore,  it  was  pure  love  which 
moved  him  thus  to  influence  the  heart. 
Nothing  could  be  presented  to  him 
which  was  not  already  his  ;  and  might 
not  then  David  be  justly  overpowered 
by  the  gi-aciousness  of  God,  seeing 
that,  however  noble  the  offering,  "  of 
t/une  own,  have  we  given  thee,"  must 
be  the  confession  by  which  it  Avas  at- 
tended ] 

There  will  be  no  necessity,  after 
having  thus  stated  the  occasion  on 
which  the  text  was  delivered,  and  the 
meaning  which  it  originally  bore,  thi.t 


32 


IMPOSSIBFLITr    OF    CREATURE-MERIT. 


we  refer  ag-ain  to  the  preparations  of 
David  for  building  the  temple.  It  is 
evident  that  the  words  are  of  most 
general  applicability,  and  that  we  need 
not  take  account  of  the  circumstances 
of  the  individual  who  first  uttered  them, 
when  we  would  interpret  their  mean- 
ing-, or  extract  their  lessons.  We  shall, 
therefore,  proceed  to  consider  the  pas- 
sage as  detached  from 'the  context,  and 
as  thus  presenting  us  with  truths  which 
concern  equally  every  age  and  every 
individual. 

We  regard  the  words  before  us  as 
resisting,  with  singular  power,  the  no- 
tion that  a  creature  can  merit.  AV^e 
know  not  tl>e  point  in  theology  which 
requires  to  be  oftener  stated,  or  more 
carefully  es-tablished,  than  the  impossi- 
bility that  a  creature  should  merit  at 
the  hands  of  the  Creator.  It  is  not  to 
be  controverted  that  men  are  disposed 
to  entertain  the  opinion  that  creature- 
merit  is  possible,  so  that  they  have  it 
in  their  power  to  effect  something  de- 
serving recompense  from  God.  They 
will  not  indeed  always  set  the  point  of 
merit  very  high.  They  will  rather  imi- 
tate the  Pharisee  in  the  parable,  who 
evidently  thought  himself  meritorious 
for  stopping  a  degree  or  two  short  of 
being  scandalous.  "  God,  I  thank  thee 
that  I  am  not  as  other  men  are,  extortion- 
ers, unjust,  adulterers."  Luke,  18:  11. 
But  whether  it  be  at  a  low  point  or  a 
lofty,  that  merit  is  supposed  to  com- 
mence, every  man  must  own  as  his  natu- 
ral sentiment  that  it  commences  at  some 
point;  and  each  one  of  us,  if  he  have 
ever  probed  his  own  heart,  will  confess 
himself  prone  to  the  persuasion,  that 
the  creature  can  lay  the  Creator  under 
obligation.  We  find  ourselves  able  to 
deserve  well  of  one  another,  to  confer 
favors,  and  to  contract  debts.  And 
when  we  cany  up  our  thoughts  from 
the  finite  to  the  infinite,  we  fjuite  for- 
get the  total  change  in  the  relation- 
ship ;  and  avc  perceive  not  that  the  po- 
sition in  which  we  stand  to  our  Maker 
excludes  those  desei'vings  which,  xm- 
qucstionably,  have  place  between  man 
and  man.  Men  simply  view  God  as  the 
mightiest  of  sovereigns,  and,  knowino- 
it  possible  to  do  a  favor  to  their  king, 
conclude  it  possible  to  do  a  favor  to  their 
God. 

Now  it  must  be  of  fij-st-rate  impor- 
tance that  we  ascertain  the  truth  or  the 


falsehood  of  such  a  conclusion.  The 
method  in  which  we  may  look  to  be 
saved  will  greatly  vary,  according  as 
we  admit,  or  deny,  the  possibility  ot 
merit.  It  is  quite  clear  that  our  moral 
position,  if  we  cannot  merit,  must  be 
vastly  different  fiom  what  it  is,  if  we 
can  merit,  and  that,  consequently,  the 
apparatus  of  deliverance  cannot,  in  the 
two  cases,  be  the  same.  So  that  it  is 
no  point  of  curious  and  metaphysical 
speculation,  whether  merit  be  consist- 
ent with  creatureship.  On  the  contrary, 
there  cannot  be  a  question  whose  de- 
cision involves  inferences  of  greater 
practical  moment.  If  I  can  merit,  sal- 
vation may  be  partly  of  debt,  and  I 
may  earn  it  as  wages.  If  I  cannot  me- 
rit, salvation  must  be  wholly  of  grace, 
and  I  must  receive  it  as  a  gift.  And 
thus  every  dispute  upon  justification 
by  faitl\,  every  debate  in  reference  to 
works  as  a  procuring  cause  of  accept- 
ance, would  virtually  be  settled  by  the 
settlement  of  the  impossibility  of  crea- 
ture-merit. Questions  such  as  these 
are  best  deteraiined  by  reference  to 
first  principles.  And  if  you  had  once 
demonstrated  that  merit  is  inconsist- 
ent with  creatureship,  you  would  have 
equally  demonstrated  that  neither  faith, 
nor  works,  can  procure  man's  salvation 
in  the  way  of  desert ;  but  that,  what- 
ever the  instramentality  through  which 
justification  is  effected,  justification  it- 
self must  be  wholly  of  grace. 

Now  we  think,  that,  in  examining 
the  words  of  our  text,  we  shall  find 
powerful  reasons  from  which  to  con- 
clude the  impossibility  of  merit.  The 
text  may  be  said  to  state  a  fact,  and 
then  an  inference  from  that  fact.  The 
fact  is,  that  "  All  things  come  of  God :  " 
the  inference  is,  that  a  creature  can 
give  God  nothing  which  is  not  already 
his  own.  We  will  examine  successively 
the  fact,  and  the  inference ;  and  then 
apply  the  passage  to  the  doctrine  which 
we  desire  to  establish. 

We  are,  in  the  first  place,  to  speak 
on  the  stated  fact,  that  all  things  come 
of  God. 

Npw  there  is  nothing  more  wonder- 
ful in  respect  to  Deity  than  that  uni- 
versality of  operation  which  is  always 
ascribed  to  him.  One  grand  distinction 
between  the  infinite  being,  and  all  finite 
beings,  appears  to  us  to  be,  that  the 
one  can  be  working  a  thousand  things* 


IMPOSSIBILITY  OF  CREATURE-MERIT. 


33 


at  once,  whilst  the  energies  of  the 
others  must  confine  themselves  to  one 
work  at  one  time.  If  you  figure  to  your- 
selves the  highest  of  created  intelligen- 
ces, you  endow  him  with  a  might  which 
leaves  immeasurably  behind  the  noblest 
human  powers  ;  but  you  never  think  of 
investing  him  with  the  ability  of  act- 
ing, at  the  same  time,  on  this  globe, 
and  on  one  of  those  far-off"  planets 
which  we  see  travelling  around  us.  You 
make,  in  short,  the  strength  of  an  arch- 
angel by  multiplying  the  strength  of  a 
man.  But,  whatever  the  degree  up  to 
which  you  think  it  needful  to  multiply, 
you  never  add  to  the  strength  the  in- 
comprehensible property,  that  it  may 
be  exerting  itself,  at  the  same  moment, 
in  places  between  which  there  is  an 
untravelled  separation,  and  causing  its 
mightiness  to  be  simultaneously  felt  in 
the  various  districts  of  a  crowded  im- 
mensity. If  you  even  multiplied  finite 
power  till  you  supposed  it  to  become 
infinite,  you  would  only  keep  adding 
to  its  intenseness,  and  would  in  no  de- 
gree attribute  to  it  ubiquity.  And,  how- 
ever yoTi  might  suppose  this  multiplied 
power  capable  of  wonders  which  seem 
to  demand  the  interpositions  of  Deity, 
you  would  still  consider,  that  these 
wonders  must  be  performed  in  succes- 
sion ;  and  you  would  never  imagine  of 
the  power,  that,  in  the  depths  of  every 
ocean,  and  on  the  surface  of  every  star, 
it  could,  at  the  same  instant,  be  putting 
forth  its  magnificent  workings. 

And  thus  it  is  that  the  Omnipresence 
of  Godhead  is  that  property,  which, 
more  than  any  other,  outruns  our  con- 
ceptions. In  multiplying  power,  so  to 
speak,  you  never  multiply  presence. 
But  when  you  had  even  wrought  up 
the  idea  of  a  power  which  can  create, 
and  annihilate,  you  would  give  it  one 
thing  to  create  at  once,  and  one  thing 
to  annihilate  at  once ;  and  you  would 
never  suppose  it  busy  equally,  in  all  its 
glory  and  all  its  resistlessness,  in  every 
department  of  an  universe,  and  with  ev- 
ery fraction  of  infinity. 

So  that  the  topmost  marvel  is  that 
"  All  things  come  of  God."  The  un- 
approachable mystery — it  is  not  that 
God  should  be  in  the  midst  of  this 
sanctuary,  and  that  he  should  be  minis- 
tering life  to  those  gathered  within 
its  walla — it  is,  that  he  should  be  no 
more  here  than  he  is  elsewhere,   and 


no  more  elsewhere  than  he  is  here ;  and 
that  with  as  ac-tunl  a  concentration  of 
energy  as  though  he  had  no  other  oc- 
cupation, he  should  be  supplying  our 
fast-recumng  necessities  ;  and  yet  that, 
with  such  a  diffusion  of  presence  as 
causes  him  to  be  equally  every  where, 
he  should  superintend  each  district  of 
creation,  and  give  out  vitality  to  each 
order  of  beings.  "  All  things  come  of 
God."  It  is  not  merely  that  all  things 
come  of  God  by  original  production ; 
all  things  come  of  God  by  aftcr-sus- 
tainment.  And  whether  you  consider 
the  visible  world,  or  the  invisible ;  whe- 
ther you  extend  your  thoughts  over  the 
unmeasured  fields  of  materialism,  or 
send  them  to  the  survey  of  those  count- 
less ranks  of  intelligence  which  stretch 
upwards  between  yourselves  and  your 
Maker — you  are  bound  to  the  belief 
that  every  spot  in  the  unlimited  space, 
and  every  member  of  the  teeming  as- 
semblage, recjuires  and  receives  the 
operations  of  Deity ;  and  that  if,  for  a 
lonely  instant,  those  operations  were 
suspended,  worlds  would  jostle  and  make 
a  new  chaos,  while  a  disastrous  bank- 
ruptcy of  life  would  succeed  to  the  pre- 
sent exuberance  of  animation. 

So  that  it  is  as  true  of  the  angelic 
hosts,  moving  in  their  power  and  their 
purity,  as  of  ourselves,  fallen  from  im- 
mortality, and  beggared,  and  weaken- 
ed, that  "  all  things  come  of  God." 
There  can  be  but  one  independent  be- 
ing, and  on  that  one  all  others  must 
depend.  An  independent  being  must, 
necessai'ily,  be  self-existent,  possess- 
ing in  himself  all  the  well-springs  of 
life,  and  all  the  sources  of  happiness. 
A  being  whose  existence  is  derived 
must,  as  necessarily,  be  dependent  on 
the  first  author  for  the  after-continu- 
ance. A  being  who  could  do  without 
God  would  himself  be  God ;  and  there 
needs  no  argument  to  prove  to  you, 
that,  whatever  else  God  could  make, 
he  could  not  make  himself  And  you 
must  take  it,  therefore,  as  a  truth  which 
admits  not  limitation,  that  "  all  things 
come  of  God;  "  so  that  there. is  not  the 
order  of  creatures,  whether  material  or 
immaterial,  which  stands  not,  every 
moment,  indebted  for  every  thing  to 
God,  or  which,  however  rare  its  en- 
dowments, and  however  majestic  its 
possessions,  could  dispense,  for  one 
instant,  with  communications  from  the 
5 


34 


IMPOSSIBILITY  OF  CREATURE-MERIT. 


fulness  of  the  Almighty,  or  he  thrown 
on  its  own  energies,  without  heing 
thrown  lo  <larkncss  and  tlcstruction. 

And  though  it  suit  not  our  jiurpose 
that  we  should  dwell  long  on  the  fact 
that  "  all  things  come  of  God,"  yet, 
associated  as  this  fact  is  with  whatso- 
ever is  most  wonderful  in  Deity,  we 
may  call  upon  you  to  admire  it,  before 
we  proceed  to  the  inference  which  it 
furnishes.  It  is  an  august  and  an  over- 
powering thought,  that  our  God  should 
be  alike  present  on  every  star,  and  in 
each  of  its  minutest  recesses  ;  and  that, 
though  there  be  a  vast  employment 
of  the  mechanism  of  second  causes, 
there  is  not  wrought  a  beneficial  effect 
throughout  the  boundless  expansions 
of  creation,  whose  actual  authorship 
can  be  referred  to  any  thing  short  of 
the  first  great  cause.  It  is  a  noble  con- 
tem])]ation,  though  one  by  which  our 
faculties  are  presently  confounded,  that 
of  the  whole  universe  hanging  upon 
Deity  ;  archangel,  and  angel,  and  man, 
and  beast,  and  worm,  receiving  momen- 
tary supplies  from  the  same  inexhausti- 
ble fountain  ;  and  every  tenant  of  every 
system  appealing  to  the  common  pa- 
rent to  preserve  it,  each  instant,  from 
extinction.  Oh,  we  take  it  for  a  cold, 
and  a  withered  heart,  which  is  con- 
scious of  no  unusual  and  overcoming 
emotions,  when  there  is  told  forth  the 
amazing  fact,  that  the  God,  who  heark- 
ens to  the  prayer  of  the  meanest  and 
most  despised,  and  who  is  verily  pre- 
sent, in  all  his  omnipotence,  when  in- 
voked by  the  very  poorest  of  the  chil- 
dren of  calamity,  shoiild  be  actuating, 
at  the  same  moment,  all  the  machinery 
of  the  universe,  and  inspiring  all  its 
animation  ;  guiding  the  rollings  of  every 
planet,  and  the  leap  of  every  cataract, 
and  dealing  out  existence  to  every  thing 
that  breatheth.  We  say  again  that  it  is 
this  property  of  God,  the  property  of 
acting  every  where  at  once,  so  that  all 
things  come  of  him,  which  removes 
him  furthest  from  companionship  Avith 
the  finite,  and  makes  him  inaccessible 
to  all  the  soarings  of  the  creature.  It 
is  the  j)r()perty  to  which  we  have  no- 
thing analogous  amongst  ourselves, 
even  on  the  most  reduced  and  minia- 
ture scale.  A  creature  must  be  local. 
He  must  cease  to  act  in  one  place  be- 
fore he  can  begin  to  act  in  another. 
But  the  Creator  knows  nothing  whether 


of  distance  df  time.  Inhabiting  su- 
blimely both  infinity  and  eternity,  there 
cannot  be  the  spot  in  space,  nor  the  in- 
stant in  duration,  when  and  where  he 
is  not  equally  present.  And  seeing  that 
he  thus  occupies  the  universe,  not  aa 
being  diffused  over  it,  but  as  existing-, 
in  all  his  integrity,  in  its  every  division 
and  subdivision  ;  and,  seeing,  moreover, 
that  he  waits  not  the  passage  of  cen- 
turies, but  is  at  "  the  end  from  the  be- 
ginning;" Isaiah,  4G  :  10;  it  can  be  li- 
terally true,  without  exaggeration,  and 
without  figure,  that  "  all  things  come 
of  him  ;  "  whatsoever  there  is  of  good 
being  wrought  by  him,  whatsoever  of 
evil,  permitted ;  the  present  being  of 
his  performance,  and  the  future  of  his 
appointment. 

And  it  is  worth  observing,  that,  if  it 
must  be  the  confession  of  every  order 
of  being  that  "all  tilings,"  whatsoever 
they  possess,  "come  of  God,"  such 
confession  must  be  binding,  witli  a  dou- 
ble force,  upon  man.  It  must  be  true 
of  us,  on  the  principles  which  prove  it 
true  generally  of  creatures,  that  we 
have  nothing  which  we  have  not  re- 
ceived, and  for  which,  therefore,  we 
stand  not  indebted  to  Deity.  But  then, 
by  our  rebellion  and  apostacy,  there 
was  a  forfeiture,  we  say  not  of  rights — 
for  we  deny  that  the  creatui'e  can  have 
right  to  any  thing  from  the  Creator — 
but  of  those  privileges  which  God,  in 
his  mercy,  conferred  on  the  work  of 
his  hands.  As  a  benevolent  being,  we 
may  be  sure  that  God  would  not  call 
creatures  into  existence,  and  then  dis- 
miss them  from  his  care  and  his  guar- 
dianship. And  though  we  pretend  not 
to  say  that  creatureship  gave  a  positive 
claim  on  the  Creator,  it  rendered  it  a 
thing  on  which  we  might  venture  to 
calculate,  that,  so  long  as  the  creature 
obeyed,  the  Creator  would  minister  to 
his  every  necessity.  But,  as  soon  as 
there  was  a  failure  in  obedience,  it  was 
no  longer  to  be  expected  that  creature- 
ship  would  insure  blessings.  The  in- 
stant that  a  race  of  beings  declined  from 
loyalty  to  God,  there  was  noihiug  to 
be  looked  for  but  the  suspension  of  all 
the  outgoings  of  the  Creator's  benefi- 
cence ;  seeing  that  the  law,  entailed  by 
creatureship,  liaving  been  violated,  the 
privileq^s  to  which  it  admitted  were  oi 
necessity  forfeited. 

And  this  was   the  position   in  which 


IMPOSSIBILITY  OP  CREATURE-MERIT. 


3d 


tne  human  race  stood,  when,  by  the 
first  transgression,  God's  service  was 
renounced.  Whatever  the  fairness  with 
which  Adam  might  have  calculated, 
that,  if  he  continued  obedient,  his  every 
want  would  be  supplied,  he  could  not 
reckon,  when  he  had  broken  the  com- 
mand, on  a  breath  of  air,  or  a  ray  of  sun- 
shine, or  a  particle  of  food.  It  was  no 
longer,  if  we  may  use  the  expression, 
natural,  that  he  should  be  upheld  in  be- 
ing and  sufficiency.  On  the  contrary, 
the  probability  must  have  been  that  he 
would  bo  immediately  annihilated,  or 
left  to  consume  away  piece-meal.  And 
since,  in  spite  of  this  forfeiture,  we  are 
still  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  the  means 
and  mercies  of  existence,  we  must  be 
bound  even  far  more  than  angels  who 
never  transgressed,  to  acknowledge 
that  "  all  things  come  of  God."  Angels 
receive  all  things  by  the  charter  of  crea- 
tion. But  man  tore  up  that  charter ; 
and  we  should  therefore  receive  no- 
thing, had  there  not  been  given  us  a 
new  charter,  even  the  charter  of  re- 
demption. So  that  God  hath  made  a 
fresh  and  special  arrangement  on  be- 
half of  the  fallen.  And  now,  whatso- 
ever we  possess,  whether  it  have  to  do 
with  our  intellectual  part,  or  our  ani- 
mal, with  the  present  life  or  the  future, 
is  delivered  into  our  hands  stamped,  so 
to  speak,  with  the  sign  of  the  cross  ; 
and  we  learn  that  "all  things  come  of 
God,"  because  all  things,  even  the  most 
common  and  insignificant,  flow  through 
the  channel  of  a  superhuman  mediation, 
and  are  sprinkled  with  the  blood  to 
which  Divinity  gave  preciousness. 

But  we  may  consider  that  we  have 
sufficiently  examined  the  fact  asserted 
in  our  text,  and  may  pass  on,  secondly, 
to  the  inference  which  it  furnishes. 

This  inference  is — and  you  can  re- 
quire no  argument  to  prove  to  you  its 
justice — that  we  can  give  God  nothing 
which  is  not  already  his.  "All  things 
come  of  thee,  and  of  tltine  own  have 
we  given  thee."  You  must  perceive  at 
once,  that,  if  it  be  true  of  the  creatures 
of  every  rank  of  intelligence,  that  they 
possess  nothing  which  they  have  not 
received  from  God,  they  can  offer  no- 
thing which  is  purely  and  strictly  their 
ovni.  But  it  is  necessary  that  we  ex- 
amine, with  something  of  attention,  in- 
to the  nature  of  God's  gifts,  in  order  to 
remove  an  objection  which  rnight  be 


brought  against  our  statements.  If  one 
creature  give  a  thing  to  another,  he 
ceases  to  have  property  in  the  gift,  and 
cannot  again  claim  it  as  his  own.  If  a 
man  make  me  a  present,  he  virtually 
cedes  all  title  to  the  thing  given ;  and 
if  I  were  afterwards  to  restore  him  the 
whole,  or  a  part,  it  would  be  of  mine 
own,  and  not  of  his  own,  that  I  gave 
him.  But  if — for  even  amongst  our- 
selves we  may  find  a  case  somewhat 
analogous  to  that  of  the  Creator  in  his 
dealings  with  creatures — if  I  were  re- 
duced to  utter  poverty,  with  no  means 
whatsoever  of  earning  a  livelihood  ;  and 
if  a  generous  individual  came  forward, 
and  gave  me  capital,  and  set  me  up  in 
trade  ;  and  if,  in  mine  after-prosperity, 
I  should  bring  my  benefactor  some  of- 
fering expressive  of  gratitude ;  it  is 
clear  that  I  might,  with  the  strictest 
truth,  say,  "  of  thine  own  do  I  give 
thee."  I  should  be  indebted  to  my  be- 
nefactor for  what  I  was  able  to  give  ; 
and,  of  course,  that  for  which  I  stood 
indebted  to  him  might  be  declared  to 
be  his.  But  even  this  case  comes  far 
short  of  that  of  the  Creator  and  the 
creature.  The  creature  belongs  to  God: 
and  God,  therefore,  cannot  give  to  the 
creature  in  that  sense  in  which  one 
creature  may  give  to  another.  All  that 
the  creature  is,  and  all  that  the  crea- 
ture has,  appertains  to  God  ;  so  that,  in 
giving,  God  alienates  not  his  property 
in  that  which  he  bestows.  If  he  own, 
so  to  speak,  the  angel,  or  the  man,  then 
whatever  the  angel  or  the  man  possesses 
belongs  still  to  his  proprietor ;  and 
though  that  proprietor  may  give  things 
to  be  used,  they  must  continue  Ids  own, 
in  themselves  and  in  their  produce.  Ir 
indeed  it  were  possible  that  a  creature 
could  become  the  property  of  any  other 
than  the  Creator,  it  might  be  also  pos- 
sible that  a  creature  could  possess  what 
was  not  the  Creator's.  But  as  long  as 
it  is  certain  that  no  creature  can  have 
right  to  call  himself  his  own — the  fact 
of  creation  making  him  God's  by  an 
invulnerable  title — it  ought  to  be  re- 
ceived as  a  self-evident  truth,  that  no 
creature  can  possess  a  good  thing  which 
is  hif  own.  All  which  he  receives  from 
the  b.mnty  of  God  still  belongs  to  God. 
So  that  if  whatsoever  is  brilliant  and 
holy  in  the  universe  combined  to  fashion 
an  offering ;  if  the  depths  of  the  mines 
were  fathomed  for  the  richest  of  mo 


36 


IMPOSSIBILITY  OF  CREATURE-MERIT. 


tals,  and  the  starry  pavilions  swept  of 
their  jewellery,  and  the  ranks  of  the 
loftiest  intelligence  laid  under  contribu- 
tion ;  there  could  be  poured  no  gift  into 
the  coffers  of  heaven  ;  but  the  splendid 
oblation,  thus  brought  to  the  Almighty, 
would  be  his  before,  as  much  as-  after 
presentation. 

And  this  truth  it  is  by  which  we  look 
to  <lemonstrate  the  impossibility  of 
cre;\turc-merit.  We  will  begin  with  the 
highest  order  of  created  intelligence, 
and  we  will  ask  you  whether  the  angel, 
or  the  archangel,  can  merit  of  God  \ 
If  one  being  merit  of  another,  it  must 
perform  some  action  which  it  was  not 
obliged  to  perform,  and  by  which  that 
other  is  advantaged.  Nothing  else,  as 
you  must  perceive  if  you  will  be  at  the 
pains  of  thinking,  can  constitute  merit. 
I  do  another  a  favoi',  and,  therefore,  de- 
serve at  his  hands,  if  I  do  something  by 
which  he  is  profited,  and  which  I  was 
not  obliged,  by  mere  duty,  to  do.  If 
either  of  these  conditions  fail,  merit 
must  vanish.  If  the  other  party  gain 
nothing,  he  can  owe  me  nothing ;  and 
if  I  have  only  done  what  duty  prescri- 
bed, he  had  a  right  to  the  action,  and 
cannot,  therefore,  have  been  laid  under 
obligation. 

Now  if  this  be  a  just  description  of 
merit,  can  the  angel  or  the  archangel 
deserve  any  thing  of  God?  We  waive 
the  consideration,  that,  if  there  be  merit, 
God  must  be  advantaged — though  there 
lies  in  it  the  material  of  an  overpower- 
ing proof  that  the  notion  of  creature- 
merit  is  little  short  of  blasphemous. 
Who  can  think  of  being  profitable  unto 
God,  when  he  remembers  the  independ- 
ence of  Deity,  and  calls  to  mind  that 
there  was  a  time  when  the  Creator  liad 
not  surrounded  himself  with  worlds  and 
tribes,  and  when,  occupied  with  glori- 
ous and  ineflaljle  communings,  the  Fa- 
ther, Son,  and  Spirit,  reaped  in  from  the 
deej)  solitudes  of  immensity  as  full  a 
revenue  of  happiness  as  they  now  ga- 
ther from  its  thickly-peopled  circles  1 
No  creature  can  do  without  God.  But 
God  could  have  done  without  creatures. 
They  were  not  necessary  to  God. 
There  was  no  void  in  his  blessed. less 
which  requii-ed  the  contributions  of 
cieatures  before  it  could  be  filled  up. 
And  it  must  be  absurd  to  talk  of  ad- 
vantaging God,  when  we  know  that 
his    magnificence    and    his    happiness 


would  have  been  infinite,  had  he  chosen 
to  dwell  forever  in  his  sublime  loneli- 
ness, and  suffered  not  the  stillness  of 
the  unmeasured  expanse,  full  only  of 
himself,  to  be  broken  by  the  hum  of  a 
swarming  pojiulation. 

But  we  Avaive  this  consideration.  We 
fasten  you  to  the  fact,  that  a  merito- 
rious action  must  be  an  action  of  which 
duty  demands  not  the  performance.  If 
the  angel  have  spare  time  which  be- 
longs not  to  God ;  if  the  angel  have 
material  which  belongs  not  to  God  ;  let 
the  angel  bestow  that  time  upon  that 
material,  and  let  him  bring  the  result 
as  an  oblation  to  his  Maker ;  and  there 
shall  be  merit  in  that  oblation  ;  and  he 
shall  gain  a  recompense  on  the  plea  of 
desert  :  according  to  the  rule  which  an 
aj)ostle  hath  laid  down,  "  who  hath  first 
given  to  the  Lord,  and  it  shall  be  re- 
compensed unto  him  again  1  "  Romans, 
11  :  35.  If  the  angel  have  powers  which 
he  is  under  no  obligation  of  confecra- 
ting  to  God ;  if  they  are  mightier  than 
suffice  for  duty;  and  if  there  be,  there- 
fore, an  overplus  which  he  is  at  liberty 
to  bestow  on  some  work  of  superero- 
gation ;  let  him  employ  these  uncalled- 
for  energies  in  extra  and  unprescribcul 
service,  and,  doubtless,  his  claim  shall 
not  be  UTihecded  when  he  gives  in  the 
additional  and  voluntary  performance, 
liut  if  the  angel  have  time  which  be- 
longs not  to  God ;  and  if  the  angel 
have  power  which  ho  is  not  required 
to  dedicate  to  God ;  there  is  an  end  of 
the  proved  truth,  "  of  thine  own  have 
we  given  thee."  In  determining  the 
question,  whether  a  creatui'e  can  mei-it, 
we  have  nothing  to  do,  abstractedly, 
with  the  magnificence  of  the  energies 
of  that  creature,  nor  with  the  stupen- 
dousness  of  the  achievments  which  he 
is  capable  of  effecting.  There  is  not 
of  necessity,  any  greater  reason  why 
an  angel  should  merit,  because  able  to 
move  a  world,  than  why  a  worm  should 
merit,  because  just  able  to  crawl  upon 
its  surface.  The  whole  question  of  the 
possibility  of  merit  is  a  question  of  the 
jiossibility  of  outrunning  duty.  Unless 
duty  be  exceeded,  every  creature  must 
receive,  as  applicable  to  himself,  the 
words  of  the  Savior,  "  When  ye  shall 
have  done  all  those  things  which  are 
commanded  you,  say,  we  arc  un])rofita- 
blc  servants,  (and,  if  unprofitable,  cer- 
tainly not  meritorious ;)  we  have  done 


IMPOSSIBILITY  OF  CREATURE-MERIT. 


37 


that  which  was  our  duty  to  do."  Luke, 
17  :  10. 

Aad  if  duty  thus  exclude  merit,  the 
condition  of  the  angel,  as  much  as  that 
of  the  worm,  excludes  merit.  If  all 
which  the  angel  has  belong  to  the  Cre- 
tor;  if  that  noble  intelligence  which 
elevates  him  far  above  our  own  level 
be  the  property  of  God ;  if  that  awful 
might,  which  could  strew  the  ground 
with  the  thousands  of  the  Assyrian 
host,  be  communicated  by  Deity ;  if 
that  velocity  of  flight,  which  fits  him 
to  go  on  embassages  to  the  very  out- 
skirts of  creation,  be  impaitcd  by  his 
Maker — there  must  be  a  demand,  an  in- 
alienable demand,  upon  the  angel,  for 
every  instant  of  his  time,  and  for  every 
fraction  of  his  strength,  and  for  every 
waving  of  his  wing.  Duty,  the  duty 
which  is  imposed  upon  him  by  the  fact 
of  his  creatureship,  can  draw  no  fron- 
tier-line excluding  from  a  required  con- 
secration to  God  the  minutest  item  of 
those  multiform  possessions,  which  ren- 
der him  a  splendid  and  masterful  thing, 
the  nearest  approach  to  Divinity  in  all 
that  interminable  series  of  productions 
which  bounded  into  being  at  the  call 
of  the  Omnipotent. 

So  that  the  angel,  just  as  much  as 
the  meanest  of  creatures,  must  say  of 
all  that  he  can  bring  to  God,  of  thhie 
own  do  I  give  thee.  It  is,  indeed,  a 
costlier  offering  than  the  human  eye 
hath  seen,  or  the  human  thought  ima- 
gined. There  is  a  fers^or  of  affection, 
and  a  grasp  of  understanding,  and  a 
Btrenuousness  of  labor,  ay,  and  an  in- 
tenseness  of  self-abasement  and  humi- 
lity, which  enter  not  into  the  best  and 
purest  of  the  oblations  which  are  laid 
by  ourselves  at  the  feet  of  our  Maker. 
But  as  there  is  not  one  jot  less  than 
duty  prescribes,  neither  is  there  one 
jot  more.  God  gave  all  which  is 
brought  to  him.  His  the  glowing  love. 
His  the  soaring  intellect.  His  the  aw- 
ful vigor.  His  the  beautiful  lowliness. 
And  shall  he  be  laid  under  obligation 
by  his  own  ]  Shall  he  be  bound  to 
make  return,  because  he  hath  received 
of  his  own  1  Oh,  we  may  discuss,  and 
debate,  upon  earth,  the  possibility,  or 
the  impossibility,  of  creature-merit. 
But  we  may  be  sure,  that,  if  the  ques- 
tion could  be  propounded  to  angels,  the 
thought  of  merit  would  be  rejected  as 
treason.  Standing  in  the  immediate  pre- 


sence of  their  glorious  Creator ;  jjrivi- 
leged  to  gaze,  so  far  as  it  is  possible 
for  creatures  to  gaze  without  being 
withered,  on  his  unveiled  lustres ;  and 
fraught  with  the  consciousness,  that, 
however  wonderful  their  j)Owers  and 
capacities,  they  possess  notliing  which 
God  did  not  give,  and  which  God  might 
not  instantly  withdraw — angels  must 
feel  that  the  attempt  to  deserve  of  tho 
Almighty  would  be  tantamount  to  an 
attempt  to  dethrone  the  Almighty,  and 
that  the  supposing  that  more  might  be 
done  than  is  demanded  by  duty,  would 
be  the  supposing  an  eternity  exhausted, 
and  time  left  for  some  praiseworthy 
exploits.  Angels  must  discern,  with  an 
acuteness  of  perception  never  reached 
by  ourselves  whilst  hampered  by  cor- 
ruption, that  each  energy  in  their  en- 
dowment constitutes  a  requisition  for 
a  contribution  of  glory  to  Jehovah ; 
and  that  the  endeavor  to  employ  it  to 
the  procuring  greatness,  or  happiness, 
for  themselves,  would  amount  to  a  base 
and  fatal  prostitution,  causing  them  to 
be  ranked  with  the  apostate.  And  thus, 
upon  the  simple  principle  that  "  all 
things  come  of  God,"  and  that  only  of 
his  oton  can  they  give  him,  angels,  who 
are  vast  in  might,  and  brilliant  in  puri- 
ty, would  count  it  the  breaking  into  re- 
bellion to  entertain  the  thought  of  the 
possibility  of  merit ;  and  unless  you 
could  prove  to  them  that  God  had  given 
less  than  all,  that  there  were  abilities 
in  their  nature  which  they  had  derived 
from  sources  independent  on  Deity, 
and  that,  consequently,  their  duty  to- 
wards God  required  not  the  dedication 
of  every  iota  of  every  faculty  ;  unless 
you  could  prove  to  them  this, — and 
you  might  prove  this,  when  you  could 
show  to  them  two  Gods,  two  Crea- 
tors, and  parcel  out  between  two  Al- 
mighties the  authorship  of  their  sur- 
passing endowments — you  would  make 
no  way  with  your  demonstration,  that 
it  was  possible  for  an  angel  to  deserve 
of  God.  You  might  accumulate  your 
arguments.  But  as  long  as  they  reached 
not  the  point  thus  marked  out,  still,  as 
the  shining  and  potent  beings  came  in 
from  the  execution  of  lofty  commis- 
sions, and  poured  into  the  treasury  of 
their  Maker  the  noble  contributions  of 
his  accomplisned  purposes,  oh,  they 
would  veil  their  faces,  and  bow  down 
in    lowliness,    and    confess  themselveB 


S8 


IMPOSSIBILITY  OF  CREATURE-MERIT. 


unprofitaLle ;  and  in  place  of  ground- 
ing a  claim  on  the  employment  of  their 
energies  in  the  service  of  Jehovah,  re- 
verently declare  that  the  non-employ- 
ment would  have  deserved  the  fire  and 
the  rack  ;  so  that,  throwing  from  them 
as  impious  the  notion  of  merit,  they 
would  roll  this  chorus  through  the 
heavenly  Temple, . "  all  things  come  of 
thee,  and  of  thine  own,  O  God,  have 
we  given  thee." 

Now  if  we  bnng  down  our  incjuiry 
from  the  higher  orders  of  intelligence 
to  the  lower,  we,  of  course,  carry  with 
us  the  proof  which  has  been  advanced 
of  the  impossibility  of  merit.  .If  we 
pass  from  the  case  of  angels  to  that  of 
men,  we  may  fairly  a2)ply  the  results 
of  our  foregoing  argument,  and  consi- 
der the  one  case  as  involved  in  the 
other.  It  will  hardly  be  disputed,  that, 
if  creatureship  exclude  the  possibility 
of  merit  from  amongst  angels,  it  must 
also  exclude  it  from  amongst  men.  We 
argue  not,  indeed,  that  meiit  is  more 
out  of  the  reach  of  one  rank  of  beings 
than  of  another.  We  simply  contend 
that  with  every  rank  of  being  merit  is 
an  impossibility;  but,  since  a  thing 
cannot  be  more  than  impossible,  we,  of 
course,  do  not  speak  of  degrees  of  im- 
possibility. And  yet,  undoubtedly,  there 
is  a  sense  in  which  an  anjrel  comes 
nearer  merit  than  a  man.  An  an"-el 
falls  not  short  of  duty,  though  it  cannot 
exceed ;  and,  therefore,  it  deserves  no- 
thing, neither  wrath  nor  reward.  A 
man,  on  the  contrary,  falls  short  of 
duty,  and,  therefore  deserves  wrath ; 
though,  even  if  he  fell  not  short,  he 
could  not  exceed,  and,  therefore,  could 
not  deserve  reward.  So  that  the  angel 
goes  further  than  the  man.  The  angel 
fulfils  duty,  but  cannot  overstep.  The 
man  leaves  a  vast  deal  undone  which  ' 
he  is  required  to  do ;  and  he  must,  at 
least,  make  up  deficiencies,  before  he 
can  think  of  an  overplus.  We  may  con- 
sider, then,  that  in  proving  the  impossi- 
bility of  creature-merit,  when  the  crea- 
ture is  angelic,  we  have  equally  proved 
it,  when  the  creature  is  human.  And 
thus  Heaven  would  have  been  as  much 
a  free-gift  to  Adam,  had  he  never  diso- 
beyed by  eating  of  the  fruit,  as  it  now 
is  to  the  vilest  of  his  descendants,  with 
the  treason-banner  in  his  hand,  and  the 
leprosy  spot  on  his  forehead.  Had 
Adam    walked     unflinchingly    through 


his  probation-time,  spuming  back  the 
tempter,  and  swerving  not  an  iota  from 
loyalty  and  love  ;  and  had  he  then  ap- 
peared before  his  Maker,  exclaiming, 
now,  O  God,  I  have  deserved  immorta- 
lity ;  why,  this  very  speech  would  have 
been  the  dcath-knell  of  our  creation ; 
and  Adam  would  as  actually  have  fallen, 
and  as  actually  have  sent  down  the  dark 
bequeathments  of  a  curse  to  his  latest 
posterity,  by  pretending  to  have  merit- 
ed because  he  had  obeyed,  as  now  that 
he  led  the  van  in  rebellion,  and,  break- 
ing a  positive  law,  dislocated  the  happi- 
ness of  a  countless  population. 

We  thus  consider  that  the  impossi- 
bility of  human  merit  follows,  as  a  co- 
rollary, on  our  demonstration  of  the 
impossibility  of  angelic.  But  we  shall 
not  content  ourselves  with  inferring 
the  one  case  from  the  other.  Feeling 
deeply  the  importance  of  your  under- 
standing thoroughly  why  you  cannot 
merit  of  G  od,  we  shall  apply  bi-iefly  our 
text  to  the  commonly-presumed  instan- 
ces of  human  desert. 

You  will  find  one  man  thinking,  that, 
if  he  repent,  he  shall  be  pardoned.  In 
other  words,  he  supposes  that  there  is 
a  virtue  in  repentance  which  causes  it 
to  procure  forgiveness.  Thus  repent- 
ance is  exhibited  as  mei'itorious ;  and 
how  shall  we  simply  prove  that  it  is 
not  meritorious  ]  Why,  allowing  that 
man  can  repent  of  himself — which  he 
cannot — what  is  the  repentance  on 
which  he  presumes  1  What  is  there  in 
it  of  his  own  1  The  tears  1  they  are 
but  the  dew  of  an  eye  which  is  God's. 
The  sighs  ?  they  arc  but  the  heavings 
of  a  heart  which  is  God's.  The  resolu- 
tions ]  tliey  are  but  the  workings  of 
faculties  which  are  God's.  The  amend- 
ment ?  it  is  but  the  better  employment 
of  a  life  which  is  God's.  Where  then 
is  the  merit  ?  O,  find  something  which 
is,  at  the  same  time,  human  and  excel- 
lent in  the  offering,  and  you  may  speak 
of  desert.  But  until  then,  away  with 
the  notion  of  there  being  merit  in  re- 
pentance, seeing  that  the  penitent  man 
must  say,  "All  things  come  of  thee, 
and  of  thine  own,  O  ^'od,  do  I  give 
thee." 

Again  :  some  men  will  speak  of  being 
justified  by  faith,  till  they  come  to  as- 
cribe merit  to  faith.  "  By  faith,"  is  in- 
terpreted as  though  it  meant,  on  ac- 
count   of  faith  ;    and    thus    the    g^eat 


IMPOSSinil.ITY    OF    CREATURE-MERIT. 


39 


truth  is  lost  sight  of,  that  we  are  justi- 
fied freely  "  thi-ougli  the  redemjition 
that  is  in  Christ."  Romans,  3  :  24.  But 
how  can  faith  be  a  meritorious  act  1 
What  is  faith  but  such  an  assent  of  the 
understanding  to  God's  word  as  binds 
the  heart  to  God's  service  ?  And  whose 
is  tnc  understanding,  if  it  be  not  God's  1 
Whose  is  the  heart,  if  it  be  not  God's  1 
And  if  faith  be  nothing  but  the  render- 
ing to  God  that  intellect,  and  that  en- 
ergy, Avhich  we  have  received  from 
God,  how  can  faith  deserve  of  God  ] 
Oh,  as  with  repentance,  so  with  faith ; 
away  with  the  notion  of  merit.  He  who 
believes,  so  that  he  can  dare  the  grave, 
and  grasp  eternity,  must  pour  forth  the 
confession,  "  all  things  come  of  thee, 
and  of  thine  own,  O  God,  do  I  give 
thee." 

And  once  more :  what  merit  can 
there  be  in  works  1  If  you  give  much 
alms,  whose  is  the  money  1  "  The  sil- 
ver is  mine,  and  the  gold  is  mine,  saith 
the  Lord  of  Hosts."  Haggai,  2:8.  If 
you  mortify  the  body,  whose  are  the 
macerated  limbs  ?  If  you  put  sackcloth 
on  the  soul,  whose  is  the  chastened  spi- 
rit 1  If  you  be  moral,  and  honest,  and 
friendly,  and  generous,  and  patriotic, 
whose  are  the  dispositions  which  you 
exercise,  whose  the  powers  to  which 
you  give  culture  and  scope  1  And  if 
you  only  use  God's  gifts,  can  that  be 
meritorious  1  You  may  say,  yes — it  is 
meritorious  to  use  them  aright,  whilst 
others  abuse  them.  But  is  it  wicked- 
ness to  abuse  ]  Then  it  can  only  be 
duty  to  use  aright ;  and  duty  will  be 
merit  when  debt  is  donation.  You  may 
bestow  a  fortune  in  charity ;  but  the 
wealth  is  already  the  Lord's.  You  may 
cultivate  the  virtues  which  adorn  and 
sweeten  human  life  ;  but  the  employed 
powers  are  the  Lord's.  You  may  give 
time  and  strength  to  the  enterprises 
of  philanthropy  ;  each  moment  is  the 
Lord's,  each  sineAV  is  the  Lord's.  You 
may  be  upright  in  every  dealing  of 
trade,  scrupulously  honourable  in  all  the 
intercourses  of  life  ;  but  "  a  just  weight 
and  balance  are  the  Lord's,  all  the 
weigfhts  of  the  bacf  are  his  work."  Prov. 
16  :  11.  And  where  then  is  the  merit  of 
works  1  Oh,  throw  into  one  heap  each 
power  of  the  mind,  each  energy  of  the 
body  ;  use  in  God's  service  each  grain 
of  your  substance,  each  second  of  your 
time  ;  give  to  the  Almighty  every  throb 


of  the  pulse,  oveiy  drawing  of  the 
breath  ;  labor  and  strive,  and  be  instant, 
in  season  and  out  of  season,  and  let  the 
steepness  of  the  mountain  daunt  you 
not,  and  the  swellings  of  the  ocean  de- 
ter you  not,  and  the  ruggedness  of  the 
desert  appal  you  not,  but  on,  still  on, 
in  toiling  for  your  Maker ;  and  dream, 
and  talk,  and  boast  of  merit,  when  you 
can  find  the  particle  in  the  heap,  or  the 
shred  in  the  exploit,  which  you  may  ex- 
clude fi'om  the  confession,  "  all  things 
come  of  thee,  and  of  thi?ie  own,  O  God, 
have  I  given  thee." 

Now  we  would  trust  that  the  impos- 
sibility of  creature-merit  has  thus  been 
established  as  an  inference  from  the 
statement  of  our  text.  We  wish  you 
thoroughly  to  perceive  that  merit  is  in- 
consistent with  creature-ship.  We  do 
not  merely  prove  that  this,  or  that,  or- 
der of  being  cannot  merit.  Merit  is  in- 
consistent with  creatureship.  A  crea- 
ture meriting  of  the  Creator  is  an  im- 
possibility. When  the  archangel  can 
merit,  the  womi  may  merit.  And  he 
alone  who  is  independent ;  he  who  has 
received  nothing  ;  he  who  is  every  thing 
to  himself,  as  well  as  every  thing  to  the 
universe,  his  own  fountain  of  existence, 
his  own  storehouse  of  happiness,  his 
own  harvest  of  glory ;  God  alone  can 
merit,  and,  therefore,  God  alone  could 
redeem. 

We  have  now  only,  in  conclusion,  to 
ask,  whether  you  will  keep  back  from 
God  what  is  strictly  his  own  ?  Will  ye 
rob  God,  and  pawn  his  time,  and  his  ta- 
lents, and  his  strength  with  the  world  1 
Will  ye  refuse  him  what,  though  it  can- 
not be  given  with  merit,  cannot  be  de- 
nied without  ruin  1  He  asks  your  heart ; 
give  it  him ;  it  is  his  own.  He  asks  your 
intellect ;  give  it  him ;  it  is  his  own. 
He  asks  your  money  •  give  it  him  ;  it  is 
his  own.  RBmember  the  words  of  the 
apostle,  "  Ye  are  not  your  own ;  ye  are 
bought  with  a  price."  2  Cor.  6  :  20.  Ye 
are  not  your  own.  Ye  are  bought  even 
if  ye  perish.  Your  bodies  are  not  your 
own,  though  you  may  enslave  them  to 
lust ;  they  are  God's,  to  be  thrown  to 
the  rack.  Your  souls  are  not  your  own, 
though  you  may  hide,  and  tarnish,  and 
degrade  their  immojlality ;  they  are 
God's,  to  be  chained  dov.Ti  to  the  rock, 
that  the  waves  of  wrath  may  dash  and 
break  over  them.  Oh,  we  want  you ; 
nay,  the  spirits  of  the  just  want  you; 


40 


THE  HUMILIATION  OF  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESPS. 


and  the  holy  angels  want  you :  and  the 
Father,  and  tho  Son,  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  want  you ;  all  but  the  devil  and 
ruined  souls  want  you,  to  leave  off  de- 
frauding the  Almighty,  and  to  give  him 
his  oicn,  themselves,  his  by  creation,  his 
doubly  by  redemption.  I  must  give  God 
the  body,  I  must  give  God  the  soul.  I 
give  him  the  body,  if  I  clothe  the  tongue 
with  his  praises  ;  if  I  yield  not  my  mem- 
bers as  instruments  of  unrighteousness ; 
if  I  suffer  not  the  fires  of  unhallowed 
passion  to  light  up  mine  eye,  nor  the 
vampire  of  envy  to  suck  the  color  from 
my  cheek  ;  if  I  profane  not  my  hands 
with  the  gains  of  ungodliness;  if  I  turn 
away  mine  ear  from  the  scoffer,  and 
keep  under  every  appetite,  and  wrestle 
■with  every  lust ;  making  it  palpable  that 


I  consider  each  limb  as  not  destined  to 
corruption,  but  intended  for  illustrious 
service,  when,  at  the  trumpet-blast  of 
the  resurrection,  the  earth's  sepulchres 
shall  be  riven.  And  I  give  God  the  soul, 
when  the  understanding  is  reverently 
turned  on  the  investigations  of  celestial 
truth  ;  when  the  will  is  reduced  to  meek 
compliance  with  the  Divine  will ;  and 
when  all  the  affections  move  so  liarmo- 
niously  Avith  the  Lord's  that  they  fasten 
on  the  objects  which  occupy  his.  This 
it  is  to  give  God  his  own.  O  God  !  "all 
things  come  of  thee."  The  will  to  pre- 
sent oursolvesmust  come  of  thee.  Grant 
that  will  unto  all  of  us,  that  we  may  con- 
secrate unreservedly  every  thing  to  thy 
service,  and  yet  humbly  confess  that  of 
tJiine  own  alone  do  we  give  thee. 


SERMON  IV. 


THE   HUMILIATION   OF    THE    MAN   CHRIST  JESUS. • 


'  And  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  he  humbled  himself,  and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the 

cross." — ^Philippians,  ii.  8. 


We  have  been  spared  to  reach  once 
more  that  solemn  season  at  which  our 
Church  directs  specially  our  attention 
to  the  sufferings  and  death  of  the  Re- 
deemer. There  can  never,  indeed,  be 
the  time  at  which  the  contemplation  of 
the  offcring-iip  of  our  great  high  priest 
is  at  all  out  of  place.  Knowing  the  foun- 
dation of  every  hope,  our  thoughts 
should  be  continually  on  that  substitu- 
tion of  the  innocent  fur  the  guilty  which 
was  made  upon  Calvary,  when  he  "who 
did  no  sin,  neither  was  guile  found  in 
his    mouth,"  1  Peter,    2:22,"bai-e   our 


sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree."  1  Pet, 
2  :  24.  It  is  still,  however,  most  true, 
that  the  preaching  Christ  Jesus  and  him 
crucified,  requires  not,  as  it  consists  not 
in,  the  perpetual  recurrence  to  die  slay- 
ing of  our  surety.  The  pi-eaching  of  the 
cross  is  not,  necessarily,  that  pi'caching 
which  makes  most  frequent  mention  of 
the  cross.  That  is  the  preaching  of  the 
cross,  and  that  is  the  jireaching  of  Christ, 
which  makes  the  crucifixion  of  the  Son 
of  God  its  groundwork;  which  offers 
no  mercy,  and  exhorts  to  no  duty,  but 
on  the   distinct   understanding  that  no 


*  1  am  indebted  to  Bishop  Sherlock  for  much  assistance  in  handling  this  and  the  following 
•object. 


THE  HUMILIATION   OF  THE   MAN   CHRIST  JESUS. 


41 


mercy  could  be  obtained,  had  not  a  Me- 
diator purchased  it ;  no  duty  performed, 
had  he  not  gained  for  us  tlie  power. 
But  when  the  groundwork  has  been  tho- 
roughly laid,  then,  though  it  behooves  us 
occasionally  to  refer  to  first  principles, 
and  to  examine  over  again  the  strength 
of  our  basis,  it  is  certainly  not  our  busi- 
ness to  insist  continually  on  the  presen- 
tation of  sacrifice;  just  as  if,  this  one 
article  received,  the  whole  were  mas- 
tered of  the  creed  of  a  christian. 

For  nothing  do  we  more  admire  the 
services  of  our  Church,  than  for  the 
carefulness  displayed  that  there  be  no 
losing  sight  of  the  leading  doctrines  of 
the  faith.  It  may  be  said  of  the  Clergy 
of  the  Church  of  England,  that  they  are 
almost  compelled  by  the  Almanac,  if  not 
by  a  sense  of  the  high  duties  of  their 
calling,  to  bring  successively  before 
their  congregations  the  prominent  arti- 
cles of  Christianity.  It  is  not  left  to 
their  own  option,  as  it  comparatively 
would  be  if  they  were  not  fastened  to  a 
ritual,  to  pass  a  year  without  speaking 
of  the  Ci-ucifixion,  the  Resun-ection,  and 
Ascension  of  Christ,  of  the  Trinity  of 
persons  in  the  Godhead,  or  of  the  out- 
pouring of  the  Spirit.  If  they  be  dis- 
posed to  keep  any  of  these  matters  out 
of  their  discourses,  the  Collects  bring 
the  omitted  doctrines  before  the  people, 
and  convict  the  pastors  of  unfaithful- 
ness. A  dissenting  congregation  may 
go  on  for  years,  and  never  once  be  di- 
rected to  the  grand  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity  in  Unity.  They  are  dependent 
on  their  minister.  He  may  advance 
what  he  chooses,  and  keep  back  what 
he  chooses ;  for  he  selects  his  own  les- 
sons, as  well  as  his  own  texts.  An  es- 
tablished congregation  is  not  thus  de- 
pendent on  its  minister.  He  may  be  an 
Unitarian  in  his  heart;  but  he  must  be 
80  far  a  Trinitarian  to  his  people  as  to 
declare  from  the  desk,  even  if  he  keep 
silence  in  the  pulpit,  that  "  the  Catholic 
faith  is  this,  that  we  worship  one  God 
in  Trinity,  and  Trinity  in  Unity."*  And 
thus,  whatever  the  objections  which 
may  bo  urged  against  forms  of  prayer, 
we  cannot  but  think  that  a  country  with- 
out a  liturgy  is  a  country  -which  lies 
open  to  all  the  incursions  of  heresy. 

We  obey,  then,  with  thankfulness,  the 


appointment  of  our  Church,  which  turns 
our  thoughts  specially  at  particular 
times  on  particular  doctrines ;  not  at 
any  season  excluding  their  discussion, 
but  providing  that,  at  least  once  in  the 
year,  each  should  occupy  a  prominent 
place. 

We  would  lead  you,  therefore,  now 
to  the  survey  of  the  humihation  of  the 
man  Christ  Jesus,  and  thus  take  a  step 
in  that  pilgrimage  to  Gethsemane  and 
Calvary  which,  at  the  present  time,  is 
enjoined  on  the  faithful. 

Wc  bring  before  you  a  verse  from  the 
well-known  passage  of  Scripture  which 
forms  the  epistle  of  the  day,  and  which 
furnishes  some  of  our  strongest  argti- 
ments  against  those  who  deny  the  di- 
vinity of  Christ.  It  cannot  well  be  dis- 
puted, whatever  the  devised  subterfuges 
for  avoiding  the  inferences,  that  St.  Paul 
speaks  of  the  Mediator  in  three  different 
states;  a  state  of  glory,  when  he  was 
"  in  the  form  of  God ; '  a  state  of  hu- 
miliation, when  he  assumed  "  the  form 
of  a  servant;"  a  state  of  exaltation, 
when  tliere  was  "  given  him  a  name 
which  is  above  every  name."  It  is  fur- 
ther evident,  that  the  state  of  glory 
preceded  the  state  of  humiliation ;  so 
that  Christ  must  have  pre-existed  in  the 
form  of  God,  and  not  have  begun  to 
exist  when  appearing  on  earth  in  the 
form  of  a  servant.  Indeed  the  apostle 
is  inculcating  humility,  and  enforcing 
his  exhortation  by  the  example  of  the 
Savior.  "  Let  this  mind  be  in  you  which 
was  also  in  Christ  Jesus."  You  can  re- 
quire no  proof  that  the  strength  of  this 
exhortation  lies  in  the  fact,  that  Christ 
displayed  a  vast  humility  in  consenting 
to  become  man ;  and  that  it  were  to 
take  from  it  all  poAver,  and  all  meaning, 
to  suppose  him  nothing  more  than  a 
man.  It  is  surely  no  act  of  humility  to 
bo  a  man ;  and  no  individual  can  set  an 
example  of  humility  by  the  mere  being 
a  man.  But  if  one  who  pre-exists  in  an- 
other rank  of  intelligence  become  a 
man,  then,  but  not  otherwise,  there 
may  be  humility,  and  consequently  ex- 
ample, in  his  manhood. 

We  can,  however,  only  suggest  these 
points  to  your  consideration,  desiring 
that  you  may  be  led  to  give  to  the 
whole  passage  that  attention  which  it 


*  Athanasian  Creed. 


42 


THE  HUMILIATIO.X  OF  THE  MAX  CHRIST  JESUS. 


singularly  desen'es.  We  must  confine 
ourselves  to  the  single  verse  which  we 
have  selected  as  our  text,  and  which,  in 
itself,  is  so  full  of  information  that  there 
may  be  difficulty  in  giving  to  each  part 
the  requisite  notice. 

The  verse^refers  to  the  Redeemer  in 
his  humiliation,  but  cannot,  as  we  shall 
find,  be  fairly  interpreted  without  taking 
for  granted  his  pre-existent  glory.  St. 
Paul,  you  observe,  speaks  of  Christ  as 
"  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,"  and  as 
then  humhling  himself,  so  as  to  become 
"  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death 
of  the  cross."  It  will  be  well  that  we 
advance  a  few  remarks  on  the  phrase 
"  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,"  before  we 
consider  that  act  of  humility  here  as- 
cribed to  the  Savior. 

Now  the  true  humanity  of  the  Son 
of  God  is  as  fundamental  an  article  of 
Christianity  as  his  true  divinity.  You 
would  as  effectually  demolish  our  reli- 
gion by  proving  that  Christ  was  not  real 
man,  as  by  proving  that  Christ  was  not 
real  God.  We  must  have  a  mediator 
between  God  and  man;  and  "  a  media- 
tor is  not  a  mediator  of  one,"  Gal.  3  :  20, 
but  must  partake  of  the  nature  of  each. 
Shall  we  ever  hesitate  to  pronounce  it 
the  comforting  and  sustaining  thing  to 
the  followers  of  Christ,  that  the  K.C- 
deemer  is,  in  the  strictest  sense,  their 
kinsman  1  We  may  often  be  required, 
in  the  exercise  of  the  office  of  an  am- 
bassador from  God,  to  set  ourselves 
against  what  we  count  erroneous  doc- 
trines touching  the  humanity  of  the  Sa- 
vior. But  shall  it,  on  this  account,  be 
supposed  that  we  either  undci'rate,  or 
keep  out  of  sight,  this  mighty  truth  of 
Christianity,  that  the  Son  of  God  be- 
came as  truly,  and  as  literally,  man,  as 
I  myself  am  man.  We  cannot,  and  we 
will  not,  allow  that  there  was  in  him 
that  fountain  of  evil  which  there  is  in 
ourselves.  We  contend  that  the  ab- 
sence of  the  fountain,  and  not  the  mere 
prevention  of  the  outbreak  of  its  waters, 
is  indispensable  to  the  constitution  of 
such  ])urity  as  belonged  to  the  holy 
child  Jesus.  But  that  he  was  like  my- 
self in  all  points,  my  sinfulness  only  ex- 
cepted; that  his  flesh,  like  mine,  could 
be  lacerated  by  stripes,  wasted  by  huu- 
jrer,  and  torn  by  nails ;  that  his  soul, 
like  mine,  could  be  assaulted  by  temp- 
taticn,  harassed  by  Satan,  and  disquiet- 
ed under  the  hidings  of  the  countenance 


of  the  Father ;  that  he  could  suffer  eve- 
ry thing  which  I  can  suffer,  except  the 
remorse  of  a  guilty  conscience ;  that 
he  could  weep  every  tear  which  I  can 
weep,  except  the  tear  of  repentance ; 
that  he  could  fear  with  every  fear,  hope 
with  every  hope,  and  joy  with  every 
joy,  which  I  may  entertain  as  a  man, 
and  not  be  ashamed  of  as  a  Christian ; 
there  is  our  creed  on  the  humanity  Ox 
the  Mediator.  If  you  could  once  prove 
that  Christ  was  not  perfect  man — bear- 
ing always  in  mind  that  sinfulness  is 
not  essential  to  this  pcrfectness — there 
would  be  nothing  worth  battling  for  in 
the  truth  that  Christ  was  perfect  God: 
the  only  Redeemer  who  can  redeem, 
like  the  Goel  under  the  law,  my  lost 
heritage,  being  necessarily  my  kins- 
man ;  and  none  being  my  kinsman  who 
is  not  of  the  same  nature,  born  of  a  wo- 
man, of  the  substance  of  that  woman, 
my  brother  in  all  but  rebellion,  myself 
in  all  but  unholiness. 

We  are  bound,  therefore,  to  examine, 
with  all  care,  expressions  which  refer 
to  the  humanity  of  the  Savior,  and  es- 
pecially those  which  inay  carry  the  ap- 
pearance of  impugning  its  reality.  Now 
it  is  remarkable,  and  could  not  be  with- 
out design,  that  St.  Paul  uses  words 
which  go  not  directly  to  the  fact  of 
the  reality  of  the  humanity,  but  which 
might  almost  be  thought  to  evade  that 
fact.  He  does  not  broadly  and  roundly 
assert,  that  Christ  was  man.  He  takes 
what,  at  least,  may  be  called  a  circuit- 
ous method,  and  uses  three  expressions, 
all  similar,  but  none  direct.  "  Took  up- 
on him  the  form  of  a  servant."  "  Was 
made  in  the  likeness  of  men."  "  Being 
found  in  fashion  as  a  man."  There  must, 
we  say,  have  been  some  weighty  reason 
with  the  apostle  why  he  should,  as  it 
were,  have  avoided  the  distinct  men- 
tion of  Christ's  manhood,  and  have  em- 
ployed language  which,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, is  ambiguous.  Why  speak  of  the 
"  form  of  a  servant,"  or  the  "  likeness 
of  men,"  and  of  "  being  found  in  fashion 
as  a  man,"  when  he  wished  to  convey 
the  idea  that  Christ  was  actually  a  ser- 
vant, and  literally  a  man  1 

We  will,  first  of  all,  show  you  that 
these  expressions,  however  apparently 
vasfue  and  indefinite,  could  never  have 
been  intended  to  bring  into  question  tho 
reality  of  Christ's  humility.  The  apos- 
tle employs  precisely  tho  same  kind  ot 


THE  HUMILIATIJN  OF  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS. 


43 


language  in  reference  to  Christ's  divi- 
nity. He  had  before  said  of  the  Savior, 
"who  being  inthe  Jo  rm(>/^  Cod."  If  then 
"  the  Hkeness  of  men,"  or  "  the  form  of 
a  servant,"  implied  that  Christ  was  not 
really  man,  or  not  really  a  servant,  "  the 
form  of  God  "  would  imply  that  he  was 
not  really  God.  The  several  expres- 
sions must  have  a  similar  interpreta- 
tion. And  if,  therefore,  Christ  was  not 
really  man,  Clirist  was  not  really  God; 
and  what  then  was  he  1  Neither  man, 
nor  God  is  a  conclusion  for  which  no 
heretic  is  jircpared.  All  admit  that  he 
was  God  sej^arately,  or  man  separately, 
or  God  and  man  conjointly.  And  there- 
fore the  expressions,  "  form  of  God," 
"  form  of  a  servant,"  must  mean  lite- 
rally God,  and  literally  a  servant;  other- 
wise Christ  was  neither  divine  nor  hu- 
man, but  a  phantom  of  both,  and  there- 
fore a  nothing.  So  that,  whatever  St. 
Paul's  reasons  for  employing  this  kind 
of  expression,  you  see  at  once  that, 
since  he  uses  it  alike,  whether  in  refer- 
ence to  the  connection  of  Christ  with 
divinity,  or  to  that  with  humanity,  it 
can  take  off  nothing  from  the  reality  of 
either  the  manhood  or  the  Godhead. 
If  it  took  from  one,  it  must  take  equally 
from  both.  And  thus  Christ  would  be 
left  without  any  subsistence — a  conclu- 
sion too  monstrous  for  tlint  most  credu- 
lous of  all  things — scepticism. 

We  are  certain,  therefore — inasmuch 
as  the  alternative  is  an  absurdity  which 
waits  not  for  refutation — that  when 
St.  Paul  asserts  of  Clirist  that  he  was 
"  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,"  he  intends 
nothing  at  variance  with  the  doctrine 
of  the  real  humanity  of  the  Savior.  He 
points  him  out  as  actually  man  ;  though, 
for  reasons  which  remain  to  be  investi- 
gated, he  adopts  the  phrase,  "  the  fa- 
shion of  a  man." 

Now  it  cannot,  we  think,  be  doubted 
that  an  opposition  is  designed  between 
the  expressions  "  in  the  form  of  God," 
and  "  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,"  and 
that  we  shall  understand  the  intent  of 
the  latter  only  through  possessing  our- 
selves of  that  of  the  former.  If  you  con- 
sult your  liibles,  you  will  perceive  the 
representation  of  St.  Paul  to  be,  that  it 
was  "  the  form  of  God"  of  which  Christ 
emptied  himself,  or  which  Chnst  laid 
aside,  when  condescending  to  be  bora 
of  a  woman.  "  Who  being  in  the  form 
of  God,  thought  it  not  rcbbery  to  be 


equal  with  God;  but  made  himself  of 
no  reputation,  (so  we  render  it,  but  li- 
terally it  is  '  emptied  himself,')  and 
took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant." 
It  was,  therefore,  "  the  Jh)-m  of  God" 
which  Christ  laid  aside.  He  was  still 
God,  and  could  not,  for  a  lonely  instant, 
cease  to  be  God.  But  he  did  not  appear 
as  God.  He  put  from  him,  or  he  veiled, 
those  effulgent  demonstrations  of  Deity 
which  had  commanded  the  homage,  and 
called  forth  the  admiration  of  the  celes- 
tial hierarchy.  And  though  he  was,  all 
the  while,  God,  God  as  truly,  and  as  ac- 
tually, as  when,  in  the  might  of  mani- 
fested Omnipotence,  he  filled  infinite 
space  with  glorious  masses  of  architec- 
ture, still  he  so  restrained  the  blazings 
of  Divinity  that  he  could  not,  in  the 
same  sense,  be  known  as  God,  but  want- 
ed the  form  whilst  retaining  the  essence. 
He  divested  himself,  then,  of  the  form 
of  God,  and  assumed,  in  its  stead,  the 
form  or  fashion  of  a  man.  Heretofore, 
he  had  both  been,  and  appeared  to  be 
God.  Now  he  was  God,  but  apjieared 
as  a  man.  The  very  being  who  had  daz- 
zled the  heavenly  hosts  in  the  form  of 
God,  walked  the  earth  in  the  forrii  and 
fashion  of  a  man.  Such,  we  think,  is  a 
fair  account  of  the  particular  phrase- 
ology v/hich  St.  Paul  employs.  The 
apostle  is  speaking  of  Christ  as  more 
than  man.  Had  Christ  been  only  man, 
how  preposterous  to  say  of  him,  that 
he  was  "  found  in  fashion  as  a  man." 
What  other  fashion,  what  other  out- 
ward appearance,  can  a  mere  man  j^re- 
sent,  but  the  fashion,  the  outward  ap- 
pearance of  a  man  ]  But  if  Christ  were 
God,  and  yet  appeared  as  man,  there  is 
perfect  accuracy  in  the  statement  that 
he  was  "  found  in  fashion  as  a  man; " 
and  we  can  understand,  readily  enough, 
how  he  who  never  ceased,  and  could 
not  cease  to  be  God,  might,  at  one  time, 
manifest  divinity  in  the  form  of  God, 
and,  at  another,  shroud  that  divinity  in 
the  form  of  a  servant. 

We  would  pause  yet  a  moment  on 
this  point,  for  it  is  worth  your  closest 
attention.  We  are  told  that  Christ 
"  emptied  himself,"  so  that  "  though  he 
was  rich,  yet  for  our  sakes  he  became 
poor."  2  Cor.  8 :  9.  But  of  what  did  he 
empty  himself?  Not  of  his  being,  not 
of  his  nature,  not  of  his  attributes.  It 
must  be  blasphemous  to  speak  of  pro- 
perties of  Godhead   as  laid   aside,  oi 


44 


THE  HUMILIATION  OF  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JEStJS. 


even  suspended.  But  Christ  "  emptied 
liimseM""  of  the  glories  and  the  majes- 
ties to  which  he  had  claim,  and  which, 
as  he  sat  on  the  throne  of  the  heavens, 
he  possessed  in  unmeasured  abundance. 
Whatsoever  he  was  as  to  nature  and 
essence,  whilst  appearing  amongst  the 
angels  in  the  form  of  God,  that  he  con- 
tinued to  be  still,  when,  in  the  form  of 
a  servant,  he  walked  the  scenes  of  hu- 
man habitation.  But  then  the  glories  of 
the  form  of  God,  these  for  a  while  he 
altogether  abandoned.  If  indeed  he  had 
appeared  upon  earth — as,  according  to 
the  dignity  of  his  nature,  he  had  right 
to  appear — in  the  majesty  and  glory  of 
the  Highest,  it  might  be  hard  to  under- 
stand what  riches  had  been  lost  by  di- 
vinity. The  scene  of  display  would 
have  been  changed.  But  the  splendor 
of  display  being  unshorn  and  undimin- 
ished, the  armies  of  the  sky  might  have 
congregated  round  the  Mediator,  and 
have  given  in  their  full  tale  of  homage 
and  admiration.  But,  oh,  it  was  poverty 
that  the  Creator  should  be  moving  on 
a  province  of  his  own  emjoire,  and  yet 
not  be  recognized  nor  confessed  by  his 
creatures.  It  was  poverty  that,  when 
he  walked  amongst  men,  scattering 
blessings  as  he  trode,  the  anthem  of 
praise  floated  not  around  him,  and  the 
air  was  often  burdened  with  the  curse 
and  the  blasphemy.  It  was  poverty  that, 
as  he  passed  to  and  fro  through  tribes 
whom  he  had  made,  and  whom  he  had 
come  down  to  redeem,  scarce  a  soli- 
tary voice  called  him  blessed,  scarce 
a  solitary ,  hand  was  stretched  out  in 
friendship,  and  scarce  a  solitary  roof 
ever  profiered  him  shelter.  And  when 
you  contrast  this  deep  and  desolate  po- 
verty with  that  exuberant  wealth  which 
had  been  always  his  own,  whilst  heaven 
continued  the  scene  of  his  manifesta- 
tions— the  wealth  of  the  anthem-peal 
of  ecstasy  from  a  million  rich  voices, 
and  of  the  solemn  bowing  down  of 
sparkling  multitudes,  and  of  the  glow- 
ing homage  of  immortal  hierarchies, 
whensoever  he  showed  forth  his  power 
or  his  purposes — ye  cannot  fail  to  per- 
ceive that,  in  taking  upon  him  flesh,  the 
Eternal  Son  descended,  most  literally, 
from  abundance  to  want;  and  that, 
though  he  continued  just  as  mighty  as 
before,  just  as  infinitely  gifted  with  all 
the  stores  and  resources  of  essential  di- 
vinity, the  transition  was  so  total,  from 


the  reaping-in  of  glory  from  the  wnolo 
field  of  the  universe  to  the  receiving, 
comparatively,  nothing  of  his  revenues 
of  honor,  that  we  may  assert,  without 
reser^'e,  and  without  figure,  that  ho 
who  was  rich,  for  our  sakes  became 
poor.  "In  the  form  of  God,"  he  had 
acted  as  it  were,  visibly,  amid  the  en- 
raptured plaudits  of  angel  and  arch- 
angel, cherubim  and  seraphim.  But 
now,  in  the  form  of  man,  he  must  be 
withdrawn  from  the  delighted  inspec- 
tions of  the  occupants  of  heaven,  and 
act,  as  powerfully  indeed  as  before,  but 
mysteriously  and  invisibly,  behind  a 
dark  curtain  of  flesh,  and  on  the  dreary 
platform  of  a  sin-burdened  territory. 
So  that  the  antithesis,  "the  form  of 
God,"  and  "found  in  fashion  as  a  man," 
marks  accurately  the  change  to  which 
the  Mediator  submitted.  And  thus, 
whilst  on  our  former  showings,  there  is 
no  imj^eachment,  in  the  phrase,  of  tlie 
reality  of  Christ's  humanity,  Ave  now 
exract  from  the  description  a  clear 
witness  to  the  divinity  of  Jesus,  and 
show  you  that  a  form  of  speech  which 
seems,  at  first  sight,  vague  and  indefi- 
nite, was,  if  not  rendered  unavoidable, 
yet  readily  dictated,  by  the  union  of 
natures  in  the  person  of  the  Redeemer. 

But  we  will  now  pass  on  to  consider 
that  act  of  humility  which  is  ascribed 
in  our  text  to  Christ  Jesus.  "  Being 
found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  he  humhlcd 
himself,  and  became  obedient  unto 
death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross." 

Now  wo  would  have  it  obsei'ved — for 
some  of  the  greatest  truths  in  theology 
depend  on  the  fact — that  the  apostle  is 
here  speaking  of  what  Christ  did  after 
he  had  assumed  humanity,  and  not  or 
what  he  did  in  assuming  humanity. 
There  was  an  act  of  humiliation,  such 
as  mortal  thought  cannot  compass,  in 
the  coming  down  of  Deity,  and  his 
tabernacling  in  flesh.  We  may  well  ex- 
claim, wonder,  O  heavens,  and  be  aston- 
ished, O  earth,  when  we  remember  that 
He  whom  the  universe  cannot  contain, 
did,  literally,  condescend  to  circum- 
scribe himself  within  the  form  of  a  ser- 
vant ;  and  that  in  no  figure  of  speech, 
but  in  absolute,  though  mysterious  re- 
ality, "  the  Word  was  made  flesh,"  St. 
John,  1  :  14,  and  the  Son  of  the  High- 
est born  of  a  pure  virgin.  We  shall 
never  And  terms  in  which  to  embody 
oven  our  own  conceptions  of  this  un 


THE  UUMII.rATION   OF  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS. 


45 


measured  humiliation  ;  whilst  these  con- 
ceptions themselves  leave  altogether 
unapproached  the  boundary  lines  of  the 
wonder.  Who  can  "  by  searching  find 
out  CJod  ]"  Job,  11:7.  Who,  then,  by 
striving  can  calculate  the  abasement 
that  (Jod  should  become  man"?  If  I 
could  climb  to  Deity,  I  might  know 
what  it  was  for  Deity  to  descend  into 
d'jst.  Bui  forasmuch  as  God  is  inac- 
cessiole  to  all  my  soarings,  it  can  never 
come  within  the  compass  of  my  imagi- 
nation to  tell  up  the  amount  of  conde- 
scension ;  and  it  will  always  reinain  a 
prodigy,  too  large  for  every  thing  but 
faith,  that  the  Creator  coalesced  with  the 
creature,  and  so  constituted  a  mediator. 

But  it  is  not  to  this  act  of  humilia- 
tion that  our  text  beai-s  reference.  This 
was  the  humiliation  in  the  assumption 
of  humanity.  But  after  humanity  had 
been  assumed,  when  Christ  was  "  found 
in  fashion  as  a  man,"  he  yet  further 
humbled  himself;  so  that,  over  and 
above  the  humiliation  as  God,  there 
was  an  humiliation  as  man.  And  it  is  on 
this  fact  that  we  would  fasten  your  at- 
tention. You  are  to  view  the  Son  of 
God  as  having  brought  himself  down 
to  the  level  of  humanity,  as  having  laid 
aside  his  dignities,  and  taken  part  of 
the  flesh  and  the  blood  of  those  -whom 
ne  yearned  to  redeem.  But  then  you 
are  not  to  consider  that  the  humiliation 
ended  here.  You  are  not  to  suppose 
that  whatsoever  came  after  was  Avound 
up,  so  to  speak,  in  the  original  humilia- 
tion, and  thus  was  nothing  more  than 
its  fuller  developement.  God  humbled 
himself,  and  became  man.  But  there 
was  yet  a  lower  depth  to  which  this 
first  humiliation  did  not  necessarily 
carry  him.  "  Being  found  in  fashion  as 
a  man,  he  humbled  himself.'' 

The  apostle  does  not  leave  us  to  con- 
jecture in  what  this  second  humiliation 
mainly  consisted.  He  represents  it  as 
submission  to  death,  "  even  the  death 
of  the  cross."  So  that,  after  becom- 
ing man,  it  was  "humbling  himself"  to 
yield  to  tnat  sentence  from  which  no  man 
is  exempted.  It  was  "  humbling  him- 
self," to  die  at  all ;  it  was  "  humbling 
himself"  still  more,  to  die  ignominiously. 

We  will  examine  successively  these 
statements,  and  the  conclusions  to 
which  they  naturally  lead. 

It  was  humility  in  Christ  to  die  at 
all.  Who  tlien  was  this  mysterious  man 


of  whom  it  can  be  said  that  he  humbled 
himself  in  dying  1  Who  can  that  man 
be,  in  whom  that  was  humility  which, 
in  others,  is  necessity  %  Has  thei'e  ever 
been  the  individual  amongst  the  natu- 
ral descendants  of  Adam,  however  rare 
his  endowments  or  splendid  his  achieve- 
ments, however  illustrious  by  the  might 
of  hei-oism,  or  endeared  by  the  warmth 
of  philanthropy,  of  whom  we  could  say 
that  it  was  humility  in  him  to  die  1  It 
were  as  just  to  say  that  it  was  humility 
in  him  to  have  had  only  five  senses,  as 
that  it  was  humility  in  him  to  die.  The 
most  exalted  piety,  the  nearest  ap- 
proaches to  perfection  of  character,  the 
widest  distances  between  himself  and 
all  others  of  the  race ;  these,  and  a 
hundred  the  like  reasons,  would  never 
induce  us  to  give  harborage,  for  an  in- 
stant, to  the  thought  that  a  man  stood 
exempt  from  the  lot  of  humanity,  or 
that  it  was  left,  in  any  sense,  to  his 
option  whether  or  no  he  would  die. 
And,  therefore,  if  there  be  a  strong  me- 
thod of  marking  off  a  man  from  the 
crowd  of  the  human  species,  and  of  dis- 
tinguishing him  from  all  who  bear  the 
same  outward  appearance,  in  some 
mightier  respects  than  those  of  a  men- 
tal or  moral  superiority,  is  it  not  the 
ascribing  to  him  what  we  may  call  a 
lordship  over  life,  or  the  representing 
him  as  so  literally  at  liberty  to  live,  that 
it  shall  be  humility  in  him  to  die  1  We 
hold  it  for  an  incontrovertible  truth, 
that,  had  St.  Paul  said  nothing  of  the 
prc-existent  glory  of  our  Mediator, 
there  would  have  been  enough  in  the 
expression  of  our  text  to  satisfy  unpre- 
judiced minds  that  a  mere  man,  such 
as  one  of  ourselves,  could  be  no  just 
desci'iption  of  the  Lord  Christ  Jesus. 
If  it  were  humility  in  the  man  to  die, 
there  must  have  been  a  power  in  the 
man  of  refusing  to  die.  If,  in  becominor 
"  obedient  unto  death,"  the  man  ''hum- 
bled himself,"  there  can  be  no  debate 
that  his  dying  was  a  voluntary  act;  and 
that,  had  he  chosen  to  decline  submis- 
sion to  the  rending  asunder  of  soul  and 
body,  he  might  have  continued  to  this 
day,  \inworn  by  disease,  unbroken  by 
age,  the  immortal  man,  the  indestruc- 
tible flesh.  We  can  gather  nothing  from 
such  fonn  of  expression,  but  that  it 
would  have  been  quite  possible  for  the 
Mediator  to  have  upheld,  through  long 
cycles,  undecayed  his  humanity,  and  to 


46 


THE  HUMILIATION  OF  TUE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS. 


have  preserved  it  stanch  and  unbroken, 
whilst  generation  after  generation  rose, 
and  flourished,  and  fell.  He  in  whom  it 
was  humility  to  die,  must  have  been 
one  who  could  have  resisted,  through 
a  succession  of  ages,  the  approaches 
of  death,  and  thus  have  still  trodden 
our  earth,  the  child  of  centuries  past, 
the  heir  of  centuries  to  come. 

We  plead  for  it  as  a  most  simple  and 
necessary  deduction,  and  we  deny  alto- 
gether that  it  is  a  harsh  and  overstrain- 
ed inference,  from  the  fact  that  the  man 
Clirist  Jesus  humbled  himself  in  dying, 
that  the  man  was  more  than  man,  and 
that  a  nature,  higher  than  human,  yea, 
even  divine,  belonged  to  his  person. 
We  can  advance  no  other  account  of 
such  an  act  of  humility.  If  you  were 
even  to  say  that  the  second  Adam  was, 
in  every  respect,  just  such  a  man  as  the 
first,  ere  evil  entered,  and,  v.'ith  it,  ob- 
noxiousness  to  death,  you  would  intro- 
duce greater  difficulties  than  the  one 
to  be  removed.  You  may  say  that  if, 
for  the  sake  of  winnino:  some  advantaofc 
to  his  posterity,  Adam,  whilst  yet  un- 
fallen,  and  therefore,  without  "  the  sen- 
tence of  death,"  2  Cor.  1 : 2,  in  his  mem- 
bers, had  consented  to  die,  ho  would, 
strictly  speaking,  have  humbled  him- 
self in  dying;  and  that  consequent- 
ly Christ,  supposing  him  sinless  like 
Adam,  and  therefore,  under  no  necessi^ 
ty  of  death,  might  have  displayed  hu- 
mility in  consenting  to  die,  and  yet  not 
thereby  have  proved  himself  divine  as 
well  as  human.  We  are  not  disposed 
to  controvert  the  statement.  So  far  as 
we  can  judge — though  we  have  some 
jealousy  of  allowing  that  a  mere  crea- 
ture can  humhlc  himself  in  executing 
God's  work — it  may  be  true,  that,  had 
the  man  Christ  Jesus  been,  in  every  re- 
spect, similar  to  the  unfallen  Adam, 
there  might  have  been  humility  in  his 
dying,  and  yet  no  divinity  in  his  person. 

JJut  then  we  strenuously  set  our- 
selves against  such  a  false  and  perni- 
cious view  of  the  Savior's  humanity. 
We  will  admit  that  a  Papist,  but  we 
deny  that  a  Protestant  can,  without 
doing  utter  violence  to  his  creed,  main- 
tain that  in  every  respect  Christ  re- 
sembled the  unfallen  Adam.  The  Pa- 
p'st  entertains   extravagant  notions   of 


the  virgin-mother  of  our  Lord.  He  sup- 
poses her  to  have  been  immaculate, 
and  free  from  original  corruption.  The 
Protestant,  on  the  contrary,  Avithhold- 
ing  not  from  Mary  due  honor  and  es- 
teem, classes  her,  in  every  sense, 
amongst  the  daughters  of  man,  and  be- 
lieves that,  whatever  her  superior  love- 
liness of  character,  she  had  her  full 
share  of  the  pollution  of  our  nature. 
Now  it  may  consist  well  enough  with 
the  Papist's  theory,  but  it  is  Avholly  at 
variance  with  the  Protestant's,  to  sup- 
j30se  that  the  man  Jesixs,  made  of  the 
substance  of  his  mother,  had  a  human- 
ity, like  that  of  Adam,  free  from  infir- 
inity  as  well  as  fi'om  sinful  propensity. 
And  we  can  never  bring  up  the  human- 
ity of  Christ  into  exact  sameness  with 
the  humanity  of  Adam,  without  either 
overthroAving  the  fundamental  article 
of  faith,  that  the  Redeemer  was  the 
seed  of  the  woman,  or  ascribing  to  his 
mother  such  preternatural  purity  as 
makes  her  own  birth  as  mysterious  as 
her  son's. 

We  should  pause,  for  a  moment,  in 
our  argument,  and  speak  on  the  point 
of  the  Savior's  humanity.  AVe  are  told 
that  Christ's  humanity  was  in  every 
respect  the  same  as  our  own  humanity; 
fallen,  therefore,  as  ours  is  fallen.  But 
Christ,  as  not  being  one  of  the  natural 
descendants  of  Adam,  was  not  included 
in  the  covenant  made  with,  and  viola- 
ted by,  our  common  father.  Hence  his 
humanity  was  the  solitary  exception, 
the  only  humanity  which  became  not 
fallen  humanity,  as  a  consequence  on 
apostacy.  If  a  man  be  a  fallen  man,  he 
must  have  fallen  in  Adam ;  in  other 
words,  he  must  be  one  of  those  whora 
Adam  federally  represented.  But  Christ, 
as  being  emphatically  the  seed  of  the 
woman,  was  not  thus  federally  rej^re- 
sented ;  and  therefore  Christ  fell  not, 
as  we  fell  in  Adam.  He  had  not  been 
a  party  to  the  broken  covenant,  and  thus 
could  not  be  a  sharer  in  the  guilty  con- 
sequences of  the  infraction. 

But,  nevertheless,  while  wo  argue 
that  Christ  was  not  what  is  termed  a 
fallen  man,  we  contend  that,  since 
"  made  of  a  woman,"  Galatians,  4  ;  4, 
he  was  as  truly  "  man,  of  the  substance 
of  his  mother,"  *  as  any  one  amongst 


*  Athanasian  Creed. 


THE  HUMILIATION   OF  THE   MAN  CHRIST  JESU§. 


47 


ourselves,  the  weakest  and  most  sinful. 
He  was  "  made  of  a  woman,"  and  not  a 
new  creation,  like  Adam  in  Paradise. 
When  we  say  that  Christ's  humanity 
was  unfallen,  we  are  far  enough  from 
saying  that  his  humanity  was  the  same 
as  that  of  Adam,  before  Adam  trans- 
gressed. He  took  humanity  with  all 
those  innocent  infirmities,  hut  witliout 
any  of  those  sinful  propensities,  which 
the  fall  entailed.  There  are  consequen- 
ces on  guilt  which  arc  perfectly  guilt- 
less. Sin  introduced  pain,  but  pain  it- 
self is  not  sin.  And  therefore  Christ, 
as  being  "  man,  of  the  substance  of  his 
mother,"  derived  from  her  a  sviffering 
humanity;  but  as  "conceived  by  the 
Holy  Ghost,"*  he  did  not  derive  a 
sinful.  Fallen  humanity  denotes  a  hu- 
manity which  has  descended  from  a 
state  of  moral  purity  to  one  of  moral 
impurity.  And  so  long  as  there  has  not 
been  this  descent,  humanity  may  re- 
main unfallen,  and  yet  pass  from  physi- 
cal strength  to  physical  weakness.  This 
is  exactly  what  we  hold  on  the  humani- 
ty of  the  Son  of  God.  We  do  not  as- 
sert that  Chi'ist's  humanity  was  the 
Adamic  humanity ;  the  humanity,  that 
is,  of  Adam  whilst  still  loyal  to  Jeho- 
vah. Had  this  humanity  been  rejDi'odu- 
ced,  there  must  have  been  an  act  of 
creation ;  whereas,  beyond  controver- 
sy, Christ  was  "  made  of  a  woman," 
and  not  created,  like  Adam,  by  an  act 
of  omnipotence.  And  allowing  that 
Christ's  humanity  was  not  the  Adamic, 
of  course  we  allow  that  there  were  con- 
sequences of  the  fall  of  which  it  par- 
took. We  divide,  therefore,  these  con- 
sequences into  innocent  infirmities,  and 
sinful  propensities.  From  both  was 
Adam's  humanity  free  before,  and  with 
both  was  it  endowed  after,  transgres- 
sion. Hence  it  is  enough  to  have  ei- 
ther, and  the  humanity  is  broadly  dis- 
tinguished from  the  Adamic.  Now 
Christ  took  humanity  with  the  inno- 
cent infirmities.  He  derived  humanity 
from  his  mother.  Bone  of  her  bone, 
and  flesh  of  her  flesh,  like  her  he  could 
hunger,  and  thirst,  and  weep,  and 
mourn,  and  writhe,  and  die.  But  wliilst 
he  took  humanity  with  the  innocent 
infirmities,  he  did  not  take  it  with  the 
sinful  propensities.     Here  Deity  inter- 


posed. The  Holy  Ghost  overshadowed 
the  Virgin,  and,  allowing  weakness  to 
be  derived  from  her,  forbade  wicked- 
ness; and  so  caused  that  there  should 
be  generated  a  sorrowing  and  a  suffer- 
ing humanity,  but  neveithelcss  an  un- 
defiled  and  a  spotless  ;  a  humanity  with 
tears,  but  not  with  stains;  accessible 
to  anguish,  but  not  prone  to  offend; 
allied  most  closely  with  the  produced 
misery,  but  infinitely  removed  from  the 
producing  cause.  So  that  we  hold — 
and  we  give  it  you  as  what  we  believe 
the  orthodox  doctrine — that  Christ's 
humanity  was  not  the  Adamic  humani- 
ty, that  is,  the  humanity  of  Adam  be- 
fore the  fall;  nor  fallen  humanity,  that 
is,  in  every  respect  the  humanity  of 
Adam  after  the  fall.  It  was  not  the  Ad- 
amic, because  it  had  the  innocent  infir- 
mities of  the  fallen./  It  was  not  the 
fallen,  because  it  had  never  descended 
into  moral  impurity.  It  was,  therefore, 
most  literally  our  humanity,  but  with- 
out sin.  "  Made  of  a  woman,"  Christ 
derived  all  from  his  mother  that  we 
derive,  except  sinfulness.  And  this  he 
dez'ived  not,  because  Deity,  in  the  per- 
son of  the  Holy  Ghost,  interposed  be- 
tween the  child  and  the  pollution  n^ 
the  parent. 

But  we  nov/  recur  to  the  subject- 
matter  of  discussion.  We  may  consi- 
der our  position  untouched,  that  since 
a  man  "made  of  a  woman,"  humbled 
himself  in  dying,  he  must  have  had  an- 
other nature  which  gave  him  such  pow- 
er over  the  human,  that  he  might  either 
yield  to,  or  resist,  its  infirmities.  Christ 
took  our  nature  with  its  infirmities. 
And  to  die  is  one  of  these  infirmities, 
just  as  it  is  to  hunger,  or  to  thirst,  or  to 
be  weary.  There  is  no  sin  in  dvino-.  It 
IS,  indeed,  a  consequence  on  sin.  But 
consequences  may  be  endured  witliout 
share  in  the  cause;  so  that  Christ 
could  take  flesh  which  had  in  it  a  ten- 
dency to  death,  but  no  tendency  to  sin. 
It  is  not  saying  that  Christ's  flesh  was 
sinful  like  our  own,  to  say  that  it  was 
coiTuptible  like  our  own.  There  might 
be  eradicated  all  the  tendencies  to  the 
doing  wrong,  and  still  be  left  all  the 
physical  entailments  of  the  wrong  done 
by  another.  And  no  man  can  read  the 
prophecy,    "thou    wilt    not    leave    my 


*  Apostles'  Creed. 


48 


THE  HUMTLIATIOV  OP  THE  MAX  CHRIST  JESUS. 


Boul  in  hell,  neither  wilt  thou  suffer 
thine  Holy  One  to  sec  coiruption," 
Psalm  16  :  10,  without  perceiving  that 
there  was  no  natural  incorruptibility, 
and,  therefore,  no  natural  deathlessness 
in  the  flesh  of  Christ  Jesus  ;  for  if  the 
flesh  had  been  naturally  incorruptible, 
and,  therefore,  naturally  deathless,  liow 
could  God  be  represented  as  providing 
that  this  flesh  should  not  remain  so 
long  in  the  grave  as  "  too  see  con"up- 
tion  ?  "  The  ]n-ophecyhas  no  meaning, 
if  it  be  denied  that  Christ's  body  would 
have  corrupted,  had  it  continued  in  the 
sepulchre. 

We  may  assert,  then,  that  in  Christ's 
humanity,  as  in  our  own,  there  was  a 
tendency  to  dissolution  ;  a  tendency  re- 
sulting from  entailed  infirmities  which 
were  innocent,  but  in  no  degree  from 
sinfulness,  whether  derived  or  con- 
tracted. But  as  the  second  person  in 
the  Trinity,  the  Lord  of  life  and  glory, 
Christ  Jesus  possessed  an  unlimited 
control  over  this  tendency,  and  might, 
had  he  pleased,  for  ever  have  suspend- 
ed, or  for  ever  have  counteracted  it. 
And  herein  lay  the  alleged  act  of  hu- 
mility. Christ  was  unquestionably  mor- 
tal ;  otherwise  it  is  most  clear  that  he 
could  not  have  died  at  all.  But  it  is  to 
the  full  as  unquestionable  that  he  must 
have  been  more  than  mortal ;  other- 
wise death  was  unavoidable  ;  and  where 
can  be  the  humility  of  submitting  to 
that  which  Ave  have  no  power  of  avoid- 
ing ]  As  mere  man,  he  was  mortal. 
But  then  as  God,  the  well-spring  of  life 
to  the  pojiulation  of  the  universe,  he 
:ould  forever  have  withstood  the  ad- 
vances of  death,  and  have  refused  it  do- 
minion in  his  own  divine  person.  But 
"he  humljlod  himself"  In  order  that 
there  might  come  down  u2>on  him  the 
fulness  of  the  wrath-cup,  and  that  he 
might  exhaust  the  penalties  whic-h  roll- 
ed, like  a  sea  of  fire,  between  earth  and 
heaven,  he  allowed  scope  to  that  liablc- 
ness  to  death  which  he  might  for  ever 
have  arrested  ;  and  died,  not  throuo-h 
any  necessity,  but  through  the  act  of 
his  own  will ;  died,  inasmuch  as  his 
humanity  was  mortal ;  died  voluntarily, 
inasmuch  as  his  person  was  divine. 

And  this  was  humility.  If,  on  becom- 
ing man,  he  had  ceased  to  be  God, 
there  would  have  been  no  humility  in 
his  death.  He  would  only  have  submit- 
ted to  what  ho  could  not  have  declin- 


ed. But  since,  on  becoming  wliat  he 
was  not,  he  ceased  not  to  be  what  ha 
was,  he  brought  down  into  the  fashion 
of  man  all  the  life-giving  energies 
which  appertained  to  him  as  God ;  and 
lie  stood  on  the  eaith,  the  wondrous 
combination  of  tAvo  natures  in  one  per- 
son ;  the  one  nature  infirm  and  tending 
to  decay,  the  other  self-existent,  and 
the  source  of  all  being  throughout  a 
crowded  immensity. 

And  the  one  nature  might  have  eter 
nally  kept  up  the  other;  and,  with- 
standing the  inroads  of  disease,  and 
pouring  in  fresh  supplies  of  vitality, 
have  given  undecaying  vigor  to  the 
mortal,  perpetual  youth  to  the  coiTup- 
tible.  But  how  then  could  the  Scrip- 
tures have  been  fulfilled;  and  wheie 
would  have  been  the  expiation  for  the 
sins  of  a  burdened  and  groaning  crea- 
tion? It  was  an  act  of  humility — the 
tongue,  we  have  told  you,  cannot  ex- 
press it,  and  the  thought  cannot  com- 
pass it — that,  "for  us  men  and  for  Our 
salvation,"  the  Eternal  Word  consent- 
ed to  "be  made  flesh."  God  became 
man.  It  was  stupendous  humility.  But 
he  was  not  yet  low  enough.  The  man 
must  humble  himself,  humble  himself 
even  unto  death  ;  for  "  without  shed- 
ding of  blood  is  no  remission."  He- 
brews, 9  :  22,  And  he  did  humble  him- 
self Death  was  avoidable,  but  he  sub- 
mitted ;  the  grave  might  have  been 
overstepped,  but  he  entered. 

It  would  not  have  been  the  working 
out  of  human  redemption,  and  the  mil- 
lions with  whom  he  had  entered  into 
brotherhood  would  have  remained  un- 
delivered from  their  thraldom  to  Satan, 
had  Ueity  simply  united  itself  to  hu- 
manity, and  then  upheld  humanity  so 
as  to  enable  it  to  defy  its  great  enemy, 
death.  Tliere  lay  a  curse  on  the  earth's 
population,  and  he  who  would  be  their 
surety  must  do  more  than  take  their 
nature — he  must  carry  it  through  llie 
darkness  and  the  fearfulness  of  the  real- 
ized malediction.  But  what  else  was 
this  but  a  fresh  act  of  humility,  a  nqw 
and  unlimited  stretch  of  condescen- 
sion 1  Even  whilst  on  earth,  and  cloth- 
ed round  with  human  flesh  and  blood, 
Christ  Jesus  was  still  that  great  "  I  am," 
who  sustains  "  all  things  by  the  word 
of  his  power,"  Hebrews,  1  :  .3,  and  out 
of  whose  fulness  every  rank  of  created 
intelligence  hath,  from  the   beginning, 


THE  HUMILIATION   OK  THE   MAN  CliniST  JESUS. 


drawn  the  elements  of  existence.  And 
theretbrc,  tlumgli  "  found  in  fasliion  as 
a  man,"  he  was  all  along  infinitely  su- 
perior to  the  necessity  of  human  na- 
ture ;  and,  being  able  to  lay  down  life 
and  to  take  it  again  at  pleasure,  was 
only  subject  to  death  bcca\ise  deter- 
mining to  die.  It  was  then  humility  to 
die.  It  was  the  voluntary  submission 
to  a  curse.  It  was  a  free-will  descent 
from  the  high  privilege  of  bearing 
on  humanity  through  the  falling  myri- 
ads of  successive  generations,  and  of 
strengthening  it  to  walk  as  the  denizen 
of  eternity,  whilst  there  went  forward 
unresisted,  on  the  right  hand  and  on 
the  left,  the  mowing-down  the  species. 
And  when,  therefore,  you  W(tuld  de- 
scribe the  humiliation  of  the  Son  of 
God,  think  not  that  you  have  opened 
the  depths  of  aJbasement,  when  you 
have  sliown  him  exchanging  the  throne 
of  light,  and  the  gh>i"y  whicli  he  had 
with  the  Father,  for  a  tabernacle  of 
flesh,  and  companionship  with  the  rc- 
ho).  Ho  went  down  a  second  abyss,  we 
had  almost  said,  as  fathomless  as  the 
first.  From  heaven  to  earth,  ^\ho  shall 
measure  it]  But  when  on  earth,  when 
a  m:in,  there  was  the  whole  precipice 
of  God's  curse,  not  one  hair-breadth  of 
which  was  he  necessitated  to  descend. 
And  when,  therefore,  he  threw  himself 
over  this  precipice,  and  sank  into  the 
grave,  who  will  deny  that  there  was  a 
new  and  overwhelming  display  of  con- 
descension ;  that  there  was  performed 
by  the  God-man,  even  as  there  had  been 
by  the  God,  an  act  of  self-humiliation 
to  which  we  can  find  no  parallel ;  and 
that,  consequently,  "  being  found  in 
fashion  as  a  man,  Christ  hainhlcd  him- 
self, and  became  obedient  unto  death  .?" 

But  this  is  not  all.  You  have  not  yet 
completed  the  sun-^ey  of  the  Mediator's 
humiliation. 

It  was  wonderful  self-abasement  that 
he  should  choose  to  die.  But  the  man- 
ner of  the  death  makes  the  humility  a 
thousand  fold  more  apparent.  "  He  be- 
came obedient  unto  death,  even  the 
death  of  the  cross."  We  wish  it  observ- 
ed that  Christ  Jesus  was  not  insensible 
to  ignominy  and  disgrace.  Ho  submit- 
ted ;  but,  oh,  he  felt  acutely  and  bitter- 
ly. You  cannot  cause  a  sharper  pang  to 
an  ingenuous  and  upright  mind  than  by 
the  imputation  of  crime.  The  conscious- 
ness of  innocence  only   heightens    the 


smart.  It  is  the  guilty  man  who  cares 
only  for  the  being  condennieJ — the 
guiltless  is  pierced  tlu-ough  and  tlnf)ugh 
i)y  tlhe  being  accused.  And  let  it  never 
be  thought  that  the  humanity  of  the 
Son  of  God,  holy  and  undefiled  as  it 
was,  possessed  not  this  sensitiveness 
to  disgrace.  "  Be  ye  come  out  as  a- 
gainst  a  thief,  with  swords  and  staves  ?  " 
St.  Luke,  22  :  52,  was  a  remonstrance 
which  clearly  showed  that  he  felt  keen- 
ly the  shame  of  unjust  and  rufhanly 
treatment.  And  as  if  it  were  not  hu- 
njiliation  enough  to  die,  shall  he,  with 
all  this  sensitiveness  to  disgrace,  die 
the  death  which  was,  of  all  others,  ig- 
nominious ]  a  death  appropriated  to  the 
basest  condition  of  the  worst  men,  and 
lui worthy  of  a  free  man,  whatever  the 
amount  of  his  guiltiness  1  Shall  the 
separation  of  soul  from  body  be  effect- 
ed by  an  execution  to  which  none 
were  doomed  but  the  most  wretched  of 
slaves,  or  the  most  abandoned  of  mis- 
creants ;  by  a  punishment,  too  inhuman 
indeed  to  find  place  in  the  Jewish  code, 
but  the  nearest  approach  to  which,  the 
hanging  up  the  dead  bodies  of  crimi- 
nals, was  held  so  infamous  and  execra- 
ble, that  the  fearful  })hrase,  "  accursed 
by  God,"  was  applied  to  all  thus  sen- 
tenced and  used  i  We  speak  of  nothing 
but  the  shame  of  the  cross ;  for  it  was 
the  shame  which  gave  display  to  humi- 
lity. And  we  are  bold  to  say,  that,  after 
the  condescension  of  God  in  becoming 
man,  after  the  condescension  of  the 
God-man  in  consenting  to  die,  there 
was  an  act  of  condescension,  scarce  in- 
ferior to  the  others,  in  that  the  death 
was  "  the  death  of  the  cross.  "  He  who 
humbled  himself  in  dying  at  all,  hum- 
bled himself  unspeakably  more  in  dying 
as  a  malefactor.  It  would  have  hoen 
humility  had  he  who  was  exempt  from 
the  necessity  of  our  nature  consented 
to  fall,  as  heroes  fall,  amid  the  tears  of 
a  grateful  pef»})le,  and  the  ap})lauses  of 
an  admiring  world.  It  would  have  been 
humility  had  he  breathed  out  his  soul 
on  the  regal  couch,  and  far-spreading 
tribes  had  felt  themselves  orphaned. 
But  to  be  suspended  as  a  spectacle  be- 
tween heaven  and  earth;  to  die  a  lin- 
gering death,  exposed  to  the  tauntings 
and  revilings  of  a  profligate  multitude, 
"  all  they  that  see  me  laugh  me  to  scora ; 
they  shoot  out  the  lip,  they  shake  the 
head ;"  Psalm  22  :  7  ;  to  be  "  numbered 
7 


60 


THE  HUMILIATION  OF  THE  MAX  CHRIST  JESUS. 


widi  the  transi^-essors,"  Isaiah,  53  :  12, 
and  expire  amid  the  derision  and  de- 
spite of  his  own  kinsmen  after  tlie  flesh  ; 
if  the  other  were  humihty,  how  shall 
we  describe  this?  Yet  to  this,  even. to 
this,  <lid  the  Mediator  condescend.  "  He 
endured,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  the  cross, 
despising  the  shame."  Hebrews,  12  :  2. 
He  felt  the  shame;  otherwise  there 
was  nothing  memorable  in  liis  bringing 
himself  to  despise  it.  He  despised  it, 
not  as  fetling  it  no  evil,  but  as  making 
it  of  no  account  when  set  against  the 
glorious  results  which  its  endurance 
would  effect.  For  it  was  not  only  ne- 
cessary that  he  should  die,  it  was  also 
necessary  that  he  should  die  ignomini- 
ously.  He  must  die  as  n.  criminal ;  we 
wish  you  to  observe  that.  He  was  to 
die  as  man's  substitute ;  and  man  was 
a  criminal,  yea,  the  very  basest.  So 
that  death  by  public  sentence,  death  as 
a  malefactor,  may  be  said  to  have  been 
required  from  a  surety  who  stood  in 
the  place  of  traitors,  with  all  their  trea- 
son on  his  shoulders.  The  shame  of  the 
cro.;s  was  not  gratuitous.  It  was  not 
enough  that  the  substitute  humbled 
himself  to  death  ;  he  must  humble  him- 
self to  a  shameful  death.  And  Clirist 
Jesus  did  this.  He  could  say,  in  the  pa- 
thetic words  of  prophecy,  "  I  hid  not 
my  face  from  shame  and  spitting."  Isa. 
50  :  6.  And  shall  we  doubt,  that,  man 
as  he  was,  keenly  alive  to  unmerited 
disgrace,  the  indignities  of  his  death 
added  loathsomeness  to  the  cu})  which 
he  had  undertaken  to  drink ;  and  shall 
we  not  then  confess  that  tliere  was  an 
humiliation  in  the  mode  of  dying,  over 
and  above  that  of  taking  flesh,  and  that 
of  permitting  himself  to  be  mortal — 
so  that  the  apostle's  words  are  vindi- 
cated in  their  every  letter,  "being  found 
in  fashion  as  a  man,  he  hunibled  himself, 
and  became  obedient  unto  dcatli,  even 
the  d(!ath  of  tlic  cross  1 " 

\Vc  can  only,  in  conclusion,  pi-ess  on 
you  the  (exhortation  of  St.  Paul :  "  Let 
this  miTid  be  in  you  which  was  also  in 
Christ  Jesus."  He  died  to  make  atone- 
ment, but  he  died  also  to  set  a  pattern. 
Shall  selfishness  find  pativnis  amongst 
you  when  you  have  tjfazcd  on  this  exam- 
ple of  disinterestedness  1  Shall  pride 
be  harbored  after  you  have  seen  Deity 


humbling  himself,    and   then,  as    man, 
abasing  himself,  till  there  was  no  lower 
point  to  which  he  could  descend  1  And 
all  this  for  us;    for  you,  lor  me;     for 
the  vile,  for  the  reprobate,  for  the  }o«t ! 
And  what  return  do  we  make  1     Alas  ! 
for  the  neglect,  the  contempt,  the  cold- 
ness, the  formality,  which  he  who  hum- 
bled himself,  and  agonized,  and  died  the 
death  of  shame  on  our  behalf,  receives 
at  our  hands,  Which  of  us  is  faithfully 
taking  pattern  1  Which  of  us,  I  do  not 
say,   has    mastered   and    ejected  pride, 
but  is  setting  himself  in  good   earnest, 
and  with  all  the  energy  which  might  be 
brought   to  the  work,  to   the  wrestling 
with  pride  and    sweeping  it  from  tlio 
breast  r would  to   God    that  this    pas- 
sion-season may  leave  us  more  humble, 
more    self-denying,   more    disposed    to 
bear  one  aiiother's  burdens,  than  it  finds 
us.     AVould  to  God  that  it  may  write, 
moi-e  deeply  than  ever  on   our  hearts, 
the  doctrine  which  is  the  alone  engine 
against  the    haughtiness  and  self-sufll- 
ciency  of  the  fallen,  that  the  Mediator 
between  earth   aud  heaven  was    "  ])er- 
fect  God  and  perfect  man."*     There 
must  be  Deity  in  the  rock  which  could 
bear  up  a  foundered  world.     May  none 
of  you  forget  this.     The  young  amongst 
you  more  especially,  keep  ye  this  dili- 
gently in  mind.  I  have  lived  much  amid 
the  choicest  assemblies   of  the   literaiy 
youth  of  our  land,  and  I  know  full  well 
how  commonly  the  pride  of  talent,  or 
the   appetite   for  novelty,  or  the  desire 
to  be   singular,  or  the    aversion    irom 
what    is    holy,  will    cause  an  unstable 
mind  to  yield  itself  to  the  specious  so- 
phistry, or  the  licentious  efi'rontcry,  of 
sceptical  writings.     I    pray    God    that 
none  of  you  be  drawn  within  the  ed- 
dies   of    that    whirlpool    of   infidelity, 
which    rends    into    a  thousand    shivers 
the  noble -t  bai-ks,  freighted  with  a  rich 
lading  of  intellect  and  learning.     ]5e  yo 
watchful  alike    against  the    dogn'as  of 
an  indolent  reasoning,  and    the    syreii 
strains  of  a  voluptuous  jxtetry,  and  the 
fiendlike  sneers  of  rejjrobate  men,  and 
the  polished  cavils  of  fashionable  con- 
tempt.    Let   none  of  these  seduce   or 
scare   you   fiom   the    siniplicily  of  the 
faith,    and  brefitlie  bliglitingly  on   your 
allegiance,    and  shrivel    you    into    that 


*  Atliaiiasian  Creed 


TIIK  nOCTRINE   OF  THE  RESURRECTION. 


51 


withered  and  sapless  thing,  the  disciple 
of  a  creed  which  owns  not  divinity  in 
Christ.  If  I  durst  choose  between 
poison-cups,  I  would  take  Deism  lather 
tlian  Socinianism.  It  seems  better  to 
reject  as  forgery,  than,  having  received 
as  truth,  to  drain  of  meaning,  to  use, 
without  reserve,  the  sponge  and  the 
thumb-screw;  the  one,  when  passages 
arc  too  plain  for  controversy,  the  other 
when  against  us,  till  unmercifully  tor- 
tured. JNIay  you  all  sec  that,  unless  a 
Mediator,  more  than  human,  had  stood 
in  the  gap  to  stay  the  plague,  the  penal- 


ties of  a  broken  law,  unsatisfied  through 
eternity,  must  have  entered  like  fiei-y 
aiTOws,  and  scatlied  and  maddened  each 
descendant  of  Adam.  May  you  all  learn 
to  use  the  doctrine  of  the  atonement 
as  the  basis  of  hope,  and  the  motive  to 
holiness.  Thus  shall  this  passion-season 
be  a  new  starting-point  to  all  of  us ;  to 
those  who  have  never  entered  on  a  hea- 
venward course ;  to  those  who  have 
entered,  and  then  loitered ;  so  that 
none,  at  last,  may  occupy  the  strange 
and  fearful  position  of  men  for  whom 
a  Savior  died,  but  died  in  vain. 


SERMON  V. 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  RESURRECTION  VIEWED  IN  CONNEC- 
TION  WITH  THAT  OF  THE  SOUL'S  IMMORTALITY. 


"  Jesus  said  unto  her,  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life." — Jonx,  xL  25. 


There  is  perhaps  no  narrative  in  the 
New  Testament  more  deeply  interest- 
ing than  that  of  the  raising  of  Lazarus. 
It  was  nearly  the  last  miracle  which 
Jesus  performed  while  sojourning  on 
earth ;  and,  as  though  intended  for  a 
gi'eat  seal  of  his  mission,  you  find  the 
Savior  preparing  himself,  with  extraor- 
dinary care,  for  this  exhibition  of  his 
power.  He  bad  indeed  on  two  other 
occasions  raised  the  dead.  The  daugh- 
ter of  Jairus,  and  the  widow's  son  of 
Nain,  had  both,  at  his  bidding,  been  re- 
stored to  life.  But  you  will  remember, 
tliat,  with  regard  to  the  former,  Christ 
had  used  the  expression,  "  the  damsel 
is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth  :  "  Mark,  5  :  39  : 
and  that,  probably,  the  latter  had  been 
only  a  short  time  deceased  when  car- 
ried out  for  burial.  Hence,  in  neither 
case,  was  the  evidence  that  death  had 
taken  ]>lace,  and  that  the  party  was  not 


in  a  trance,  so  clear  and  decisive  that 
no  room  was  left  for  the  cavils  of  the 
sceptic.  And  accordingly  there  is 
gi'ound  of  doubt  whetlier  the  ajjostles 
themselves  were  thoroughly  convinced 
of  Christ's  power  over  death  ;  whether, 
that  is,  they  believed  him  able  to  re- 
cover life  when  once  totally  and  truly 
extinguished.  At  least,  you  will  observe, 
that,  when  told  that  Lazarus  was  actu- 
ally dead,  they  were  filled  with  sorrow ; 
and  that,  when  Christ  said  that  he  would 
go  and  awaken  him  froin  sleep,  they  re- 
solved indeed  to  accompany  their  Mas- 
ter, but  expected  rather  to  be  them- 
selves stoned  by  the  Jews,  than  to  see 
their  friend  brought  back  from  the 
sepulchre. 

We  may  suppose,  therefore,  flint  it 
was  with  the  design  of  furnishing  an 
irresistible  demonstration  of  his  power, 
that,  after  hearing  of  the  illness  of  La- 


52 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  RESURRECTION. 


zarus,  Jesus  tarried  two  days  in  the 
place  wlicre  the  mcssajro  liad  I'ound  liiin. 
He  loved  Lazarus,  and  Martha  and  Mary 
his  sistexs.  It  must  then  have  been  the 
dictate  of  aft'ection  that  he  should  hast- 
en to  the  distressed  family  as  soon  as 
inf(»rmcd  of  their  affliction.  But  had  he 
reached  Bethany  before  Lazarus  expir- 
ed, or  soon  after  the  catastrophe  had 
occurred,  we  may  readily  see  that  the 
same  objection  might  liave  been  urged 
against  the  miracle  of  restoration,  as  in 
the  other  instances  in  which  the  grave 
liad  been  deprived  of  its  pi'oy.  There 
would  n(tt  have  been  incontrovertible 
proof  of  actual  death;  and  neither, 
therefore,  would  there  have  been  in- 
controvertible ])roof  that  Jesus  was 
"  the  prince  of  life."  Acts,  3:  15.  But, 
by  so  delaying  his  journey  that  he  ar- 
rived not  at  Bethany  until  Lazarus  had 
been  four  days  dead,  Clu-ist  cut  off  all 
occasion  of  cavil,  and,  rendering  it  un- 
deniable that  the  soul  had  been  sepa- 
rated from  the  body,  rendered  it  equally 
undeniable,  when  he  had  wrought  the 
miracle,  that  he  possessed  the  power 
of  re-uniting  the  two. 

As  Jesus  approached  Bethany,  he  was 
met  by  Martha,  who  seems  to  have  en- 
tertained some  indistinct  apprehension 
that  his  prevalence  with  (lod,  if  not  his 
own  might,  rendered  possil>le,  even  then, 
the  restoration  of  her  brother.  "I  know 
that,  even  now,  whatsoever  thou  wilt 
a-!k  of  God,  God  will  give  it  thee." 
This  drew  from  Jesus  the  saying,  "  thy 
brother  shall  rise  again."  The  resur- 
rection of  the  body  was,  at  this  time, 
an  article  of  the  national  creed,  being 
confessed  by  the  great  mass  of  the  Jews, 
though  denied  by  the  Sadducees.  Hence 
Martha  had  no  diHiciilly  in  assenting  to 
what  Jesus  declared  ;  though  she  plain- 
ly implied  that  she  both  wished  and 
hoj)ed  something  more  on  belialf  of  her 
brother.  "  I  know  that  he  shall  rise 
atrJiin  in  the  resurrection,  at  the  last 
day."  And  now  it  was,  that,  in  order  to 
obtiin  a  precise  declaration  of  faith  in 
his  pow(;r,  Jesus  addressed  Miirtha  in 
tlie  words  of  our  text,  woi'ds  of  an  ex- 
traordinary beauty  and  solemnity,  put 
by  the  Church  into  the  mouth  of  the 
minister,  as  he  meets  the  sorrowing 
band  who  bear  a  brother,  or  a  sister,  to 
the  long  home  nppointed  for  our  race. 
Jesus  said  unto  lu^r.  •'  I  am  the  resur- 
rtjctlon  aiwl  the  liie."     Martha  had  ex- 


I  pressed  frankly  her  belief  in  a  general 
resurrection  ;  but  she  seemed  not  to  as- 
sociate this  resurrection  with  Jesus  as 
a  cause  and  an  agent.  The  Redeemer, 
therefore,  gathers,  as  it  were,  the  gene- 
ral resurrecticm  into  Himself;  and,  as 
though  asserting  that  all  men  shall  in- 
deed rise,  but  oidy  through  mysterious 
union  with  himself,  he  declares,  not 
that  he  will  efl'ect  the  resurrection,  sum- 
moning by  his  voice  the  tenantry  from 
the  sepulchres,  but  that  he  is  Himself 
that  resurrection  :  "  1  am  the  resuirec- 
tion  and  the  life." 

Now  it  were  beside  our  purpose  to 
follow  furtluM-  the  narrative  of  the  rais- 
ing of  Lazarus.  We  have  shown  you 
how  the  words  of  our  text  are  intro- 
du(-ed,  and  we  shall  find  that,  when  de- 
tached from  the  context,  they  funiish 
material  of  thought  amply  sufficient 
for  a  single  discourse. 

It  seems  to  us,  that,  in  claiming  such 
titles  as  those  which  are  to  come  im- 
der  review,  Christ  declared  himself  the 
cause  and  the  origin  of  the  immortality 
of  our  bodies  and  souls.  In  announcing 
himself  as  "  the  resurrection,"  he  must 
be  considered  as  stating  that  he  alone 
effects  thc!  wondrous  result  of  the  coi*- 
ruj)tible  putting  on  incorruption.  In 
announcing  himself  as  "  the  life,"  ho 
equally  states  that  he  endows  the  spirit 
with  its  hajipiness,  yea,  i-ather  with  its 
existence  throuu:h  eternity.  If  Christ 
had  only  termed  himself  "  the  resurrec- 
tion," we  might  have  considered  him 
as  refeiTing  merely  to  the  body — as- 
serting it  to  Ix)  a  consequence  on  his 
work  of  mediation  that  the  dust  of  ages 
shall  agiiin  quicken  into  life.  But  when 
He  terms  himself  also  "  the  life,"  we 
cannot  but  suppose  a  reference  to  tho 
immortality  of  the  soul,  so  that  this 
noble  and  sublime  fact  is,  in  some  way, 
associatful  with  the  achievements  of 
redemption. 

We  are  accustomed,  indeed,  to  think 
that  the  immortality  of  the  soul  is  in- 
de()endent  on  the  atonement :  so  that, 
although  had  there  been  no  redemption 
there  would  have  been  no  resurrection, 
the  principle  within  us  wcmld  have  re- 
miiincd  uncpxenched,  subsisting  for  ever, 
and  for  ever  ac<*essible  to  pain  and  pen- 
alty. We  shall  not  pause  to  examino 
the  justice  or  injustice  of  the  opinion. 
M^e  shall  only  remark  that  tho  exist- 
ence of  the  soul  is,  undoubtedly,  as  de- 


THE  DOCTRINE  OP  THE  RESURRECTION. 


53 


pendent  upon  God  as  that  of  the  body  ; 
that  no  spirit,  except  Deity  himself,  can 
be  necessarily,  ancl  inherently,  immor- 
tal ;  and  that,  if  it  should  please  the 
Almig^lity  to  put  an  arrest  on  those  mo- 
mentary outf^oings  of  life  which  ilow 
from  himself,  and  permeate  the  uni- 
verse, he  would  instantly  once  more  be 
alone  in  infinity,  and  one  vast  bankrupt- 
cy of  being  overspread  all  the  provin- 
ces of  creation.  There  seems  no  rea- 
son, if  we  may  thus  speak,  in  the  nature 
of  things,  why  the  soul  should  not  die. 
Her  life  is  a  derived  and  dependent 
life;  and  that  which  is  derived  and  de- 
pendent may,  of  course,  cease  to  be, 
at  the  will  of  the  author  and  upholder. 
And  it  is  far  beyond  us  to  ascertain 
what  term  of  being  would  have  been 
assigned  to  the  soul,  had  there  arisen 
no  champion  and  surety  of  the  fallen. 
We  throw  ourselves  into  a  region  of 
speculation,  across  which  there  runs  no 
discernible  pathway,  when  we  inquire 
whether  there  would  have  been  an  an- 
nihilation, supposing  there  had  not  been 
a  redemption  of  nian.  We  can  only 
say,  that  the  soul  has  not,  and  cannot 
have,  any  more  than  the  body,  the 
sources  of  vitality  in  herself.  We  can, 
therefore,  see  the  possibility,  if  not 
prove  the  certainty,  that  it  is  only 
because  "  the  word  was  made  flesh," 
John,  1 :  1 4,  and  struggled  for  us  and 
died,  that  the  human  spirit  is  unquench- 
able, and  that  the  principle,  which  dis- 
tinguishes us  from  the  brutes,  shall  re- 
tain everlastingly  its  strength  and  its 
majesty. 

But  without  travelling  into  specula- 
tive questions,  we  wish  to  take  our  text 
as  a  revelation,  or  announcement,  of 
the  immoitality  of  the  soul ;  and  to  ex- 
amine how,  by  joining  the  terms,  resur- 
rection and  life,  Christ  made  up  what 
was  wanting  in  the  calculations  of  na- 
tui'al  religion,  when  turned  on  deter- 
mining this  grand  article  of  fliith. 

Now  with  this  as  our  chief  object 
of  discourse,  we  shall  endeavor,  in  the 
first  place,  to  show  briefly  the  accuracy 
with  which  Christ  may  be  designated 
"  the  Resurrection."  We  shall  then, 
in  the  second  place,  attempt  to  prove, 
that  the  resurrection  of  the  body  is  a 
great  element  in  the  demonstration  of 
"  the  life,"  the  immortality  of  the  soul. 
We  begin  by  reminding  you  of  a  fact, 
not  easily  overlooked,  that  the  resur- 


rection is,  in  the  very  strictest  sense,  a 
conse(juen(te  on  redemption.  Had  nut 
Christ  undertaken  the  suretyship  of  our 
race,  there  would  never  have  come  a 
time  when  the  dead  shall  be  raised.  If 
there  had  been  no  interposition  on  be- 
half of  the  fallen,  whatever  had  become 
of  the  souls  of  men,  their  bo<lies  must 
have  remained  under  the  tyranny  of 
death.  The  original  curse  was  a  curse 
of  death  on  the  whole  man.  And  it 
cannot  be  argued  that  the  curse  of 
the  body's  death  could  allow,  so  long 
as  unrepealed,  the  body's  resurrection. 
So  that  we  may  lay  it  down  as  an 
undisputed  truth,  that  Christ  Jesus 
achieved  man's  resurrection.  He  was, 
emphatically,  the  Author  of  man's  re- 
surrection. Without  Christ,  and  apart 
from  that  redemption  of  our  nature 
which  he  wrought  out  by  obedicnco 
and  suflering,  there  would  have  been 
no  resurrection.  It  is  just  because  the 
Eternal  Son  took  our  nature  into  union 
with  his  own,  and  endured  therein  the 
curse  provoked  by  disobedience,  that 
a  time  is  yet  to  arrive  when  the  buried 
generations  shall  throw  off  the  dis- 
honors of  corruption. 

But  we  are  ready  to  allow  that  the 
proving  Christ  the  cause,  or  the  author 
of  the  resurrection,  is  not,  in  strict 
truth,  the  proving  him  that  resuirec- 
tion  itself.  There  must  be  some  broad 
sense  in  which  it  holds  good  that  the 
resurrection  of  Christ  was  the  resiuTOC- 
tion  of  all  men ;  otherwise  it  would  be 
hard  to  vindicate  the  thorough  accu- 
racy of  our  text.  And  if  you  call  to 
mind  the  statement  of  St.  Paul,  "  since 
by  man  came  death,  by  man  came  also 
the  resurrection  of  the  dead,"  1  Cor. 
15  :  21,  you  will  perceive  that  the  re- 
surrection came  by  Christ,  in  exactly 
the  same  manner  as  death  had  come  by 
Adam.  Now  we  know  that  death  came 
by  Adam  as  the  representative  of  hu- 
man nature ;  and  we,  there foi-e,  infer 
that  the  resurrection  came  by  Christ 
as  the  representative  of  human  nature. 
Retaining  always  his  divine  personality, 
the  second  person  of  the  Trinity  took 
our  nature  into  union  with  his  own , 
and  in  all  his  obedience,  and  in  all  h«.3 
suffering,  occupied  this  nature  in  the 
character,  and  with  the  properties,  of  a 
head.  When  he  obeyed,  it  was  the  na- 
ture, and  not  a  human  person  which 
obeyed.     When  he  suffered,  it  was  iho 


64 


THE  DOCTUIXE  OF  THE  RESURRECTION. 


nature,  anJ  not  a  human  person  which 
Kuflered.  So  that,  when  he  died,  he 
died  as  our  head ;  and  when  ho  rose, 
he  arose  also  as  our  head.  And  thus — 
kec-jjingup  tlie  alleged  parallel  between 
Adam  and  Christ — as  every  man  dies 
because  concerned  in  the  disobedience 
of  the  one,  so  he  rises  because  included 
in  the  ransom  of  the  other.  Human  na- 
ture having  been  ci'ucificd,  and  buried, 
and  raised  in  Jesus,  all  who  partake  of 
this  nature,  partake  of  it  in  the  state 
into  which  it  has  been  brought  by  a 
Mediator,  a  state  of  rescue  from  the 
po'wer  of  the  grave,  and  not  of  a  con- 
tinuance in  its  dark  dishonors.  The 
nature  had  almost  literally  died  in  Adam< 
and  this  nature  did  as  literally  revive 
in  Christ.  Christ  carried  it  through  all 
its  scenes  of  trial,  and  toil,  and  temp- 
tation, up  to  the  closing  scene  of  an- 
guish and  death ;  and  then  he  went 
down  in  it  to  the  chambers  of  its 
lonely  slumbers;  and  there  he  brake 
into  shivers  the  chain  which  bound  it 
and  kept  it  motionless  ;  and  ho  brought 
it  triumphantly  back,  the  mortal  immor- 
talized, the  decaying  imperishable,  and 
"  I  am  the  Resurrcjction,"  was  then  the 
proclamation  to  a  wondering  universe. 

We  ti-ench  not,  in  the  smallest  de- 
gree, on  the  special  privileges  of  the 
godly,  when  we  assert  that  there  is  a 
link  which  unites  Chiist  with  every  in- 
dividual of  the  vast  family  of  man,  and 
that,  in  virtue  of  this  link,  the  graves 
of  the  earth  shall,  at  the  last  day,  be 
rifled  of  their  tenantry.  The  assertion 
is  that  of  .St.  Paul :  "  Forasnmch  then 
as  the  children  are  partakers  of  flesh 
and  blood,  he  also  himself  likewise  took 
part  of  the  same,  that  through  death 
he  might  destroy .  him  that  had  the 
power  of  death."  Heb.  2  :  14.  So  that 
-the  Redeemer  made  himself  bone  of  our 
bone,  and  flesh  of  our  flesh  ;  and  he 
thus  united  himself  with  every  dweller 
upon  the  globe ;  and,  as  a  consequence 
on  such  union,  that  which  he  wrought 
out  for  his  own  flesh,  he  wrought  out 
for  all  flesh  ;  making,  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  and  liy  one  and  the  same 
net,  his  own  immortal,  and  that  of  all 
immortal.  He  was  then,  literally,  "  the 
Resurrection."  His  resurrection  was 
the  resurrection  of  the  nature,  and  the 
resurrection  of  the  nature  was  the  re- 
surrection of  all  men.  Oh,  it  is  an 
amazing  contemplation,   one  to  which 


even  thought  must  always  fail  to  do 
justice  !  The  first  Adam  just  laid  the 
bliffhtine:  hand  of  disobedience  on  tho 
root  of  human  nature,  and  the  count- 
less millions  of  shoots,  which  Avere  to 
spring  up  and  cover  the  earth,  were 
stricken  with  corruption,  and  could 
grow  only  to  wither  and  decay.  The  se- 
cond Adam  nurtured  the  root  in  righte- 
(jusness,  and  watered  it  with  blood. 
And,  lo  !  a  vivifying  sap  went  up  into 
every,  the  most  distant  branch ;  and 
over  this  sap  death  wields  no  power ; 
for  the  sap  goes  down  with  the  branch 
into  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  and,  at 
CJod's  appointed  time,  shall  quicken  it 
afresh,  and  cause  it  to  arise  indestruc- 
tible through  eternity.  It  would  be 
quite  inconsistent  with  the  resurrection 
of  the  nature — and  this  it  is,  you  ob- 
serve, which  makes  Christ  "  the  Resur- 
rection"— that  any  individual  partak- 
ing that  nature,  should  continue  foi 
ever  cased  up  in  the  sepulchre.  And 
if  there  never  moved  upon  this  earth 
beings  who  gave  eai"  to  the  tidings  ot 
salvation;  if  the  successive  generations 
of  mankind,  without  a  lonely  exception, 
laughed  to  scoria  the  proffers  of  mercy 
and  forgiveness ;  still  this  desperate 
and  unvarying  iiifidelity  would  have  no 
effect  on  the  resurrection  of  the  sjiecies. 
The  bond  of  flesh  is  not  to  be  rent  by 
any  of  the  acts  of  the  most  daring  re- 
bellion. And  ill  virtue  of  this  union, 
sure  as  that  the  Mediator  rose,  sure  as 
that  he  shall  return  and  sit,  in  awful 
pomp,  on  the  judgment-seat,  so  suie 
is  it  that  the  earth  shall  yet  heave 
at  every  pore;  and  tliat,  even  had  it 
received  in  deposit  the  bodies  of  none 
save  the  unrighteous  and  the  infidel,  it 
would  give  up  the  dust  with  a  most 
faithful  accm-acy;  so  that  the  buried 
would  arise,  imperishable  in  bone  and 
sinew  ;  and  the  despisers  of  Christ,  be- 
ing of  one  flesh  with  him,  must  share 
in  the  resurrection  of  that  flesh,  though, 
not  being  of  one  spirit,  they  shall  have 
no  part  in  its  glorification. 

You  see,  then,  that  Christ  is  more 
than  the  eflicient  cause  of  the  resurrec- 
tion; that  he  is  the  resuiTcction :  "  1 
am  the  RcsuiTection."  And  we  cannot 
quit  this  portion  of  our  subject  without 
again  striving  to  impress  upon  you  the 
augustness  and  sublimity  of  the  ascer- 
tained fact.  The  untold  myriads  of  our 
lineaofe  rose  in  the  resurrection  of  the 


THE    DOCTRIXi:   OF    THK    RKSU'RUl^CTION. 


55 


new  Head  of  our  race.  Never,  oh  iicvrr, 
would  the  sheeted  roh<jue,s  of  inaiikind 
have  walked  forth  from  the  vaults  and 
the  church-yai'ds  ;  never  lVf)Ui  tlie  val- 
ley II nd  the  mountahi  would  there  have 
started  the  millions  who  have  fallen  in 
the  hattle-tuc^;  never  would  tlu^  giant- 
caverns  of  the  unfathomed  ocean  have 
yielded  up  the  multitudes  who  were 
6we])t  from  the  earth  when  its  wicked- 
ness grew  des})erate,  or  whom  strand- 
ed navies  have  hequeathed  to  the  guar- 
dianship of  the  deep  ;  never  would  the 
dislocated  and  decomposed  hody  have 
shaken  oft"  its  dishonors,  and  stood  out 
iu  strength  and  in  symmetry,  hone 
coming  again  to  hone,  and  sinews  bind- 
ing them,  and  skin  covering  them — had 
not  He,  who  so  occupied  the  nature 
that  he  could  act  for  the  race,  descend- 
ed, in  his  prowess  and  his  jiurity,  into 
the  chambers  of  death,  and  scattering 
the  seeds  of  a  new  existence  through- 
out their  far-spreading  ranges,  aban- 
doned them  to  gloom  and  silence  till  a 
fixed  and  on-coming  day ;  appointing 
that  then  the  seeds  should  certainly 
germinate  into  a  rich  harvest  of  undy- 
ing bodies,  and  the  walls  of  the  cham- 
bers, falling  flat  at  the  trumpet-blast  of 
judgment,  disclose  the  swarming  ar- 
mies of  the  buried  marching  onward  to 
die  "  great  white  throne."    Rev.  20  :  11. 

IJut  we  shall  not  dwell  longer  on  the 
flict  that  Christ  Jesus  is  "  the  Resur- 
rection." Our  second  topic  of  dis- 
course ])resents  most  of  diiHculty  ;  and 
we  shall,  therefore,  give  it  the  remain- 
der of  our  time. 

We  wish  to  take  our  text  as  an  an- 
nouncement of  the  immortality  of  the 
Boul,  and  to  examine  how,  by  joining 
the  terms  resuirection  and  life,  Christ 
6up]ilied  what  was  wanting  in  the  cal- 
culations of  natural  religion.  Nov- we 
hold  no  terms  with  those,  who,  thiough 
an  overwrought  zeal  for  the  ho'ior  of 
the  Gospel,  would  deprecate  tlie  strug- 
glings  after  knowledge  which  charac- 
terized the  days  preceding  Christianity. 
There  arose,  at  times,  men,  gifted  above 
their  fellows,  who  threw  themselves 
boldly  into  the  surrounding  darkness, 
and  brought  out  sparklings  of  truth 
which  they  showed  to  a  wondering,  yet 
doubting,  world.  Thus  the  immortali- 
ty of  the  soul  was  certainly  held  by 
Bun(b-y  of  the  ancient  philosoj)hers. 
And  thoucrh  there  miu:ht  be  much  error 


compouTided  with  truth,  and  mucli  fee- 
bleness in  the  notions  entertained  of 
spiritual  subsistence,  it  was  a  great  tri- 
umph on  the  ])art  of  the;  soul,  that  she 
did  at  all  shake  off  the  trammels  of 
llesh,  and,  soaring  uj)wards,  snatch 
something  like  proof  of  her  own  high 
destinies. 

W'e  believe  that  amongst  those  who 
enjoyed  not  the  advantages  of  revela- 
tion there  was  no  suspicion  of  a  resur- 
rection, but  there  was,  at  least,  a  sur- 
mise of  life.  We  say  a  surmise  of  life. 
For  if  you  examine  carefully  t}ie  limit 
to  which  unaided  discovery  might  bo 
pushed,  you  will  find  cause  to  think 
that  a  shrewd  guess,  or  a  brilliant  con- 
jecture, is  the  highest  attainment  of 
natural  religion.  That  mere  matter  can 
never  have  consciousness ;  that  mere 
matter  can  never  feel ;  that,  by  no  con- 
stitution and  adjustment  of  its  atoms, 
can  mere  matter  become  capable  of 
acts  of  understanding  and  reason  ;  we 
can  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that 
these  ai'e  self-evident  truths,  of  which 
no  candid  mind  will  ask  a  demonstra- 
tion. The  mind  is  its  own  witness  that 
it  is  something  more  than  matter.  And 
when  men  have  thus  pi'oved  themselves 
in  pait  immaterial,  they  have  made  a 
long  advance  towards  proving  them- 
selves immortal.  They  have  ascertain- 
ed, at  least,  the  existence  of  a  princi- 
ple, v\'liich,  not  being  matter,  will  not 
necessarily  be  affected  by  the  dissolu- 
tion of  matter.  And  having  once  deter- 
mined that  there  is  a  portion  of  man 
adapted  for  the  soaring  away  from  the 
ruins  of  matter,  let  attention  be  given 
to  the  scrutiny  of  this  portion,  and  it 
will  be  found  so  capable  of  noble  per- 
formances, so  fitted  for  the  contempla- 
tion of  things  spiritual  and  divine,  that 
it  shall  commend  itself  to  the  inquirer 
as  destined  to  the  attainments  of  a  lof- 
tier existence.  So  that  we  arc  certain 
upon  the  point  that  man  might  ])rove 
himself  in  part  immaterial,  and,  there- 
fore, capable  of  existence,  when  sepa- 
rate from  matter.  And  we  are  persuad- 
ed yet  further,  that,  having  shown  him- 
self capable  of  a  future  existence,  he 
might  also  show  himself  capable  of  an 
iimnortal ;  there  being  ample  reason  on 
the  side  of  the  opinion,  that  the  princi- 
ple, which  could  survive  at  all,  might 
go  on  surviving  for  ever. 

Now  this  is  a  brief  outline  of  the  ar 


56 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  RESURRECTION. 


gnment  which  might  bo  pursued  for  the 
Boul's  iinniortahty.  Man  mijj^ht  reason 
up  from  matter  as  insensible  to  himself 
as  sensible.  He  mi'^ht  conclude,  that, 
since  what  is  wholly  material  can  ne- 
ver think,  he  himself,  as  being  able  to 
think,  must  be,  in  part,  immaterial. 
And  the  moment  he  has  made  out  the 
point  of  an  immatci-ial  principle  actu- 
ating mattcM-,  he  may  bring  t(j  bear  a 
vast  assemblage  of  j)roofs,  derived  alike 
from  the  aspirings  of  this  principle  and 
the  attributes  of  God,  all  confirmatory 
of  the  notion,  that  the  immaterial  shall 
survive  when  the  material  has  been 
worn  down  and  sepulchred. 

But  we  think  that  when  a  man  had 
reasoned  up  to  a  capacity  of  immor- 
tality, he  would  have  r(;ached  the  fur- 
thest possible  point.  We  think  that 
natural  religion  could  just  show  him 
that  he  .night  live  for  ever,  but  cer- 
tainly not  that  he  would  live  for  ever. 
He  might  have  been  brought  into  a 
persuasion  that  the  principle  within 
him  was  not  necessarily  subject  to 
death.  Cut  he  could  not  have  assured 
himself  that  God  would  not  consign 
this  principle  to  death.  It  is  one  thing 
to  prove  a  principle  capable  of  immor- 
tality, and  quite  another  to  prove  that 
God  will  allow  it  to  be  immortal.  And 
if  man  had  brought  into  the  account 
the  misdoings  of  his  life ;  if  he  had  re- 
membered how  grievously  he  had  pei*- 
mitted  the  immaterial  to  be  the  slave 
of  the  material,  giving  no  homage  to 
the  ethereal  and  magnificent  principle, 
but  binding  it  basely  down  within  the 
frame-work  of  flesh  ;  why,  we  may  sup- 
pose there  would  have  come  upon  liim 
the  fear,  we  had  almost  said  the  hope, 
that,  by  an  act  of  omnipotence,  God 
would  terminate  the  existence  of  that 
which  might  have  been  everlasting,  and, 
sending  a  canker-worm  into  the  long- 
dishonored  germ,  forbid  the  soul  to 
shoot  upwards  a  plant  of  immortality. 

So  that  we  again  say  that  a  capacity, 
but  not  a  certainty  of  immortality, 
would  be,  probably,  the  highest  discov- 
ery arrived  at  by  natural  religion.  And 
just  here  it  was  that  the  Gospel  came 
in,  and  bringing  man  tidings  from  the 
Father  of  spirits,  informed  him  of  the 
irrevcjcable  appointment  that  the  soul, 
Fi^e  the  Deity  of  which  it  is  the  sjiark, 
shall  go  not  out  and  wax  not  dim.  Re- 
vealed leligion  approached  as  the  aux- 


iliary to  natural,  and,  confirming  all  its 
discoveries  of  man's  capacity  of  im- 
mortality, removed  all  doubts  as  to  his 
destinies  being  evcrkisling.  And  thus 
it  were  fair  to  contend,  that,  up  to  tho 
coming  of  Christ,  man  had  done  no- 
thing more  than  carry  himself  to  tho 
border-line  of  eternity  ;  and  that  there 
he  stood,  a  disembodied  spirit,  full  of 
the  amazing  consciousness,  that,  if  })er- 
mitted  to  spring  into  the  unbounded 
expanse,  he  should  never  be  mastered 
by  the  immensity  of  flight ;  but  ham- 
jiered,  all  tho  while,  by  the  suspicion 
that  there  might  go  out  against  him 
a  decree  of  the  Omnijx)tont,  binding 
down  the  wings  of  the  soul,  and  for- 
bidding this  ex))iation  over  the  for  ever 
and  for  ever  of  Godhead.  So  that  tho 
Gospel,  though  it  taught  n(jt  man  that 
he  might  be,  assuredly  did  teach  him 
that  he  should  be,  immortal.  It  bi'ought 
him  not  the  first  tidings  of  an  immate- 
rial principle,  but,  certainly,  it  first  in- 
formed him  that  nothing  should  inter- 
fe''e  with  the  immaterial  becoming  tho 
eternal. 

Now  you  will  oljscrvc  that  it  has 
been  the  object  of  these  remarks,  to 
prove  that  natural  religion  did  much, 
and  at  the  same  time  left  much  undone, 
in  regard  to  the  disclosures  of  a  future 
state  to  man.  We  have  striven,  there- 
foi-e,  to  show  you  a  point  up  to  which 
discovery  might  be  pushed  without  aid 
from  i-evelation,  but  at  which,  if  not 
thus  assisted,  it  must  come  necessarily 
to  a  stand.  And  now,  if  you  would 
bring  these  statements  into  connection 
with  our  text,  we  may  again  say  that 
natural  religion  had  a  surmise  of  life, 
but  no  suspicion  of  a  resurrection;  that 
if  Christ  liad  only  said  "  I  am  the  life," 
he  would  hnvo  loft  in  darkness  and  per- 
plexity the  question  of  the  soul's  im- 
rnortahty  ;  but  that  by  combining  two 
titles,  by  calling  himself  "  the  resur- 
rection and  the  life,"  he  removed  tho 
difficulties  from  that  question,  and 
brought  to  light  the  immortality.  Wo 
wish  you  to  be  clear  on  this  great  point 
We  shall,  therefore,  examine  how  na- 
tural religion  came  to  l>e  deficient,  and 
how  the  statement  of  our  text  supplied 
what  was  wanting. 

Now  we  see  no  better  method  of  pro- 
secuting this  inquiry,  than  the  putting 
one's  self  into  the  position  of  a  man 
who  has  no  guidance  but  that  of  natu- 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE   UF.SURRECTION. 


57 


ral  relii^ion.  If  there  li.ad  never  shone 
on  me  the  bciims  of  the  Gosjiel,  ;in<l  if 
I  could  only  <r;itlier  my  arguments  from 
what  I  felt  within  myself,  and  from  wlint 
I  saw  occurring  around  me,  I  might  ad- 
vance, step  by  steji,  through  some  such 
process  as  the  following.  I  am  not 
wholly  a  material  thing.  [  can  perceive, 
and  j-eason,  and  remember.  I  am  con- 
scious to  myself  of  powers  which  it  is 
impossible  that  mere  matter,  however 
wrought  up  or  moulded,  could  possess 
or  exercise.  There  must,  thcni,  be  with- 
in me  an  immaterial  princij^le,  a  some- 
thing which  is  not  matter,  a  soul,  an 
invisible,  mysterious,  jiowerful,  pervad- 
ing thing.  And  this  soul,  I  feel  that  it 
struggles  after  immortality.  I  feel  that 
it  urges  me  to  the  practice  of  virtue, 
however  painful,  and  that  it  warns  me 
against  the  pursuit  of  vice,  however 
pleasant.  I  feel  that  it  acts  upon  me  by 
motives,  derived  from  the  properties  of 
a  God,  but  which  lose  all  their  point 
and  power,  unless  I  am  hereafter  to  be 
judged  and  dealt  with  according  to  my 
actions.  And  if  natural  religion  have 
thus  enabled  me,  at  the  least,  to  conjec- 
ture that  there  shall  come  a  judgment, 
and  a  state  of  retribution,  what  is  it 
which  puts  an  aiTest  on  my  searchings, 
and  forbids  my  going  onward  to  cer- 
tainty? We  reply  without  hesitation, 
death.  Natural  religion  cannot  overleap 
the  grave.  It  is  just  the  fact  of  the 
body's  dissolution,  of  the  taking  down 
of  this  fleshly  tabernacle,  of  the  resolu- 
tion of  bone,  and  flesh,  and  sinew  into 
dust — it  is  just  this  fact  which  shakes  all 
my  calculations  of  a  judgment,  and 
throws  a  darkness,  not  to  be  penetrated, 
round  '*  life  and  immortality."  2  Tim. 
1  :  10.  And  why  so  1  Why,  after  show- 
ing that  I  am  immaterial — why,  after 
proving  that  a  part  of  myself  spurus 
from  it  decay,  and  is  not  necessarily 
affected  by  the  brcaking-up  of  the  body 
— why  should  death  interfere  with  my 
conviction  of  the  certainties  of  judg- 
ment and  retribution  ]  We  hold  the 
reason  to  be  simple  and  easily  defined. 
If  thei'e  shall  come  a  judgment,  of 
course  the  beings  judged  must  be  the 
very  beings  who  have  lived  on  this 
earth.  If  there  sliall  come  a  retribution, 
of  course  the  beings  rewarded  or  pun- 
ished must  be  the  very  beings  who  have 
been  virtuous  or  vicioiis  in  this  present 
existence.     There  can  be  nothing  clear- 


er than  that  the  individuals  judged,  and 
the  individuals  recompensed,  nuist  bo 
the  very  individuals  who  have  here 
moved  and  acted,  the  sons  aiid  the 
daughtci's  of  humanity.  But  liow  can 
they  be  ]  The  soul  is  not  the  man. 
There  must  be  llic  material,  as  well  as 
the  immaterial,  to  make  up  man.  The 
vicious  person  cannot  be  the  sufllerino- 
person,  and  the  virtuous  person  cannot 
be  the  exalted  person,  and  neither  can 
be  the  tried  j)erson,  unless  body  and 
soul  stand  together  at  the  tiibunal, 
constituting  hereafter  the  very  person 
which  they  constitute  here.  And  if  na- 
tural religion  know  nothing  of  a  resur- 
rection— and  it  does  know  nothing,  the 
resurrection  being  purely  an  article  of 
revelation — we  hold  that  natural  reli- 
gion must  here  be  thrown  out  of  all 
her  calculations,  and  that  confusion  and 
doubt  will  be  the  result  of  her  best 
searchings  after  truth. 

I  see  that  if  there  be  a  judgment 
hereafter,  the  individuals  judged  must 
be  the  very  individuals  who  have  obey- 
ed here,  or  disobeyed  here.  But  if  the 
material  part  be  dissolved,  and  there  re- 
main nothing  but  the  immaterial,  they 
ai-e  not,  and  they  cannot  be,  the  very 
same  individuals.  The  soul,  we  again 
say,  is  not  the  man.  And  if  the  soul,  bv 
itself,  stand  in  judgment,  it  is  not  the 
man  who  stands  in  judgment.  And  if 
the  man  stand  not  in  judgment,  there 
is  no  putting  of  the  obedient,  or  the 
ofl'ending  being  upon  trial.  So  that 
there  is  at  once  an  overthrow  of  the 
reasoning  by  which  I  had  sustained 
the  expectation,  that  the  future  comes 
charged  with  the  actings  of  a  mighty 
jurisdiction.  I  cannot  master  the  mys- 
teries of  the  sepulchre.  I  may  have 
sat  down  in  one  of  the  solitudes  of  na- 
ture ;  and  I  may  have  gazed  on  a  fir- 
mament and  a  landscape  which  seemed 
to  burn  with  divinity;  and  I  may  huve 
heard  the  whisperings  of  a  more  than 
human  voice,  telling  me  that  I  am  des- 
tined for  companionship  with  the  bright 
tenantry  of  a  far  lovelier  scene  ;  and  I 
may  then  have  pondered  ai  myself 
there  may  have  throbbed  within  me  the 
pulses  of  eternity  ;  I  may  have  felt  the 
soai'ings  of  the  immaterial,  and  I  may 
have  risen  thrilling  with  the  thought 
that  I  should  yet  find  myself  the  im- 
mortal. But  if,  when  I  went  fbith  to 
mix.  again  with  my  fellows — the  splen- 
8 


53 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  RESURRECTION. 


did  thought  still  crowding  every  cliam- 
ber  of  the  spirit — I  met  the  spectacle 
of  the  dead  lx)r!ic  along  to  their  burial ; 
why,  this  demonstration  of  luiman  mor- 
tality would  be  as  a  thunder-cloud 
passing  over  my  brilliant  contempla- 
tions; and  1  should  not  know  how  to 
believe  myself  reserved  for  endless  al- 
lotments, when  I  saw  one  of  my  own 
lineage  coffined  and  scpulclu-cd.  How 
can  this  buried  man  be  judged?  How 
can  he  be  put  upon  trial  i  His  soul  may 
be  judged,  his  soul  may  be  put  upon 
trial.  But  the  soul  is  not  himself  And 
if  it  be  not  himself  who  is  judged,  judg- 
ment proceeds  not  according  to  the  ri- 
gors of  justice,  and,  therefore,  not  ac- 
cording to  the  attributes  of  Deity. 

And  thus  tlie  grand  reason  why  na- 
tural religion  cannot  fully  demonstrate 
a  iiidgment  to  come,  and  a  state  of  re- 
tribution, seems  to  be  that  it  cannot 
demonstrate,  nay  rather,  that  it  cannot 
even  suspect,  the  resurrection  of  the 
body.  The  great  difficulty,  whilst  man 
is  left  to  discover  for  himself,  is  how 
to  bring  upon  the  platform  of  the  fu- 
ture the  identical  beings  who  are  shat- 
tered by  death.  So  that  unless  you 
introduce  "  the  resurrection,"  you  will 
not  make  intelligible  "  the  life."  The 
Khowing  that  the  body  will  rise  is  in- 
dispensable to  the  showing,  not  indeed 
that  the  soul  is  capable  of  immortality, 
but  that  her  immortality  can  consist, 
as  it  must  consist,  with  judgment  and 
retribution.  We  contend,  therefore, 
that  the  great  clcaring-up  of  the  soul's 
immortality  was  Clirist's  combining  the 
titles  of  our  text,  "  I  am  the  resurrec- 
tion and  the  life."  Let  man  be  assured 
that  his  body  shall  rise,  and  there  is  an 
end  to  those  difficulties  which  throng 
ai'ound  him  when  observing  that  his 
body  must  die.  Thus  it  was  "  the  re- 
surrection "  which  turned  a  flood  of 
brightness  on  "  the  life."  The  main 
thing  wanted,  in  order  that  men  might 
be  assured  of  immortality,  was  a  grap- 
pling with  death.  It  was  the  showing 
that  there  should  be  no  lasting  separa- 
tion between  soul  and  body.  It  was  the 
exhibiting  the  sepulchres  emptied  of 
their  vast  po])ulalion,  and  giving  up  the 
dust  remoulded  into  human  shajie.  And 
this  it  was  which  the  Mediator;  ettccted, 
not  so  much  by  announcement  as  by 
action,  not  so  much  by  preaching  re- 
surrection and  life,  as  by  being   "  the 


resun-ection  and  the  life."  He  went 
down  to  the  grave  in  the  weakness  of 
humanity,  but,  at  the  ;arae  time,  in  tlie 
might  of  Deity.  And,  designing  .«> 
pour  forth  a  torrent  of  lustre  on  the 
life,  the  everlasting  life  of  man,  oh,  he 
did  not  bid  the  firmament  cleave  asun- 
der, and  the  constellations  of  eternity 
shine  out  in  their  ma-jcsties,  and  daz- 
zle and  blind  an  overawed  creation. 
He  I'osc  up,  a  moral  giant,  frf)m  his 
gi-ave- clothes  ;  and,  proving  death  van- 
quished in  his  own  stronghold,  left  the 
vacant  sepulchre  as  a  centre  of  light  to 
the  dwellers  on  this  planet.  He  took 
not  the  suns  and  systems  which  crowd 
immensity  in  order  to  form  one  brilliant 
cataract,  which,  rushing  down  in  its 
glories,  might  sweep  away  darkness 
from  the  benighted  race  of  the  apos- 
tate. But  he  came  forth  from  tlic  tomb, 
masterful  and  victorious  ;  and  the  place 
where  he  had  lain  became  the  focus  of 
the  rays  of  the  long-hidden  truth  ;  and 
the  fragments  of  his  grave-stone  were 
the  stai-s  from  which  Hashed  the  im- 
mortality of  man. 

It  was  by  teaching  men  that  they 
should  rise  again,  it  was  by  being  him- 
self "  the  resurrection,"  that  he  taught 
them  they  should  live  the  life  of  im- 
mortality. This  was  bringing  the  miss- 
ing element  into  the  attempted  demon- 
stration ;  for  this  was  proving  that  the 
complete  man  shall  stand  to  be  judged 
at  the  judgment-seat  of  Clod,  And  thus 
it  is,  we  again  say.  that  the  combina 
tion  of  titles  in  our  text  makes  the  pas- 
sage an  intelligible  revelation  of  the 
soul's  immortality.  And  prophets  might 
have  stood  upon  the  carlh,  pi-oclaiming 
to  the  nations  that  every  individual 
carried  within  himself  a  principle  iin- 
pe-rishable  and  unconquerable;  they 
might  have  spoken  of  a  vast  and  so- 
lemn scene  of  assize  ;  and  they  might 
have  conjured  men  by  the  bliss  and  tho 
gloiy,  the  lire  and  the  shame  of  never- 
ending  allotments :  but  dT>ubt  and  un- 
certainty must  have  overcast  the  fu- 
ture, unless  they  couldTiave  bidden 
their  audience  anticipate  a  time  when 
the  whole  globe,  its  mountains,  its  de- 
serts, its  cities,  its  oceans,  shall  seem 
resolved  into  the  elements  of  human- 
kiiul ;  and  millions  of  eyes  look  up  from 
a  million  chasms;  and  long-severed  s])i- 
rits  rush  down  to  the  very  tenements 
which  encased  them  in  the  days  of  pro-, 


Tlin  DOCTRINE  or  Tin;   RKSLRRCCTIO.V. 


59 


oatioi/  ;  iiy,  prophets  would  have  spo- 
ken ill  vaui  of  judgment  und  ininiorlali- 
ty,  niilos.s  they  could  have  tohl  out  tliis 
marvellous  leaping  into  life  of  whatso- 
ever hath  been  man;  and  never  could 
the  cloud  and  the  mist  have  been  rolled 
away  from  the  boundless  hereafter,  had 
there  not  arisen  a  being  who  could  de- 
clare, and  make  good  the  declaration, 
"I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life." 

Now  we  have  been  induced  to  treat 
on  the  inspiring  words  of  our  text  by 
the  consideration  that  death  has,  of  late, 
been  unusually  busy  in  our  metropolis 
and  its  environs,  and  that,  therefore, 
such  a  subject  of  address  seemed  pe- 
culiarly calculated  to  interest  your  feel- 
ings. We  thank  thee,  and  wc  praise 
thee,  O  Lord  our  Redeemer,  that  thou 
hast  "  abolished  death."  2  Timothy,  1  : 
10.  We  laud  and  magnify  thy  glorious 
name,  that  thou  hast  wrestled  with  our 
tyrant  in  the  citadel  of  his  empire ; 
and  that,- if  we  believe  upon  thee,  death 
has,  for  us,  been  spoiled  of  its  power, 
so  that,  "  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting, 
O  grave-,  where  is  thy  victory  V  1  Cor. 
15:  55,  may  burst  from  our  lips  as  we 
expect  the  dissolution  of  "  our  earthly 
house  of  this  tabernacle."  2  Cor.  5  :  1. 
What  is  it  but  sin,  unpardoned  and 
wrath-deserving  sin,  which  gives  death 
its  fearfulness  'i  It  is  not  the  mere  se- 
paration of  soul  from  body,  though  we 
own  this  to  be  awful  and  unnatural, 
worthy  man's  abhorrence,  as  causing 
him,  for  a  while,  to  cease  to  be  man. 
It  is  not  the  reduction  of  this  flesh  into 
original  elements,  earth  to  earth,  fire  to 
fire,  water  to  water,  which  makes  death 
so  terrible,  compelling  the  most  stout- 
hearted to  shrink  back  fi'om  his  ap- 
proaches. It  is  because  death  is  a  con- 
sequence of  sin,  and  this  one  conse- 
quence involves  others  a  thousand-fold 
more  tremendous — a  sea  of  anger,  and 
waves  of  fire,  and  the  desperate  anguish 
of  a  storm-tossed  spirit — it  is  on  this 
account  that  death  is  appalling :  and 
they  who  could  contentedly,  and  even 
cheerfully,  depart  from  a  world  which 
has  mocked  them,  and  deceived  them, 
and  wearied  them,  oh,  they  cannot  face 
a  God  whom  they  have  disobeyed,  and 
neglected,  and  scorned. 

And  if,  then,  there  be  the  taking 
away  of  sin ;  if  iniquity  be  blotted  out 
as  a  cloud,  and  transgression  as  a  thick 
cloud ;  is  not  all  its  bitterness  abstract- 


ed from  death  1  And  if,  yet  fiirlher,  in 
addition  to  the  ])ardon  of  sin,  there 
have  been  im[)arted  to  man  a  "  right 
to  the  tree  of  life,"  Ilev.  22 :  11,  so 
that  there  arc  reserved  for  him  in  hea- 
ven the  splendors  of  immortality;  is 
not  the  terrible  wrenched  away  i'rom 
death  1  But  is  not  sin  pardoned  tlirough 
the  blood-shedding  of  Jesus;  and  is  not 
glory  secured  to  us  through  the  inter- 
cession of  Jesus  1  And  where  then  is 
the  tongue  bold  enough  to  deny,  that 
death  is  virtually  abolished  unto  those 
who  believe  on  "  the  resuiTCction  and 
the  life  ? "  Oh,  the  smile  can  rest  bright- 
ly on  a  dying  man's  cheek,  and  the  words 
of  rapture  can  flow  from  his  lij)s,  and 
his  eye  can  be  on  angel  forms  waiting 
to  take  charge  of  his  spirit,  and  his  ear 
can  catch  the  minstrelsy  of  cherubim  ; 
and  what  are  these  but  trophies — cori' 
querors  of  earth,  and  statesmen,  and  phi- 
losophers, can  ye  match  these  lroj)hies  1 
— of  "the  resurrection  and  the  life?" 

We  look  not,  indeed,  always  for  tri- 
umph .  and  rapture  on  the  death-beds 
of  the  righteous.  We  hold  it  to  be 
wrong  to  exjject,  necessarily,  encou- 
ragement for  ourselves  from  good  men 
in  the  act  of  dissolution.  They  require 
encouragement.  Christ,  when  in  his 
agony,  did  not  strengthen  others  :  he 
needed  an  angel  to  strengthen  himself. 
But  if  there  be  not  ecstasy,  thei-e  is  that 
composedness,  in  departing  believers, 
which  shows  that  "  the  everlasting 
arms,"  Deut.  o3  :  27,  are  under  them  and 
around  them.  It  is  a  beautiful  thing  to 
see  a  christian  die.  The  confession, 
whilst  there  is  strength  to  articulate, 
that  God  is  faithful  to  his  promises; 
the  faint  pressure  of  the  hand,  giving 
the  same  testimony  when  the  tongue 
can  no  longer  do  its  office  ;  the  motion 
of  the  lips,  inducing  you  to  bend  do\\Ti, 
so  that  you  catch  broken  syllables  of 
expressions  such  as  this,  "  come,  Lord 
Jesus,  come  quickly  ; "  these  make  the 
chamber  in  which  the  righteous  die 
one  of  the  most  privileged  scenes  ujion 
earth ;  and  he  who  can  be  jirescnt,  and 
gather  no  assurance  that  death  is  fet- 
tered and  manacled,  even  whilst  grasp- 
ing the  believer,  must  be  either  inacces- 
sible to  moral  evidence,  or  insensible 
to  the  most  heart-touching  appeal. 

One  after  another  is  AvitlHliaA\n  from 
the  church  below,  and  heaven  is  gather- 
ing into  its  capacious  bosom  the  com- 


60 


THE  DOCXniNE  OF  TUG  RESURRECTION. 


pany  of  the  justified.  We  feel  our  loss, 
when  those  whose  experience  quali- 
fied them  to  teach,  and  whose  life  was 
a  fccrinou  to  a  neighborhood,  are  re- 
moved to  the  courts  of  the  church 
above.  Jiut  we  "  sorrow  not,  even  as 
others  which  have  no  hope,"  1  Thess. 
4  :  13,  as  we  mark  the  breachos  which 
death  makes  on  the  right  hand  and 
on  the  left.  Wc  may,  indeed,  think 
that  "  the  righteous  is  taken  away  from 
the  evil  to  coinc,"  Isaiah,  57  :  1,  and 
that  we  ourselves  are  le!l  to  struggle 
through  approaching  days  of  fear  and 
perplex^ity.  Be  it  so.  We  are  not  alone. 
He  who  is  "  the  resurrection  and  the 
life "  leads  us  on  to  the  battle  and  the 
grave,  [t  might  acccnd  better  with  our 
natural  feelings,  that  they  who  have  in- 
structed us  by  example,  and  cheered 
by  exhortation,  should  remain  to  coun- 
sel and  to  animate,  when  the  tide  of 
war  swells  highest,  and  the  voice  of 
blasphemy  is  loudest.  We  feel  that  we 
can  but  ill  spare  the  matured  piety  of 
the  veteran  Christian,  and  the  glowing 
devotion  of  younger  disciples.  Yet  we 
will  say  with  Asa.  when  there  came 
against  him  Zerah  the  Ethiopian,  with 
an  host  of  an  hundred  thousand  and  three 
hundred  chariots,  "  Lord,  it  is  nothing 
with  thee  to  help  whether  with  many, 
or  with  them  that  have  no  power;  help 
us,  O  Lord  our  God,  for  we  rest  on  thee, 
and  in  thy  name  we  go  against  this 
multitude."  2  Chron.  14:  11. 

"  The  resurrection  and  the  life,"  these 
are  thy  magnificent  titles,  Captain  of 
our  salvation  !  And,  therefore,  we  com- 
mit to  thcc  body  and  soul ;  for  thou 
hast  redeemed  both,  and  thou  wilt  ad- 
vance both  to  the  noblest  and  most 
splendid  of  portions.  Wlio  quails  and 
shrinks,  scared  by  the  despotism  of 
death  (  Who  amongst  you  fears  the 
dishing!  of  those  cold  black  waters 
which  roll  between  us  and  the  promised 
land  ]  Men  and  brethren,  grasp  your 
own  privileges.  Men  and  brethren, 
Christ  Jesus  has  "  abolished  death  :" 
will  ye,  by  your  faithlessness,  throw 
strength  into  the  skeleton,  and  give 
back  empire  to  the  dethroned  and  de- 
stroyed i  Yes,  "  the  resurrection  and 
the  life  "  "  abf)lishcd  death."  Ye  must 
indeed  die,  and  so  far  death  remains 
undestroyed.  But  if  the  terrible  be  de- 
stroyed when  it  can  no  longer  terrify, 
and  if  the  injurious  be  destroyed  when 


1  it  can  no  longer  injure ;  if  the  enemy 
\  be  abolished  when  it  does  the  work  or 
[  a  friend,  and  if  the  tyrant  be  abolished 
j  when  performing  the  offices  of  a  ser- 
vant ;    if    the    repulsive    be    destroyed 
when    we  can  welcome  it,  and  if  tho 
I  odious   be  destroyed  when  we  can  em- 
brace it ;  if  the  quicksand  be  abolished 
I  when  we  can  walk  it  and   sink  not ;  if 
the  fire  be  abolished  when  we  can  pass 
through  it  and  be  scorched  not ;  if  the 
poison  be  abolished  when  we  can  drink 
it  and  be  hurt   not ;   then  is  dt;ath  de- 
stroyed, then  is  death  abolished,  to  all 
who  believe  on  "  the  resurrection  and 
the   life  ;"    and  the  noble  prophecy  is 
fulfilled  (bear  witness,  ye  groups  of  the 
ransomed,    bending   down    from    your 
high  citadel  of  triumph),  "  O  Death,  I 
will  be  thy  plagues ;  O  Grave,  I  will  be 
thy  destruction."  Hosea,  13  :  11. 

"  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven  " — oh, 
for  the  angel's  tongue  that  words  so 
beautiful  might  have  all  their  melodious- 
ness— "  saying  unto  me,  write,  blessed 
are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord 
from  henceforth  :  yea,  saith  the  Spirit, 
that  they  may  rest  from  their  labors, 
and  their  works  do  follow  them."  Rev. 
11  :  13.  It  is  yet  but  a  little  while,  and 
we  shall  be  delivered  from  the  burden 
and  the  conflict,  and,  Avith  all  those  who 
have  preceded~us  in  the  righteous  strug- 
gle, enjoy  the  deep  raptures  of  a  Media- 
tor's presence.  Then,  re-united  to  the 
friends  with  whom  we  took  sweet  coun- 
sel upon  earth,  we  shall  recount  our 
toil  only  to  heighten  our  ecstasy ;  and 
call  to  mind  the  tug  and  the  din  of  war, 
only  that,  with  a  more  bounding  throb, 
and  a  richer  song,  we  may  leel  and 
celebrate  the  wonders  of  redemption. 
And  when  the  morning  of  the  first 
resurrection  breaks  on  this  long-dis- 
ordered and  groaning  creation,  then 
shall  our  text  be  understood  in  all  its 
majesty,  and  in  all  its  marvel :  and  then 
shall  the  words,  whose  syllables  iningle 
so  often  with  the  funeral  knell  that  wo 
are  disposed  to  carve  them  on  the  cy- 
press-tree rather  than  on  the  palm,.  "  I 
am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,"  foi-m 
the  chorus  of  that  noble  anthem,  which 
those  for  wliom  Clirist  "died  and  rose 
and  revived,"  Rom.  1  I  :  0,  shall  chant 
as  they  march  from  judgment  to  glory. 

We  add  nothing  more.  We  show  you 
the  privileges  of  the  rightcious.  \Ve 
toll   you,    that  if  you   would   die   thai. 


THE   rOWKR  or   WICKEONKSS. 


61 


death,  you  must  live  their  life.  And, 
conjuring  you,  by  the  memory  of  those 
who  have  gone  hence  in  the  faith  of 
the  Redeemer,  that  ye  "  run  witli  pa- 
tience the  race  set  before  you,"  Ilel). 
12  :  1,  we  send  you  to  your  homes  with 
the    comforting:    words    which   succeed 


our  text,  "  he  that  belicvetli  on  mo, 
though  li(!  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live ; 
and  whosoever  liveth  and  bclieveth 
in  mo  shall  never  die  ;  believest  thou 
this  1  "  God  forbid  there  shouhl  be  one 
of  you  refusing  to  answer  with  Martha, 
"  yea,  Lord,  yea." 


SERMON  VI. 


THE    POWER  OF  WICKEDNESS  AND  RIGHTEOUSNESS  TO  RE- 
PRODUCE THEMSELVES. 


For  whatsocvpr  !i  man  sowetli,  that  sliall  he  also  reap." — Gal.  vi.  7. 


You  may  be   all  aware  that  what   is 
termed  the  argument  from  analogy  has 
been  carried    out  to    great   length    by 
thinking   men,    and    that  much    of   the 
strongest    witness    for  Christianity    has 
been  won  on  this  fieVl  of  investigation. 
It  is  altogether  a  most  curious  and  pro- 
fitable inquiry,  which  sets  itself  to  the 
tracing  out    resemblances  between  na- 
tural and    spiritual  things,   and    which 
thus  proposes  to  establish,  at  the  least, 
a    probability    that  creation    and  Chris- 
tianity have  one  and  the  same  author. 
And  we  think  that  we  shall  not  over- 
step the  limits   of  truth,  if  we  declare 
that    nature    wears    the  appearance   of 
having  been  actually  designed   for  the 
illustration  of  the  Bible.  We  believe  that 
he  who,   with  a  devout  mind,  searches 
most   diligently  into   the   beauties   and 
mysteries   of    the  material   world,  will 
fiml  himself  met  constantly  by  exhibi- 
tions, which  seem  to  him  the   pages  of 
Scripttire  written  in  the  stars,  and  the 
forests,  and  the  waters,  of  this  creation. 
There  is  such   a  sameness  of  dealing, 
characteristic    of  the    natural    and   the 
spintual,  that  the  Bible  may  be  read  in 
the  outspread  of  the  landscape,  and  the 
operations  of  agriculture  :   whilst,  con- 
versely, the  laws  obeyed  by  this  earth 


and  its  productions  may  be  traced  as 
pervading  the  appointments  of  revela- 
tion. It  were  beside  our  purpose  to  go 
at  len"-th  into  demonstration  of  this 
coincidence.  But  you  may  all  perceive, 
assuming  its  existence,  that  the  fur- 
nished argument  is  clear  and  convinc- 
iufT.  If  there  run  the  same  principle 
through  natural  and  spiritual  things, 
throufi'h  the  book  of  nature  and  the  Bi- 
ble, we  vindicate  the  same  authorship 
to  both,  and  prove,  with  an  almost  geo- 
metric precision,  that  the  God  of  crea- 
tion is  also  the  God  of  Christianity.  I 
look  on  the  natural  firmament  with  its 
glorious  inlay  of  stars ;  and  it  is  unto 
me  as  the  breastplate  of  the  great  high- 
priest,  "  ardent  with  gems  oracular," 
from  which,  as  from  the  urim  and  thum- 
mim  on  Aaron's  ephod,  come  messa- 
ges full  of  divinity.  And  when  I  turn 
to  the  page  of  Scripture,  and  perceive 
the  nicest  resemblance  between  the 
characters  in  which  this  page  is  writ- 
ten, and  those  which  glitter  before  mo 
on  the  crowded  concave,  I  feel  that,  in 
trusting  myself  to  the  decla;-ations  of 
the  Bible,  I  cling  to  Him  who  speaks 
to  me  fi-om  every  point,  and  by  every 
splendor  of  the  visible  universe,  whose 
voice  is  in  the    marchings  of  planets, 


62 


THK  rn\VF.R   OF  WICKEDNESS. 


and   the,  rushing  of  whose   melodies  is 
in  the  wings  of  the  day-Hght. 

But,  though  we  go  not  into  the  ge- 
neral inquiry,  wc  take  one  great  prin- 
ciple, tlie  principle  of  a  resurrection, 
and  we  affirm,  in  illustration  of  what 
has  been  advanced,  that  it  rurus  alike 
through  God's  natural  and  spiritual 
dealings.  Just  as  God  halh  appointed 
that  man's  hody,  afier  moldering  away, 
shall  come  forth  quickened  and  renew- 
ed, so  h:is  he  oVdained  that  the  seed, 
after  corrupting  in  the  ground,  shall 
yield  a  hai-vcst  of  the  like  kind  witli 
itself  It  is,  moreover,  God's  ordinary 
course  to  allow  an  apparent  destruction 
as  preparatory,  or  introductory  to,  com- 
plete success  or  renovation.  lie  does 
not  permit  the  springing  up,  until  there 
has  been,  on  human  calculation,  a  tho- 
rough withering  away.  So  that  the 
maxim  might  be  shown  to  hold  univer- 
sally good,  "  that  which  thou  sovvest 
is  not  quickened,  except  it  die."  1  Cor. 
15  :  3G.  We  may  observe  yet  further, 
that,  as  with  the  husbandman,  if  he  sow 
the  corn,  ho  shall  reap  the  corn,  and  if 
he  sow  the  weed,  he  shall  reap  the 
weed ;  thus  with  myself  as  a  responsi- 
ble agent,  if  I  sow  the  corruptible,  I 
shall  reap  the  corruptible  ;  and  If  I  sow 
the  Imperishable,  1  shall  reap  the  im- 
perishable. The  seed  reproduces  itself 
This  Is  the  fact  in  reference  to  spiritual 
things,  on  which  we  would  fasten  your 
attention  ;  "  whatsoever  a  man  sovveth, 
that  shall  he  also  reap." 

Now  we  are  all,  to  a  certain  extent, 
familiar  with  this  principle ;  for  it  is 
forced  on  our  notice  by  every-day  oc- 
currences. We  observe  that  a  disso- 
lute and  reckless  youth  is  ordinarily 
followed  by  a  premature  and  miserable 
old  age.  We  see  that  honesty  and  in- 
dustry win  commonly  comfort  and  re- 
spect ;  and  that,  on  the  contrary,  levity 
and  a  want  of  carcl'iilnoss  j)rodLice  pau- 
perism and  disrepute.  And  yet  further, 
unless  we  go  over  to  the  ranks  of  iuH- 
dellty,  we  cannot  question  that  a  course 
of  disol)edieTice  to  God  is  earning  man's 
eternal  destruction;  whilst,  through 
submission  to  the  revealed  will  of  his 
Master,  there  is  secured  admittance 
into  a  glorious  heritage.  We  arc  tlius 
awa,re  that  then;  runs  through  the  Crea- 
tors  dealings  with  our  race  the  prin- 
ciple of  an  identity,  or  sameness,  be- 
tween the  thinirs  which   n)au  sows  and 


those  which  he  reaps.  But  we  thii  k  it 
possible  that  we  may  have  contented 
ourselves  with  too  superficial  a  view  of 
this  principle ;  and  that,  through  not 
searching  into  what  may  be  termed  it3 
philosophy,  we  allow  much  that  is  im- 
portant to  elude  obsen'ation.  The  seed 
sown  in  the  earth  goes  on,  as  it  were,  by 
a  sort  of  natural  process,  and  without  di- 
rect intezference  from  God,  to  yield  seed 
of  the  same  description  with  itself  And 
we  wish  it  well  obsen^ed,  whether  there 
be  not  in  spiritual  things  an  analogy  the 
most  perfect  to  what  thus  takes  place 
in  natural.  We  think  that,  upon  a  care- 
ful examination,  you  will  find  ground- 
work of  belief  that  the  simile  holds 
good  in  every  possible  rcsjiect :  so  that 
what  a  man  sows,  if  left  to  its  own  ve- 
getating powers,  will  yield,  naturally, 
a  harvest  of  its  own  kind  and  descrip- 
tion. 

We  shall  study  to  establish  this  point 
in  regard,  first,  to  the  present  scene  of 
probation ;  and,  secondly,  to  the  future 
scene  of  recompense. 

^Ve  begin  with  the  present  scene  ot 
probation,  and  will  put  you  in  j)osses- 
sion  of  the  exact  point  to  be  made  out, 
by  referring  you  to  the  instance  of  Pha- 
raoh. We  know  that  whilst  God  was 
acting  on  the  Egyptians  by  the  awful 
apparatus  of  plague  and  prodigy,  he  is 
oilen  said  to  have  haidcncd  Piiaraoh's 
heart,  so  that  the  monarch  refused  to 
let  Israel  go.  And  it  is  a  great  ques- 
tion to  decide,  whether  God  actually 
interfered  to  strengthen  and  confirm  the 
obstinacy  of  Pharaoh,  or  only  left  the 
king  to  the  workings  of  his  own  heart, 
as  knowing  that  one  degree  of  unbe- 
lief would  generate  another  and  a 
stanchcr.  It  sesms  to  us  at  variance 
with  all  that  is  revealed  of  the  Creator, 
to  suppose  him  urging  on  the  wicked 
in  his  wickedness,  or  bringing  any  en- 
gine to  bear  on  the  ungodly  whicli  shall 
make  them  more  desperate  in  rebellion. 
God  willeth  not  the  death  of  any  sin- 
ner. And  though,  after  long  striving 
with  an  individual,  after  plying  him 
with  the  various  excitements  wlilch  ar6 
best  calculated  to  stir  a  rational,  and 
agitate  an  immortal  being,  he  may  with- 
draw all  the  aids  of  the  Spirit,  and  so 
give  him  over  to  that  worst  of  all  ty- 
rants, himself;  yet  this,  we  contend, 
must  be  the  extreme  thing  ever  done 
by  the    Almiglity  to  man,    the  leaving 


TIIK  POWER  OP  WICKEDNESS. 


63 


him,  but  not  the  constraining  him,  to 
tlu  evil.  And  when,  therefore,  it  is  said 
that  God  hardened  Pharaoh's  heart,  and 
when  the  expression  is  repeated,  so  as 
to  mark  a  continued  and  on-going  liar- 
dening,  we  have  no  other  idea  of  the 
moaning,  than  that  God,  moved  by  the 
:bstinacy  of  Pharaoh,  -withdrew  from 
him,  gradually,  all  the  restraints  of  his 
grace  ;  and  that  as  these  restraints  were 
more  and  more  removed,  the  heart  of 
the  king  was  more  and  more  hai'dened. 
\Vc  look  upon  the  instance  as  a  precise 
illustration  of  the  truth,  that  "  whatso- 
ever a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also 
reap."  Phai'aoh  sowed  obstinacy,  and 
Pharaoh  reaped  obstinacy.  The  seed 
was  put  into  the  soil ;  and  there  was 
no  need,  any  more  than  with  the  grain 
of  corn,  that  God  should  interfere  with 
any  new  power.  Nothing  more  Avas 
required  than  that  the  seed  should  be 
left  to  vegetate,  to  act  out  its  own  na- 
ture. And  though  God,  had  he  pleased, 
might  have  counteracted,  this  nature, 
yet,  when  he  resolved  to  give  up  Pha- 
raoh to  his  unbelief,  he  had  nothing  to 
do  but  to  let  alone  this  nature.  The 
seed  of  infidelity,  which  Pharaoh  had 
sown  when  he  rejected  the  first  miracles, 
was  left  to  itself,  and  to  its  own  vegeta- 
tion. It  sent  up,  accordingly,  a  harvest 
of  its  own  kind,  a  harvest  of  infidelity, 
and  Pharaoh  was  not  to  be  persuaded 
by  any  of  the  subsequent  miracles.  iSo 
that,  when  the  monarch  went  on  from 
one  degree  of  hardness  to  another,  till 
at  length,  advancing  through  the  cold 
ranks  of  the  prostrated  first-born,  he 
pursued,  across  a  blackened  and  devas- 
tated territory,  the  people  for  whose 
emancipation  there  had  been  the  visible 
making  bare  of  the  arm  of  Omnipo- 
tence, he  was  not  an  instance — perish 
the  thought — of  a  man  compelled  by 
his  Maker  to  offend  and  be  lost ;  but 
simply  a  witness  to  the  truth  of  the 
principle,  tliat  "  whatsoever  a  man  sow- 
eth, that  shall  he  also  reap." 

Now  that  which  took  place  in  the 
case  of  this  Egyptian  is,  we  argue,  pre- 
cisely what  occurs  in  regard  generally 
to  the  impenitent.  God  destroys  no 
man.  Every  man  who  is  destroyed 
must  destroy  himself  When  a  man 
stifles  an  admonition  of  conscience,  he 
may  fairly  be  said  to  sow  the  stiflings 
of  conscience.  And  when  conscience 
admonishes  him  the  next  time,  it  will 


bo  more  feebly  and  faintly.  There  will 
be  a  less  diflicidty  in  ov(!rpi>werin!];  the 
admonition.  And  the  fijcbleness  of  re- 
monstrance, and  the  facility  of  resist- 
ance, will  increase  on  every  repetition; 
not  because  God  interferes  to  make  the 
man  callous,  but  because  the  thing  sown 
was  stifling  of  conscience,  and  there- 
fore the  thing  reaped  is  stifling  of  con- 
science. The  Holy  Spirit  strives  with 
every  man.  Conscience  is  but  the  voice 
of  Deity  heard  above  the  din  of  human 
passions.  But  let  conscience  be  resist- 
ed, and  the  Spirit  is  grieved.  Then,  as 
\vith  Pliaraoh,  there  is  an  abstraction 
of  that  influence  by  which  evil  is  kept 
under.  And  thus  there  is  a  less  and 
less  counteraction  to  the  vegetating 
power  of  the  seed,  and,  therefore,  a 
more  and  more  abundant  upspringing 
of  that  which  was  sown.  So  that,  though 
there  must  be  a  direct  and  mighty  in- 
terference of  Deity  for  the  salvation  of  a 
man,  there  is  no  such  interference  for 
his  destruction.  God  must  sow  the 
seed  of  regeneration,  and  enable  man, 
according  to  the  phraseology  of  the 
verse  succeeding  our  text,  to  sow  "  to 
the  Spirit."  But  man  sows  for  himself 
the  seed  of  impenitence,  and  of  himself, 
"  he  soweth  to  his  flesh."  And  what  he 
sows,  he  reaps.  If,  as  he  grows  older, 
he  grow  more  confirmed  in  his  wicked- 
ness ;  if  warnings  come  upon  him  with 
less  and  less  energy;  if  the  solemni- 
ties of  the  judgment  lose  more  and  more 
their  power  of  alarming  him,  and  the 
terrors  of  hell  their  power  of  aflrighting 
him  ;  why,  ^the  man  is  nothing  else  but 
an  exhibition  of  the  thickening  of  the 
harvest  of  which  himself  sowed  the 
seed ;  and  he  puts  forth,  in  this  his  con- 
firmed and  settled  impenitence,  a  de- 
monstration, legible  by  every  careful 
observer,  that  there  needs  no  apparatus 
for  the  turning  a  man  gradually  from 
the  clay  to  the  adamant,  over  and  above 
the  apparatus  of  his  own  heart,  left  to 
itself,  an^l  let  alone  to  harden. 

We  greatly  desire  that  you  should 
rightly  understand  what  the  agency  is 
through  which  the  soul  is  destroyed. 
It  is  not  that  God  hath  sent  out  a  de- 
cree against  a  man.  It  is  not  that  he 
throws  a  darkness  before  his  eyes  which 
cannot  bo  penetrated,  and  a  dullness 
into  his  blood  which  cannot  be  thawed, 
and  a  torpor  into  his  limbs  which  can- 
not be  overcome.     Harvest-time  bring 


64 


THE  POWER  OF  WICKEDNESS. 


ing  .in  abundant  produce  of  what  was 
sowTj  in  tlio  seed-time — this,  we  con- 
tend, is  the  sum-total  of  the  mystery. 
God  interferes  not,  as  it  were,  with  the 
processes  of  nature.  He  opposes  not, 
or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  he  with- 
draws gradually  his  opposition  to,  the 
vegetation  of  the  seed.  And  this  is  all. 
There  is  nothing  more  needed.  You 
resist  a  motion  of  the  Spirit.  Well  then, 
this  facilitates  further  resistance.  He 
who  has  roi^isted  once  will  have  less 
difficulty  in  resisting  the  second  time, 
and  less  than  that  the  third  time,  and 
less  than  that  the  fourth  time.  So  that 
there  comes  a  harvest  of  resistances, 
and  all  from  the  single  grain  of  the  first 
resistance.  You  indulge  yourself  once 
in  a  known  sin.  Why  you  will  be  more 
easily  overpowered  by  the  second  temp- 
tation, and  again  more  easily  by  the 
third,  and  again  more  easily  by  the 
fourth.  And  what  is  this  but  a  harvest 
of  sinful  indulgences,  and  all  from  the 
one  grain  of  the  first  indulgence  ?  You 
omit  some  portion  of  spiritual  exer- 
cises, of  prayer,  or  of  the  study  of  the 
word.  The  omission  will  grow  upon 
you.  You  will  omit  more  to-morrow% 
and  more  the  next  day,  and  still  more 
the  next.  And  thus  there  will  be  a  har- 
vest of  omissions,  and  all  from  the  soli- 
tary grain  of  the  first  omission.  And 
if,  through  the  germinating  ])Ower  of 
that  which  man  sows,  he  proceed  natu- 
rally from  bad  to  worse;  if  resistance 
j)roduce  resistance,  and  indulgence  in- 
dulgence, and  omission  omission  ;  shall 
it  be  denied  that  the  sinner,  throughout 
the  whole  history  of  his  experience, 
throughout  his  |i.rogrcss  across  the 
waste  of  woi'ldliness  and  obduracy  and 
impenitence — passing  on,  as  he  does, 
to  successive  stages  of  indiflferencc  to 
God,  and  fool-hardiness,  and  reckless- 
ness— is  nothing  else  but  the  mower  of 
the  fruits  of  his  own  husbandry,  and 
thus  witnesses,  with  a  power  which  out- 
does all  the  power  of  langtyige,  that 
"  whatsoever  a  maii  sowcth,  that  shall 
he  also  i-eap  1 " 

It  is  in  this  manner  that  we  go  into 
what  we  term  the  philosophy  of  our 
text,  when  applit^l  to  tire  present  scene 
of  probation.  We  take  the  seed  in  the 
soil.  We  show  you  that,  by  a  natural 
process,  without  the  interference  of 
God,  and  simply  through  his  ceasing  to 
counteract  the  tendencies,  there  is  pro- 


duced a  wide  crop  of  the  same  grain  as 
was  sown.  And  thus — all  kinds  of  op- 
position to  God  jnopagating  llicmselvea 
— he  who  becomes  wrought  up  mto  an 
infidel  hardihood,  or  lulled  into  a  se- 
pulchral apathy,  is  nothing  but  the  sow- 
er living  on  to  be  the  reaper,  the  hus- 
bandman in  the  successive  stages  of  an 
agriculture,  wherein  the  ploughing^  and 
the  jdanting,  and  the  gathering,  are  all 
his  o^^'n  achievement  and  all  his  o^vii 
destruction. 

Now  we  have  confined  ourselves  to 
the  supposition  that  the  thing  sown  is 
wickedness.  But  you  will  .^ee  at  once, 
that,  with  a  mere  verbal  alteration, 
whatever  has  been  advanced  illustrates 
our  text  when  the  thing  sown  is  righ- 
teousness. If  a  man  resist  temptation, 
there  will  be  a  fiicility  of  resisting  ever 
augmenting  as  he  goes  on  with  self- 
denial.  Every  new  achievement  of 
princij)lo  will  smooth  the  way  to  future 
achievements  of  the  like  kind;  and  the 
fruit  of  each  moral  victory — for  we  may 
consider  the  victory  as  a  seed  that  is 
sown — is  to  place  us  on  loftier  vantage- 
ground  for  the  triumphs  of  righteous- 
ness in  days  yet  to  come.  We  cannot 
])erforni  a  virtuous  act  without  gaining 
fresh  sinew  for  the  service  of  virtue; 
just  as  we  cannot  perform  a  vicious, 
without  riveting  faster  to  ourselves  the 
fetters  of  vice.  And,  assuredly,  if  there 
be  thus  such  a  growing  strength  in  ha- 
bit that  every  action  makes  way  for  its 
repetition,  we  may  declare  of  virtue 
and  righteousness  that  they  reproduce 
themselves  ;  and  is  not  this  the  same 
thing  as  proving  that  wh'h.t  we  sow,  that 
also  do  ^ve  reap  ? 

We  would  yet  further  remark,  un- 
der this  head  of  discourse,  that  the  jirin- 
ciple  of  reaping  what  we  sow  js  spe- 
cially to  be  traced  through  all  the  work- 
ings of  philanthropy.  We  are  persuaded 
that,  if  an  eminently  charitable  man 
experienced  great  reverse  of  circmn 
stances,  so  that  from  having  beer  the 
affluent  and  the  benefactor  he  befumo 
the  needy  and  de])endent,  he  would  at- 
tract towards  himself  in  his  distress, 
all  the  sympathies  of  a  neighborhood. 
And  whilst  the  great  man,  who  had  had 
nothing  but  his  greatness  to  recom- 
mend liim,  would  be  unpitied  or  un- 
cared-for in  disaster ;  and  the  avari- 
cious man,  who  had  grasped  tightly 
his    wealth,  would    meet  only  ridicule 


THE  POWER  OF  WICKEDNESS. 


65 


when  it  had  escaped  from  his  hold ; 
the  philanthropic  man,  who  had  used 
his  riclies  as  a  steward,  would  form,  in 
his  jienury,  a  sort  of  focus  for  the  kind- 
liness of  a  thousand  hearts  ;  and  multi- 
tudes would  press  forward  to  tender 
him  the  succor  which  he  had  once 
given  to  others  ;  and  thus  there  would 
be  a  mighty  reaping  into  his  own  gra- 
naries of  that  very  seed  which  ho  had 
been  assiduous  in  sowing. 

We  go  on  to  observe  that  it  is  the 
marvellous  property  of  spiritual  things, 
though  we  can  scarcely  affirm  it  of  na- 
tural, that  the  effort  to  teach  them  to 
others,  gives  enlargement  to  our  own 
sphere  of  information.  We  are  per- 
suaded that  the  most  experienced  Chris- 
tian cannot  sit  down  with  the  neglected 
and  grossly  ignorant  laborer — nay,  not 
with  the  child  in  a  Sunday  or  infant- 
school — and  strive  to  explain  and  en- 
force the  gz-eat  truths  of  the  Bible,  with- 
out finding  his  own  views  of  the  Gospel 
amplified  and  cleared  through  this  en- 
gagement in  the  business  of  tuition. 
The  mere  trying  to  make  a  point  plain 
to  another,  will  oftentimes  make  it  far 
plainer  than  ever  to  ourselves.  In  illus- 
trating a  doctrine  of  Scripture,  in  en- 
deavoring to  bring  it  down  to  the  level 
of  a  weak  or  undisciplined  understand- 
ing, you  will  find  that  doctrine  present- 
ing itself  to  your  own  minds  with  a 
new  power  and  unimagined  beauty ; 
and  though  you  may  have  read  the 
standard  writers  on  theology,  and  mas- 
tered the  essays  of  the  most  learned 
divines,  yet  shall  such  fresh  and  vigor- 
ous apprehensions  of  truth  be  derived 
often  from  the  effort  to  press  it  home 
on  the  intellect  and  conscience  of  the 
ignorant,  that  you  shall  pronounce  the 
cottage  of  the  untaught  peasant  your 
best  school-house,  and  the  questions 
even  of  a  child  your  most  searching 
catechisings  on  the  majestic  and  mys- 
terious things  of  our  faith.  And  as  you 
tell  over  to  the  poor  cottager  the  story 
of  the  incarnation  and  crucifixion,  and 
inform  him  of  the  nature  and  effects  of 
Adam's  apostacy;  or  even  find  your- 
self required  to  adduce  more  elemen- 
tary truths,  pressing  on  the  neglected 
man  the  being  of  a  God,  and  tbe  im- 
mortality of  the  soul ;  oh,  it  shall  con- 
stantly occur  that  you  will  feel  a  keener 
sense  than  ever  of  the  precicusness  of 
Christ,  or  a  greater  awe  at  the  majes- 


ties of  Jehovah,  or  a  loftier  bounding 
of  spirit  at  the  thought  of  your  own 
deathlcssness  :  and  if  you  feel  tempted 
to  count  it  strange  that  in  teaching 
another  you  teach  also  yourself,  and 
that  you  carry  away  from  your  inter- 
course with  the  mechanic,  or  the  child, 
such  an  accession  to  your  own  know- 
ledge, or  your  own  love,  as  shall  seem 
to  make  you  the  indebted  party,  and 
not  the  oljliging ;  then  you  have  only 
to  remember — and  the  remembrance 
will  sweep  away  surprise — that  it  is  a 
fixed  appointment  of  the  Almighty,  that 
"  whatsoever  a  man  sowcth,  that  shall 
he  also  reap." 

In  respect,  moreover,  to  alms-giving, 
we  may  assert  that  there  is  evidently 
such  a  present  advantage  in  communi- 
cating of  our  temporal  good  things, 
that  the  giver  becomes  the  receiver, 
and  thus  the  principle  under  review 
finds  a  fresh  illustration.  The  general 
comfort  and  security  of  society  depend 
so  greatly  on  the  well-being  of  the 
lower  orders,  that  the  rich  consult  most 
for  themselves  when  they  consult  most 
for  the  poor.  There  must  be  restless- 
ness and  anxiety  in  the  palace,  whilst 
misery  oppresses  the  great  mass  of  a 
population.  And  every  effort  to  increase 
the  happiness,  and  heighten  the  charac- 
ter of  the  poor,  will  tell  powerfully  on 
the  condition  of  those  by  whom  it  is 
made,  seeing  that  the  contentment  and 
good  order  of  the  peasantry  of  a  conn 
try  give  value  to  the  revenues  of  its 
nobles  and  merchants.  Por  our  own 
part,  we  never  look  on  a  public  hospi- 
tal or  infirmary,  we  never  behold  the 
alms-houses  into  which  old  age  may  be 
received,  and  the  asylums  which  have 
been  thrown  up  on  all  sides  for  the 
widow  and  the  orphan,  without  feel- 
ing that,  however  generously  the  rich 
come  forward  to  the  relief  of  the  poor, 
they  advantage  themselves  whilst  pro- 
viding for  the  suffering  and  destitute. 
These  buildings,  which  are  the  best 
diadem  of  our  country,  not  only  bring 
blessings  on  the  land,  by  serving,  it 
may  be,  as  electrical  conductors  which 
turn  from  us  many  flashes  of  the  light- 
ning of  wrath ;  but,  being  as  centres 
whence  succors  are  sent  through  dis- 
tressed portions  of  our  comnmnity, 
they  are  fostenng-places  of  kindly  dis 
positions  towards  the  wealthier  ranks 
and  may,  therefore,  be    so   considered 


66 


THE  POWER  OF  WICKED?fESS. 


as  structures  in  which  a  kingdom's 
prosperity  is  nur*ed,  that  the  fittest  in- 
scription over  tneir  gateways  would 
be  this,  "  whatsoever  a  man  soweth, 
that  shall  he  also  reap." 

Now  before  we  turn  to  the  second 
topic  of  discourse,  we  would  make  a 
close  application  of  some  of  our  fore- 
going statements.  You  perceive  the 
likelihood,  or  rather  the  certainty,  to 
be,  that  in  all  cases,  thei-e  will  be  a 
self-propagating  power  in  evil,  so  that 
the  wrong  done  shall  be  parent  to  a 
line  of  misdoings.  We  have  shown  you, 
for  example,  that  to  stifle  a  conviction 
is  the  first  step  in  a  pathway  which 
leads  directly  to  stupefaction  of  con- 
science. And  we  desire  to  fasten  on 
this  fact,  and  so  to  exhibit  it  that  all 
may  discern  their  near  concernment 
therewith.  We  remark  that  men  will 
flock  in  crowds  to  the  j)ublic  preach- 
ino:  of  the  word,  though  the  master 
natural  passion,  whatsoever  it  be,  re- 
tain undisputed  the  lordship  of  their 
spirits.  And  this  passion  may  be  ava- 
rice, or  it  may  be  voluptuousness,  or 
ambition,  or  envy,  or  pride.  But,  how- 
ever characterized,  the  dominant  lust 
is  brought  into  the  sanctuary,  and  ex- 
posed, so  to  speak,  to  the  exorcisms  of 
the  preacher.  And  who  shall  say  what 
a  disturbing  force  the  sermon  will  of- 
tentimes put  forth  against  the  master- 
passion  ;  and  how  frequently  the  word 
of  the  living  God,  delivered  in  earnest- 
ness and  aflection,  shall  have  almost 
made  a  breach  in  the  strong-holds  of 
Satan  1  Ay,  we  believe  that  often, 
when  a  minister,  gathering  himself  up 
in  the  strength  of  his  master,  launches 
the  thunderbolts  of  truth  against  vice 
and  unrighteousness,  there  is  a  vast 
stirring  of  heart  through  the  listening 
asseml)ly ;  and  that  as  he  reasons  of 
"  righteousness,  temperance,  and  judg- 
ment to  come,"  Acts,  24 :  25,  though 
the  natural  ear  catch  no  sounds  of  anx- 
iety and  alarm,  attendant  angels,  who 
watch  the  workings  of  the  Gospel,  hear 
the  deep  beatings  of  many  souls,  and 
almost  start  at  the  bounding  throb  of 
aroused  and  agitated  spirits.  If  Satan 
ever  tremble  for  his  ascendency,  it  is 
when  the  preacher  has  riveted  the  at- 
tention of  tlie  unconverted  individual; 
and,  after  descriliing  and  denouncing 
the  covetous,  or  pouring  out  the  tor- 
rents of  his  speech  on  an  exhibition  of 


the  voluptuary,  or  exposing  the  mad 
ness  and  misery  of  the  proud,  comes 
down  on  that  individual  with  the  start- 
ling announcement,  "  thou  art  the  man." 
And  the  individual  goes  away  from  the 
sanctuary,  convinced  of  the  necessity 
of  subduing  the  master-passion  ;  and  he 
will  form,  and  for  a  while  act  upon,  the 
i-esolution  of  wrestling  against  pride, 
or  of  mortifying  lust,  or  of  renouncing 
avarice.  But  he  proceeds  in  his  own 
strength,  and,  having  no  consciousness 
of  the  inabilities  of  his  nature,  seeks 
not  to  God's  Spirit  for  assistance.  In 
a  little  time,  therefore,  all  the  impres- 
sion wears  away.  He  saw  only  the 
danger  of  sin  :  he  went  not  on  to  see 
its  vileness.  And  the  mind  soon  habi- 
tuates itself,  or  soon  grows  indifferent, 
to  the  contemplation  of  danger,  and, 
above  all,  when  perhaps  distant.  Hence 
the  man  will  return  quickly  to  his  old 
haunts.  And  whether  it  be  to  money- 
making  that  he  again  gives  himself,  or 
to  sensuality,  or  to  ambition,  he  will 
enter  on  the  pursuit  with  an  eagerness 
heightened  by  abstinence;  and  thus  the 
result  shall  be  practically  the  same,  as 
though,  having  sown  moral  stupor,  he 
were  reaping  in  a  harvest  tremendous- 
ly luxuriant.  And,  oh,  if  the  man,  after 
this  renouncement,  and  restoration,  of 
the  master-passion,  come  again  to  the 
sanctuary ;  and  if  again  the  preacher 
denounce,  with  a  righteous  vehemence, 
every  working  of  ungodliness  ;  and  the 
fire  be  in  his  eye,  and  the  thunder  on 
his  tongue,  as  he  makes  a  stand  for 
God,  and  for  truth,  against  a  reckless 
and  semi-infidel  generation ;  alas  !  the 
man  who  has  felt  convictions  and  sown 
their  stiflings,  will  be  more  inaccessible 
than  ever,  and  more  impei-vious.  He 
will  have  been  hardened  through  the 
vegetating  process  which  has  gone  on 
in  his  soul.  A  far  mightier  apparatus 
than  before  will  be  required  to  make 
the  lightest  impression.  And  when  you 
think  that  there  the  man  is  now  sitting, 
unmoved  by  the  terrors  of  the  word  ; 
that  he  can  listen  with  indifference  to 
the  very  truths  which  once  agitated 
him ;  and  that,  as  a  consequence  on  the 
reproduction  of  the  seed,  there  is  more 
of  the  marble  in  his  com})osition  than 
before,  and  more  of  the  ice,  and  more 
of  the  iron,  so  that  the  likelihood  of 
salvation  is  fearfully  diminished ;  ye 
can  need  no  other  warning  against  tri- 


THE  POWER  OF  WICKEDNESS. 


€7 


fling  with  convictions,  and  thus  mak- 
ing light  of  the  appointment,  that  "  what- 
Boever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also 
reap." 

But  we  proposed  to  examine,  in  the 
second  place,  the  application  of  the 
principle  of  our  text  to  the  future  scene 
of  recompense.  There  can  be  no  ques- 
tion that  the  reference  of  the  apostle  is, 
specially,  to  the  retributions  of  another 
state  of  being.  The  present  life  is  em- 
phatically the  seed-time,  the  next  life 
the  harvest-time.  And  the  matter  we 
now  have  in  hand  is  the  ascertaining, 
whether  it  be  by  the  natural  process  of 
the  thing  sown  yielding  the  thing  reap- 
ed, that-  sinfulness  here  shall  give  tor- 
ment hereafter. 

You  will  observe  that,  in  showing  the 
application  of  the  principle  under  re- 
view to  the  present  scene  of  probation, 
we  proved  that  the  utmost  which  God 
does  towards  confirming  a  man  in  im- 
penitence is  the  leaving  him  to  himself, 
the  withdrawing  from  him  gradually  the 
remonstrances  of  his  Spirit.  The  man 
is  literally  his  own  hardener,  and,  there- 
fore, literally  his  own  destroyer.  And 
we  now  inquire,  whether  or  no  he  will 
be  his  own  punisher?  We  seem  requir- 
ed, if  we  would  maintain  rigidly  the 
principle  of  our  text,  to  suppose  that 
what  is  reaped  in  the  future  shall  be 
identical  with  what  is  sown  in  the  pre- 
sent. It  cannot  be  questioned  that  this 
is  a  fair  representation.  The  seed  i-e- 
produces  itself.  It  is  the  same  grain 
which  the  sower  scatters,  and  the  reap- 
er collects.  We  may,  therefore,  lay  it 
down  as  the  statement  of  our  text,  that 
what  is  reaped  in  the  next  life  shall  be 
literally  of  the  same  kind  with  what  is 
sown  in  this  life.  But  if  this  be  correct, 
it  must  follow  that  a  man's  sinfulness 
shall  be  a  man's  punishment.  And  there 
is  no  lack  of  scriptural  evidence  on  the 
side  of  the  opinion,  that  the  leaving  the 
wicked,  throughout  eternity,  to  their 
mutual  recriminations,  to  the  workings 
and  boilings  of  overwrought  jiassions, 
to  the  scorpion-sting  of  an  undying  re- 
morse, and  all  the  native  and  inborn 
agonies  of  vice — that  this,  without  the 
interference  of  a  divinely-sent  ministry 
of  vengeance,  may  make  that  pandemo- 
nium which  is  sketched  to  us  by  all 
that  is  terrible  and  ghastly  in  imagery  ; 
and  that  tormenting,  only  through  giv- 
ing up  the  siuner  to  be  his  own  tor- 


mentor, God  may  fulfil  all  the  ends  of 

a  retributive  etonomy,  awarding  to 
wickedness  its, merited  condemnation, 
and  displaying  to  the  universe  the 
dreadfulness  of  rebellion. 

It  may  be,  we  say,  that  there  shall  be 
required  no  direct  interferences  on  the 
part  of  God.  It  may  be  that  the  Al- 
mighty shall  not  commission  an  aveng- 
ing train  to  goad  and  lacerate  the  lost. 
The  sinner  is  hardened  by  being  left  to 
himself;  and  may  it  not  be  that  the  sin^ 
ner  shall  be  pvmished  by  being  left  to 
himself?  We  think  assuredly  that  the 
passage  before  us  leads  straightway  to 
such  a  conclusion.  We  may  have  ha- 
bituated ourselves  to  the  idea  that  God 
shall  take,  as  it  were,  into  his  own 
hands  the  punishment  of  the  condemn- 
ed, and  that,  standing  over  them  as  the 
executioner  of  the  sentence,  he  will 
visit  body  and  soul  with  the  inflictions 
of  wrath.  But  it  consists  far  better 
with  the  character  of  God,  that  judg- 
ment should  be  viewed  as  the  natural 
produce  of  sinfulness,  so  that,  without 
any  divine  interference,  the  sinfulness 
will  generate  the  judgment.  Let  sin- 
fulness alone,  and  it  will  become  pun 
ishment.  Such  is,  probably,  the  true 
account  of  this  awful  matter.  The  thing 
reaped  is  the  thing  sown.  And  if  the 
thing  sown  be  sinfulness,  and  if  the 
thing  reaped  be  punishment,  then  the 
punishment,  after  all,  must  be  the  sin- 
fulness ;  and  that  fearful  apparatus  of 
torture  which  is  spoken  of  in  Scripture, 
the  apparatus  of  a  worm  that  dieth  not, 
and  of  a  fire  that  is  not  quenched ;  this 
may  be  just  a  man's  own  guilt,  the 
things  sown  in  this  mortal  life  sprung 
up  and  waving  in  an  immortal  harvest. 
We  think  this  a  point  of  great  moment. 
It  were  comparatively  little  to  say  of 
an  individual  who  sells  himself  to  work 
evil, 'and  carries  it  with  a  high  hana 
and  a  brazen  front  against  the  Lord  of 
the  whole  earth,  that  he  shuts  himself 
up  to  a  certain  and  definite  destruction. 
The  thrilling  truth  is,  that,  in  working 
iniquity,  he  sows  for  himself  anguish. 
He  gives  not  way  to  a  new  desire,  he 
allows  not  a  fresh  victory  to  lust,  with- 
out multiplying  the  amount  of  final  tor- 
ment. By  every  excursion  of  passion, 
and  by  every  indulgence  of  an  unhal- 
lowed craving,  and  by  all  the  misdoings 
of  a  hardened  or  dissolute  life,  he  may 
be  literally  said  to  pour  into  the  grana* 


68 


THE  POWER  OF  WICKEDNESS. 


ry  of  his  future  destinies  the  goads  and 
stings  which  shall  madden  his  spirit. 
He  lays  up  more  food  for  self-reproach. 
He  \^•idens  the  field  over  which  thought 
will  pass  in  bitterness,  and  mow  down 
remorse.  He  teaches  the  worm  to  be 
ingenious  in  excruciating,  by  tasking 
his  wit  that  he  may  be  ingenious  in  sin- 
ning—  for  some  men,  as  the  prophet 
saith,  and  it  is  a  wonderful  expression 
— "  are  wise  to  do  evil."  Jer.  4 :  22. 
And  thus,  his  iniquities  opening,  a»  it 
were,  Iresh  inlets  for  the  approaches  of 
vensreance,  with  the  (growth  of  wicked- 
ness  will  be  the  growth  of  punishment ; 
and  at  last  it  will  appear  that  his  resist- 
ance to  convictions,  his  neglect  of  op- 
portunities, and  his  determined  enslave- 
ment to  evil,  have  literally  worked  for 
him  "  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal 
weight "  of  despair. 

But  even  this  expi-esses  not  clearly 
and  fully  what  seems  taught  by  our 
text.  We  are  searching  for  an  identity, 
or  sameness,  between  what  is  sown  and 
what  is  reaped.  We,  therefore,  yet  fur- 
ther observe  that  it  may  not  be  need- 
ful that  a  material  rack  should  be  j^re- 
pared  for  the  body,  and  fiery  spirits 
g^iaw  upon  the  soul.  It  may  not  be 
needful  that  the  Creator  should  appoint 
distinct  and  extraneous  arrangements 
for  torture.  Let  what  we  call  the  hus- 
bandry of  wickedness  go  forward;  let 
the  sinner  reap  what  the  sinner  has 
sown;  and  there  is  a  harvest  of  anguish 
for  ever  to  be  gathered.  Who  discerns 
not  that  punishment  may  thus  be  sin- 
fulness, and  that,  therefore,  the  princi- 
ple of  our  text  may  hold  good,  to  the 
very  letter,  in  a  scene  of  retribution  l 
A  man  "  sows  to  the  flesh : "  this  is  the 
apostle's  description  of  sinfulness.  He 
is  "  of  the  flesh  to  reap  coiTuption:" 
this  is  his  description  of  punishment. 
He  "  sows  to  the  flesh  "  by  pampering 
the  lusts  of  the  flesh  ;  and  he  "  reaps  of 
the  flesh,"  when  these  pampered  lusts 
fall  on  him  with  fresh  cravings,  and  de- 
mand of  him  fresh  gratifications.  But 
suppose  this  reaping  continued  in  the 
next  life,  and  is  not  the  man  mowino^ 
down  a  harvest  of  agony  1  Let  all  those 
passions  and  desires  which  it  has  been 
the  man's  business  upon  oartli  to  in- 
dulge, hunger  and  thirst  for  gratification 
hereafter,  and  will  ye  seek  elsewhere 
for  the  parched  tongue  beseeching 
fruitlessly  one  drop  of  water  1     Let  the 


envious  man  keep  his  envy,  and  the 
jealous  man  his  jealousy,  and  the  re- 
vengeful man  his  revengefulness ;  and 
each  has  a  worm  which  shall  eat  out 
everlastingly  the  very  core  of  his  soul. 
Let  the  miser  have  still  his  thoughts 
upon  gold,  and  the  drunkard  his  upon 
the  wine-cup,  and  the  sensualist  his  up- 
on voluptuousness ;  and  a  fire-sheet  is 
round  each  which  shall  never  be  ex- 
tinguished. We  know  not  whether  it 
be  possible  to  conjure  up  a  more  ten'i- 
fic  image  of  a  lost  man,  than  by  sup- 
posing him  everlastingly  preyed  upon 
by  the  mastei'-lust  which  has  here  held 
him  in  bondage.  We  think  that  you 
have  before  you  the  spectacle  of  a  be- 
ing, hunted,  as  it  were,  by  a  never- 
weared  fiend,  when  you  imagine  that 
there  rages  in  the  licentious  and  profli- 
gate— only  wrought  into  a  fury  which 
has  no  parallel  upon  earth — that  very 
passion  which  it  was  the  concern  of  a 
life-time  to  indulge,  but  Avhich  it  must 
now  be  the  employment  of  an  eternity 
to  deny.  We  are  persuaded  that  you 
reach  the  summit  of  all  that  is  tremen- 
dous in  conception,  when  you  suppose 
a  man  consigned  to  the  tyranny  of  a 
lust  which  cannot  be  conquered,  and 
which  cannot  be  gratified.  It  is,  liter- 
ally surrendering  him  to  a  worm  which 
dies  not,  to  a  fire  which  is  not  quenched. 
And  whilst  the  lust  does  the  part  of  a 
ceaseless  tormentor,  the  man,  unable 
longer  to  indulge  it,  will  wiithe  in  re- 
morse at  having  endowed  it  with  sov- 
ereignty :  and  thus  there  will  go  on 
(though  not  in  our  j)ower  to  conceive, 
and,  O  G-od,  grant  it  may  never  be  our 
lot  to  experience)  the  cit.vings  of  pas- 
sion with  the  self-reproachings  ">f  the 
soul ;  and  the  torn  and  tossed  t  ature 
shall  for  ever  long  to  gratify  lust,  and 
for  ever  bewail  his  madness  in  gratify- 
ing it. 

Now  you  must  perceive  that  in  thus 
sketching  the  possible  nature  of  future 
retribution,  we  only  show  that  "  what- 
soever a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also 
reap."  We  prove  that  sinfulness  may 
be  punishment,  so  that  the  things  reaped 
shall  be  identical  with  the  things  sown, 
according  to  the  word  of  the  prophet 
Hosea,  "  they  have  sown  the  wind,  and 
they  shall  reap  the  whirlwind."  Ilosca, 
8  :  7.  We  reckon  tliat  the  principle  of 
our  text,  when  rigidly  applied,  requires 
us  to  sujipose  the  retribution  of  the  un- 


THE  POWER  OP  WICKEDNESS. 


69 


godly  the  natural  produce  of  their  ac- 
tions. It  shall  not,  perhaps,  be  that  God 
will  interpose  with  an  apparatus  of 
judgments,  any  more  than  he  now  in 
terposes  with  an  apparatus  for  harden- 
ing, or  confirming  in  impenitence.  In- 
diiference,  if  let  alone,  will  produce 
obduracy ;  and  obduracy,  if  let  alone, 
will  produce  torment.  Olxluracy  is  in- 
difference multiplied :  and  thus  it  is 
the  harvest  from  the  grain.  Torment 
is  obduracy  perpetuated  and  bemoaned  : 
and  this  aijain  is  harvest — the  grain  re- 
produced,  but  with  thorns  round  the 
ear.  Thus,  from  first  to  last,  "  whatso- 
ever a  man  soweth,  that  also  does  he 
reap."  We  should  be  disposed  to  plead 
for  the  sound  divinity,  as  well  as  the 
fine  poetry  of  woi'ds  Avhich  Milton  puts 
into  the  mouth  of  Satan,  when  approach- 
ing to  the  survey  of  paradise.  "  Which 
way  I  fly  is  hell ;  myself  am  hell." 
"  Myself  am  hell !  "  It  is  the  very  idea 
which  we  have  extracted  from  our  text ; 
the  idea  of  a  lost  creature  being  his 
own  tormentor,  his  own  place  of  tor- 
ment. There  shall  be  needed  no  reti- 
nue of  wrath  to  heap  on  the  fuel,  or 
tighten  the  rack,  or  sharpen  the  goad. 
He  cannot  escape  from  himself,  and 
himself  is  hell. 

We  would  add  that  our  text  is  not 
the  only  scriptural  passage  which  inti- 
mates that  sinfulness  shall  spring  up 
into  punishment,  exactly  as  the  seed 
sown  produces  the  harvest.  In  the  first 
chapter  of  the  Book  of  Proverbs,  the 
eternal  wisdom  marks  out  in  terrible 
language  the  dpom  of  the  scornei's. 
"  I  also  will  .laugh  at  your  calamity,  and 
mock  when  your  fear  cometh."  Prov. 
1 :  2G.  And  then,  when  he  would  de- 
scribe their  exact  punishment,  he  says, 
"  they  shall  eat  of  the  fruit  of  their  own 
way,  and  be  filled  with  their  own  de- 
vices." Prov.  1 :  51.  They  reap,  you 
see,  what  they  sow :  their  torments  arc 
"  their  own  devices."  We  have  a  simi- 
lar expi'ession  in  the  Book  of  Job : 
"  even  as  I  have  seen,  they  that  plough 
iniquity  and  sow  wickedness  reap  the 
same."  Job,  4 :  8.  Thus  again  in  the 
Book  of  Proverbs  :  "  tlie  backslider  in 
heart  shall  be  filled  with  his  own  ways." 
Prov.  14 :  14.  We  may  add  that  so- 
lemn vei'se  in  the  last  chapter  of  the 
Book  of  Revelation,  which  seems  to  us 
exactly  to  the  point.  It  is  spoken  in 
the  prospect  of  Christ's  immediate  ap- 


pearing. "  He  that  is  unjust  let  nim  oe 
unjust  still ;  and  he  which  is  filthy,  let 
him  be  filthy  still ;  and  he  that  is  righte- 
ous, let  him  be  righteous  still ;  and  he 
that  is  holy,  let  him  be  holy  still."  Rev, 
22  :  11.  The  master-property  is  here 
represented  as  remaining  the  master 
property.  The  unjust  continues  foi 
ever  the  unjust;  the  filthy  for  ever  tho 
filthy.  So  that  the  indulged  principle, 
keeps  fast  its  ascendancy,  as  though, 
according  to  our  foregoing  supposition, 
it  is  to  become  the  tormenting  princi- 
ple. The  distinguishing  characteristic 
never  departs.  When  it  can  no  longei 
be  served  and  gratified  by  its  slave,  it 
wi-eaks  its  disajDpointment  tremendously 
on  its  victim. 

There    is   thus  a   precise  agreement 
between  our  text,   as  now  expounded, 
and  other  portions  of  the  Bible  which 
I'efer  to  the  same  topic.    We  have  in- 
deed, as  you  will  observe,  dealt  chiefly 
with  the  sowing  and  the  reaping  of  the 
wicked,   and  but  just  alluded  to  those 
of  the  righteous.     It  would  not,  how- 
ever, be  difficult  to  prove  to  you,  that, 
inasmuch  as  holiness  is  happiness,  god 
liness  shall  be  reward,  even  as  sinful 
ness   shall  be  punishment.      And  it 
clear  that  the   apostle   designed  to  in 
elude  both  cases  under  his  statement 
for  he  subjoins  as  its  illustration,  "  he 
that  soweth   to  his   flesh,   shall  of  the 
flesh  reap  corruption ;  but  he  that  sow- 
eth to  the  Spirit  shall  of  the  Spirit  reap 
life    everlasting."     We    cannot   indeed 
plead,  in  the  second  case,  for  as  rigid 
an  application  of  the  principle  as  in  the 
first.     We   cannot    argue,    that  is,    for 
what  we  call  the  natural  process  of  ve- 
getation.    There  must  be  constant  in- 
terferences on  the  part  of  Deity.     God 
himself,  rather  than  man,  is  the  sower. 
And  unless  God  were  continually  busy 
with    the  seed,  'it  could    never  germi- 
nate, and  send  up  a  hai-\'est  of  glory. 
We  think  that  this  distinction  between 
the  cases  is  intimated  by  St.  Paul.     The 
one  man  sows  "  to  the  flesh  ;  "  himselt 
the  husbandman,  himself  the  temtory. 
The  other  sows  "to  the  Spirit,"  to  the 
Holy  Ghost ;  and  here  there  is  a  super- 
induced   soil    which    differs    altogether 
from  the  natural.-     But  if  there  be  not, 
in  each  case,  precisely  the  same,  there 
is  sufficient,  rigor  of  application  to  bear 
out  the  assertion  of  our  text.     We  re- 
member that  it  was  "  a  crowTi  of  r;gh- 


70 


THE  POWER  OF  WICKEDNESS. 


teousness,"  2  Tim.  4  :  8,  which  spar- 
kled before  St.  Paul ;  and  we  may, 
therefore,  believe,  that  the  righteous- 
0833  which  God's  grace  has  nourished 
in  the  heart,  will  grow  into  recompense, 
just  as  the  wickedness,  in  wliich  the 
transgressor  has  indulged,  will  shoot 
into  torment.  So  that,  aUhougli  it  were 
easy  to  speak  at  greater  length  on  the 
case  of  true  believers,  we  may  lay  it 
down  as  a  demonstrated  truth,  whether 
respect  be  had  to  the  godly  or  the  dis- 
obedient of  the  earth,  that  "  whatso- 
ever a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also 
reap." 

And  now,  what  mean  ye  to  reap  on 
that  grand  harvest-day,  the  day  of  judg- 
ment ]  Every  one  of  you  is  sowing  ei- 
ther to  the  flesh,  or  to  the  Spirit ;  and 
every  one  of  you  must,  hereafter,  take 
the  sickle  in  his  hand,  and  mow  down 
the  produce  of  his  husbandry.  We  will 
speak  no  longer  on  things  of  terror. 
We  have  said  enough  to  alarm  the  in- 
different. And  we  pray  God  that  the 
careless  amongst  you  may  find  these 
words  of  the  prophet  ringing  in  their 
ears,  when  they  lie  down  to  rest  this 
night,  "  the  harvest  is  passed,  the  sum- 
mer is  ended,  and  we  are  not  saved."  Jcr. 
8  :  20.  But,  ere  we  conclude,  we  would 
address  a  word  to  the  men  of  God,  and 
animate  them  to  the  toils  of  tillage  by 
the  hopes  of  reaping.  We  know  that 
it  is  with  much  opposition  from  in- 
dwelling corruption,  with  many  thwart- 
ings  from  Satan  and  your  evil  hearts, 
that  ye  prosecute  the  work  of  breaking 
up  your  fallow  ground,  and  sowing  to 
yourselves  in  righteousness.  Ye  have 
to  deal  with  a  stubborn  soil.  Tlic  pro- 
phet Amos  asks,  "  shall  horses  run  upon 
the  rock,  will  one  plough  there  with 
oxen  ]"  Amos,  6  :  12.     Yet  this  is  pre- 


cisely what  you  have  to  do.  It  is  the 
rock,  "  the  heart  of  stone,"  which  you 
must  bring  into  cultivation.  Yet  be  ye 
not  dismayed.  Above  all  things,  pause 
not,  as  though  doubtful  whether  to  pro- 
secute a  labor  which  seems  to  grov^r 
as  it  is  performed.  "  No  man,  having 
put  his  hand  to  the  plough,  and  looking 
back,  is  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven" 
Luke,  9  :  G3.  Rather  comfort  your- 
selves with  that  beautiful  declaration  ot 
the  Psalmist,  "  they  that  sow  in  tears 
shall  reap  in  joy."  Psalm  12G  :  5.  Ra- 
ther call  to  mind  the  saying  of  the  apos- 
tle, "  ye  are  God's  husbandry."  2  Cor. 
3:9.  It  is  God,  who,  by  his  Spirit, 
ploughs  the  ground,  and  sows  the  seed, 
and  imparts  the  influences  of  sun  and 
shower.  "  My  Father,"  said  Jesus,  "  is 
the  husbandman ;"  John,  15  :  1 ;  and 
can  ye  not  feel  assured  that  He  will 
give  the  increase  1  Look  ye  on  to  the 
harvest-time.  What,  though  the  winter 
be  dreary  and  long,  and  there  seem  no 
shooting  of  the  fig-tree  to  tell  you  that 
summer  is  nigh  ?  Christ  shall  yet  speak 
to  his  church  in  that  loveliest  of  poe- 
try, "  Lo,  the  winter  is  past,  the  rain  is 
over  and  gone,  the  flowers  appear  on 
the  earth,  the  time  of  tli-e  singing  of 
birds  is  come,  and  the  voice  of  the  tur- 
tle is  heard  in  the  land."  Cant.  2  :  11, 
12.  Then  shall  be  the  harvest.  We 
cannot  tell  you  the  glory  of  the  things 
which  ye  shall  reap.  We  cannot  show 
you  the  wavings  of  the  golden  corn. 
JJut  this  we  know,  *'  that  the  sufferings  of 
this  present  time  arc  not  worthy  to  bo 
compared  with  the  glory  that  shall  bo 
revealed  in  us  ;  "  Rom.  8  :  18  ;  and, 
therefore  brethren,  beloved  in  the  Lord, 
"  be  ye  not  weary  in  well-doing,  for  in 
due  season  we  shall  reap,  if  wp  faint 
not "  Gal  6  :  9. 


THE  POWER  OP  RELIGION. 


n 


SERMON  VII 


THE    POWER  OF  RELIGION  TO  STRENGTHEN   THE  HUMAN 

INTELLECT. 


"  The  entrance  of  thy  words  giveth  light;    it  givclh  uudcrstanding  to  the  simple' — Psalm  cxix.  130. 


There  is  no  point  of  view  under 
v^hich  the  Bible  can  be  surveyed,  and 
not  commend,  itself  to  thinking  minds 
as  a  precious  and.  w^onderful  book. 
Travelling  down  to  us  across  the  waste 
of  far-off  centuries,  it  brings  the  his- 
tory of  times  which  must  otherwise 
have  been  given  up  to  conjecture  and 
fable.  Instructing  us  as  tu  the  creation 
of  the  magnificent  universe,  and  defin- 
ing the  authorship  of  that  rich  furni- 
ture, as  well  material  as  intellectual, 
with  which  this  universe  is  stored,  it 
delivers  our  minds  from  those  vague 
and  unsatisfying  theories  which  reason, 
unaided  in  her  searchings,  proj^osed 
with  respect  to  the  origin  of  all  things. 
Opening  up,  moreover,  a  sublime  and 
simple  system  of  theology,  it  emanci- 
pates the  world  from  degrading  super- 
stitions, which,  dishonoring  Deity  by 
the  representations  propounded  of  his 
character,  turn  vice  into  virtue,  and  so 
banish  what  is  praiseworthy  from  hu- 
man society. 

And  thus,  if  you  kept  out  of  sight 
the  more  important  ends  subserved  by 
the  disclosures  of  the  Bible,  there  would 
be  no  single  jfift  for  which  men  stood 
so  indebted  to  the  Almighty  as  for  the 
revelation  of  himself  in  the  pages  of 
Scripture.  The  great  engine  of  civili- 
zation is  still  the  written  word  of  the 
Most  High.  And  if  you  visit  a  tribe  of 
our  race  in  the  lowest  depths  of  barba- 
rism, and  desire  to  bring  up  the  debased 
creatures,  and  place  them  on  their  just 
level  in  the  scale  of  existence,  it  is  not 
by  the  enactments  of  earthly  legisla- 
tion, any  more  than  by  the  tyrannizings 


of  earthly  might,  that  you  may  look  to 
bring  speedily  round  the  wished-for  re- 
sult. The  effective  machinery  is  Chris- 
tianity, and  Christianity  alone.  Propa- 
gate the  tenets  of  this  religion,  as  re- 
gistered in  the  Bible,  and  a  mighty  re- 
generation will  go  out  over  the  face  of 
the  long-degraded  community. 

We  need  hardly  ajipeal,  in  proof  of 
this  assertion,  to  the  records  of  the  ef- 
fects of  missionary  enterprise.  You  are 
all  aware,  that,  in  many  instances,  a 
great  change  has  been  wrought,  by  the 
labors  of  faithful  and  self-denying  men, 
on  the  savage  clans  amongst  which 
they  have  settled.  We  omit,  for  the 
present,  the  incalculable  advantages 
consequent  on  the  inti'oduction  of 
Christianity,  when  another  state  of  be- 
ing is  brought  into  the  account.  We 
consider  men  simply  with  respect  to 
their  sojourning  upon  earth  ;  and  we 
contend  that  the  revolution,  effected 
in  temporal  affairs,  should  win,  even 
from  those  who  prize  not  its  disclo- 
sures in  regard  to  eternal,  the  warmest 
admiration  for  the  Bible.  There  has 
succeeded  to  lawlessness  and  violence 
the  beautiful  scenery  of  good  order 
and  peace.  The  rude  beings,  wont  to 
wander  to  and  fro,  alternately  the  prey 
and  the  scourge  of  neighboring  tribes, 
have  settled  down  to  the  quiet  occupa- 
tions of  industry  ;  and,  gathering  them- 
selves into  villages,  and  plying  the 
business  of  handicraft  or  agriculture 
have  presented  the  aspect  of  a  weli 
disciplined  society  in  exchange  for  that 
of  a  roving  and  piratical  horde.  Ai'v. 
when  a  district  which  has  hercto^'^re, 


72 


TUE  POWER  OF  RELIGION. 


both  morally  and  physically,  been  little  i 
In  tter  tliaii   a  desert,  puts  forth  ia  all! 
its  outspread  the  tokens  of  a  vigorous  1 
culture  ;   and  the  Sabbath-bell  summons 
from  scattered  cottages  a  smiling  popu- 
lation,  linked    together   by   friendship, 
and  happy  in  all  the  sweetness  of  do- 
mestic charities,  why,  the  infidel  must 
be  something  less  than  a  man,  if,  with 
all  his  contempt  for  the  Bible  as  a  reve- 
lation fiom  God,  he  refuse  to  admire  and 
esteem  it  as  a  noble  engine  for  uplifting 
humanity  from  its  deep  degi-adations. 

But  we  wish  ratlier  to  dra^v  off  your 
thoughts  from  what  the  Bible  has  done 
for  society  at  largo,  and  to  fix  them  on 
what  it  eiiects  for  individuals.  It  fol- 
lows, of  course,  that,  since  society  is 
the  aggregate  of  individuals,  what  the 
Bible  does  for  the  mass  is  mainly  the 
sum  of  what  it  does  separately  for  the 
units.  An  effect  upon  society  pre-sup- 
poses  an  effect  on  its  component  mem- 
bers in  their  individual  capacities ;  it 
being  impossible  that  the  whole  should 
be  changed  except  by  the  change  of 
its  parts. 

Now  we  are  persuaded  that  there  is 
no  book,  by  the  perusal  of  which  the 
mind  is  so  much  strengthened,  and  so 
much  enlarged,  as  it  is  by  the  perusal  of 
the  Bible.  We  deal  not  yet  with  the  case 
of  the  man  who,  being  under  the  teach- 
ings of  God's  Spirit,  has  the  truths  of  re- 
velation opened  up  to  him  in  their  gigan- 
tic and  overwhelming  force.  We  shall 
come  afterwai'ds  to  the  consideration 
of  the  circumstances  of  the  converted ; 
we  confine  ourselves,  for  the  present, 
to  those  of  the  unconverted.  We  re- 
quire nothing  but  an  admission  of  the 
truth  of  the  Scripture ;  so  that  he  who 
reads  its  declarations  and  statements, 
receives  them  as  he  would  those  of  a 
wi-iter  of  acknowledged  voracity.  And 
what  we  contend  is,  that  the  study  of 
the  Bible,  even  when  supposed  without 
influence  on  the  soul,  is  calculated,  far 
more  than  any  other  study,  to  enlarge 
the  mind  and  strengthen  the  intellect. 
There  is  nothing  so  likely  to  elevate, 
and  endow  with  new  vigor,  our  facul- 
ties, as  the  bringing  them  into  contact 
with  stupendous  truths,  arjd  the  setting 
them  to  grasp  and  measure  those  truths. 
If  the  human  mind  grow  dwarfish  and 
enfeebled,  it  is,  oi-dinarily,  because  left 
v\>  deal  with  common-place  facts,  and 
i«\\5r  summoned  to  the  effort  of  taking 


the  span  and  altitude  of  broad  and  lofty 
disclosures.  The  understanding  will 
gradually  bring  itself  down  to  the  di- 
mensions of  the  matters  with  which 
alone  it  is  familiarized,  till,  having  long 
been  habituated  to  contracting  its  pow- 
ers, it  shall  well-nigh  lose  the  ability 
of  expanding  them. 

But  if  it  be  for  the  enlargement  of 
the  mind,  and  the  strengthening  of  its 
faculties,  that  acquaintance  should  be 
made  with  ponderous  and  far-sjDi-eading 
truths,  it  must  be  clear  that  knowledge 
of  the  Bible  outdoes  all  other  know- 
ledge in  bringing  round  such  result. 
We  deny  not  that  gi-eat  effects  may  be 
wrought  on  the  peasantry  of  a  land  by 
that  wondrous  diffusion  of  general  in- 
formation which  is  now  going  forward 
through  the  instrumentality  of  the 
press.  It  is  not  possible  that  our  penny 
magazines  should  be  carrying  to  the 
workshop  of  the  artisan,  and  the  cot- 
tage of  the  laborer,  an  actual  library 
of  varied  intelligence,  withouf  produc- 
ing an  universal  outsti-etch  of  mind, 
whether  for  good,  or  whether  for  evil. 
But  if  a  population  could  be  made  a 
Bible-reading  population,  we  argue  that 
it  .would  be  made  a  far  more  think- 
ing, and  a  far  more  intelligent  popula- 
tion, than  it  will  ever  become  throuirh 
the  turning  its  attention  on  simplified 
sciences  and  abbreviated  histories.  If 
I  desired  to  enlarge  a  man's  mind,  1 
should  like  to  fasten  it  on  the  truth  that 
God  never  had  beginning,  and  never 
shall  have  end.  I  would  set  it  to  the 
receiving  this  truth,  and  to  the  grap- 
pling with  it.  I  know  that,  in  endea- 
voring to  comprehend  this  ti-uth,  the 
miiid  will  be  quickly  mastered ;  and 
that,  in  attempting  to  push  on  to  its 
boundary-lines,  it  will  fall  down,  wea- 
ried with  travel,  and  see  infinity  still 
stretching  beyond  it.  But  the  effort 
will  have  been  a  grand  mental  disci- 
pline. And  he  who  has  looked  at  this 
discovery  of  God,  as  made  to  us  by  the 
word  of  inspiration,  is  likely  to  have 
come  away  from  the  contemplation  Avith 
his  faculties  elevated,  and  at  the  same 
time,  humbled  ;  so  that  a  vigor,  allied 
in  no  degree  with  arrogance,  will  have 
been  generated  by  the  study  of  a  Bible 
truth  ;  and  the  man,  whilst  strengthen- 
ing his  mind  by  a  mighty  exercise,  will 
have  learned  the  hardest,  and  the  most 
useful,  of  all  lessons — that  intellect  in 


THE  POWER  OP  UELIGION 


73 


not  omniiJOtent,  and  that  the  greatest 
wisdom  may  be,  oftentimes,  the  know- 
ing ourselves  ignorant. 

Wo  arc  not,  yon  will  observe,  refer- 
ring to  the  Bible  as  containing  the  food 
of  the  soul,  and  as  teaching  man  what 
he  must  learn,  if  he  would  not  perish 
everlastingly.  We  are  simply  arguing, 
that  the  bringing  men  to  study  the  Bi- 
ble would  be  the  going  a  vast  deal  fur- 
ther towards  making  them  strong-mind- 
ed, and  intellectual,  than  the  dispei-sing 
amongst  them  treatises  on  all  the  sub- 
jects which  philosophy  embraces.  The 
Bible,  whilst  the  only  book  for  the  soul, 
is  the  best  book  for  the  intellect.  The 
sublimity  of  the  topics  of  which  it 
treats ;  the  dignified  simplicity  of  its 
manner  of  liandling  them ;  the  noble- 
ness of  the  mysteries  which  it  dcve- 
lopes  ;  the  illumination  which  it  throws 
on  points  the  most  interesting  to  crea- 
tures conscious  of  immortality;  all 
these  conspire  to  bring  round  a  result 
which  we  insist  upon  as  actual  and 
necessary,  namely,  that  the  man  who 
should  study  the  Bible,  and  not  be  be- 
nefited by  it  spiritually,  would  be  bene- 
fited by  it  intellectually.  We  think  that 
it  may  be  reckoned  amongst  incredible 
things,  that  converse  should  be  held 
with  the  first  parents  of  our  race ;  that 
man  should  stand  on  this  creation  whilst 
its  beauty  was  unsullied,  and  then  mark 
the  retinue  of  destruction  careering 
with  a  dominant  step  over  its  surface ; 
that  he  should  be  admitted  to  inter- 
course with  patriarchs  and  prophets, 
and  move  through  scenes  peopled  with 
the  majesties  of  the  Eternal,  and  be- 
hold the  Godhead  himself  coming  down 
into  humanity,  and  working  out,  in  the 
mysterious  coalition,  the  discomfiture 
of  the  powers  of  darkness — oh,  we 
reckon  it,  we  say,  amongst  incredible 
things,  that  all  this  should  be  permit- 
ted to  a  man — as  it  is  permitted  to 
evei'y  student  of  Scripture — and  yet 
that  he  should  not  come  back  from  the 
snnobling  associations  with  a  mind  a 
hundi'cd-fbld  more  expanded,  and  a 
hundred-fold  more  elevated,  than  if  he 
had  given  his  time  to  the  exploits  of 
Caesar,  or  poured  forth  his  attention  on 
the  results  of  machinery. 

We  speak  not  thus  in  any  disparage- 
ment of  the  pi-esent  unparalleled  efforts 
to  make  knowledge  accessible  to  all 
classes  of  our  community.     We  are  far 


enough  from  underrating  sucn  eflTorts : 
and  we  hold,  unreservedly,  that  a  vast 
and  a  beneficial  effect  may  be  wrought 
amongst  the  poor  through  the  well-ap- 
plied agency  of  vigorous  instruction. 
In  the  mind  of  many  a  peasant,  whose 
every  moment  is  bestowed  on  wring- 
ing fi'om  the  soil  a  scanty  subsistence, 
there  slumber  powers,  which,  liad  they 
been  evolved  by  early  discipline,  would 
have  elevated  their  possessor  to  the  first 
rank  of  philosophers  ;  and  many  a  me- 
chanic, who  goes  patiently  the  round 
of  unvaried  toil,  is,  unconsciously,  the 
owner  of  faculties,  which,  nursed  and 
expanded  by  education,  would  have  en- 
abled him  to  electrify  senates,  and  to 
win  that  pre-eminence  which  men  a- 
ward  to  the  majesty  of  genius.  Thera 
arise  occasions,  when — peculiar  cir 
cumstances  aiding  the  development — • 
the  pent-ujD  talent  struggles  loose  from 
the  trammels  of  pauperism ;  and  the 
peasant  and  mechanic,  through  a  sud- 
den outbreak  of  mind,  start  forward  to 
the  places  for  which  their  intellect  fits 
them.  But  ordinarily,  the  powers  re- 
m'din  through  life  bound-up  and  torjjid: 
and  he,  therefore,  forms  but  a  contract- 
ed estimate  of  the  amount  of  high  men- 
tal endowment,  who  reckons  by  the 
proud  marbles  which  cause  the  aisles 
of  a  cathedral  to  breathe  the  memory 
of  departed  greatness,  and  never  thinks, 
when  walking  the  village  church-yard 
with  its  rude  memorials  of  the  fathers 
of  the  valley,  that,  possibly,  there  sleeps 
beneath  his  feet  one  who,  if  early 
taught,  might  have  trode  with  a  New- 
ton's step  the  fii-mament,  or  swept  with 
a  Milton's  hand  the  harp-strings.  We 
make,  then,  every  admission  of  the 
power  which  there  is  in  cultivation  to 
enlarge  and  unfold  the  human  under- 
standing. We  nothing  question  that 
mental  capacities  are  equally  distribu- 
ted amongst  different  classes  of  socie- 
ty ;  and  that,  if  it  were  not  for  the  ad- 
ventitious circumstances^of  birth,  en- 
tailing the  advantages  of  education, 
there  would  be  sent  out  from  the  lower 
grades  the  same  jiroportion  as  from  the 
higher,  of  individuals  distinguished  by 
all  the  energies  of  talent. 

And  thus  believing  that  efforts  to  dis- 
seminate knowledge  may  cause  a  ge- 
neral calling  forth  of  the  mental  powers 
of  our  population,  we  have  no  otho? 
feeling  but  that  of  pleasure  in  the?  sur- 
10 


THE  POWER  OF  RELIGION. 


Tey  of  these  efforts.  It  is  indeed  pos- 
sible— and  of  this  wc  have  our  fears — 
that,  by  sending  a  throng  of  publica- 
tions to  the  fireside  of  the  cottager, 
you  may  draw  him  away  from  tlic  J3i- 
ble,  which  has  licretofore  been  special- 
ly the  poor  man's  book,  and  thus  inflict 
upon  him,  as  wc  think,  an  intellectual 
injury,  full  as  well  as  a  moral.  But,  in 
the  argument  now  in  hand,  Ave  only  up- 
hold the  superiority  of  scriptural  know- 
ledge, as  compared  with  any  other, 
when  the  alone  object  proposed  is  that 
of  developing  and  improving  the  think- 
ing powers  of  mankind.  And  we  reck- 
on that  a  fine  triumph  might  be  won  fur 
Christianity,  by  the  taking  two  illiterate 
individuals,  and  subjecting  them  to  two 
different  processes  of  mental  discipline. 
Let  the  one  be  made  familiar  with  what 
is  styled  general  information ;  let  the 
other  be  confined  to  what  we  call  Bible 
information.  And  when,  in  each  case, 
the  process  has  gone  on  a  fair  portion 
of  time,  and  you  come  to  inquire  whose 
reasoning  faculties  had  been  most  im- 
proved, whose  mind  had  most  grown 
and  expanded  itself,  we  are  persuaded 
that  the  scriptural  study  would  vastly 
carry  it  over  the  miscellaneous ;  and 
that  the  experiment  would  satisfactori- 
ly demonstrate,  that  no  knowledge  tells 
so  much  on  the  intellect  of  mankind  as 
that  which  is  furnished  by  the  records 
of  inspiration. 

And  if  the  grounds  of  this  persuasion 
be  demanded,  we  think  them  so  self- 
evident  as  scarcely  to  require  the  being 
formally  advanced.  We  say  again,  that 
if  you  keep  out  of  sight  the  concern 
which  man  has  in  Scriptural  truths,  re- 
garding him  as  born  for  etei'nity,  there 
is  a  grandeur  about  these  truths,  and  a 
splendor,  and  a  beauty,  which  must 
amaze  and  fascinate  him,  if  he  look  not 
beyond  the  present  era  of  existence. 
In  all  the  wide  range  of  sciences,  what 
science  is  tlicre  comparable,  in  its  sub- 
limity and  difficulty,  to  the  science  of 
God  1  In  all  the  annals  of  humankind, 
what  history  is  there  so  curious,  and 
so  riveting,  as  that  of  the  infancy  of 
man,  the  cradling,  so  to  speak,  of  the 
earth's  population  1  Where  will  you 
find  a  lawgiver  from  whose  edicts  may 
be  learned  a  nobler  jurisprudence  than 
is  exhibited  by  the  statute-book  of 
Moses?  Whence  will  you  gather  such 
vivid  illustrations  of  the  power  of  truth 


as  are  furnished  by  the  marcli  of  chris 
tianity,  when  apostles  stood  alone,  and 
a  whole  world  was  against  them  1  And 
if  there  be  no  book  which  treats  of  a 
loftier  science,  and  none  which  C(/n- 
tains  a  more  interesting  history,  and 
none  which  more  thoroughly  discloses 
the  principles  of  right  and  the  prowess 
of  truth  ;  why  then,  just  so  far  as  men- 
tal improvement  can  be  proved  depend- 
ent on  acquaintance  with  scientific  mat- 
ters, or  historical,  or  legal,  or  ethical, 
the  Bible,  beyond  all  other  books,  must 
be  counted  the  grand  engine  for  achiev- 
ing that  improvement :  and  we  claim 
for  the  Holy  Scriptures  the  illustrious 
distinction,  that,  containing  whatsoever 
is  needful  for  saving  the  soul,  they  pre- 
sent also  whatsoever  is  best  calculated 
for  strengthening  the  intellect. 

Now  we  have  not  carried  on  our  ar- 
gument to  its  utmost  limit,  though  we 
have,  perhaps,  advanced  enough  for  the 
illustration  of  our  text.  Wc  might  oc- 
cupy your  attention  with  the  language, 
as  we  have  done  with  the  matter,  of 
holy  writ.  It  were  easy  to  show  you 
that  there  is  no  human  composition 
presenting,  in  anything  of  the  same  de- 
gree, the  majesty  of  oratory  and  the 
loveliness  of  poetry.  So  that  if  the  de- 
bate were  simply  on  the  best  means  of 
improving  the  taste  of  an  individual — 
others  might  commend  to  his  attention 
the  classic  page,  or  bring  forward  the 
standard  works  of  a  nation's  literature  ; 
but  wc,  for  our  part,  would  chain  him 
down  to  the  study  of  Scripture ;  and 
we  would  tell  him,  that,  if  he  would 
learn  what  is  noble  verse,  he  must 
hearken  to  Isaiah  sweeping  the  chords 
to  Jerusalem's  glory ;  and  if  he  would 
know  what  is  powerful  eloquence,  he 
must  standby  St.  Paul  pleading  in  bonds 
at  Agrippa's  tribunal. 

It  suits  not  our  purpose  to  push  fur- 
ther this  inquiry.  But  we  think  it 
right  to  impress  on  you  most  earnest- 
ly the  wonderful  fact,  that,  if  all  the 
books  in  the  wide  world  were  assem- 
bled together,  the  Bible  would  as  much 
take  the  lead  in  disciplining  the  un- 
derstanding, as  in  directing  the  soul. 
Living,  as  we  do,  in  days  when  intel- 
lectual and  scriptural  arc  set  down, 
practically,  as  opposite  terms,  and  it 
seems  admitted  as  an  axiom  that  to  ci- 
vilize and  christianize,  to  make  men  in- 
telligent  and  to    make   men  religious, 


THE  POWER  OP  RELIGION. 


7S 


are  things  which  have  no  necessary, 
nor  evea  possible  connection,  it  is  well 
that  we  Bomctimes  revert  to  the  mat- 
ter-of-fact: and  whilst  every  stripling 
is  boasting  that  a  great  enlargement  of 
mind  is  coming  on  a  nation,  through 
the  pouring  into  all  its  dwellings  a 
tide  of  general  information,  it  is  right 
to  uphold  the  forgotten  position,  that 
in  caring  for  man  as  an  immortal  being, 
God  cared  for  him  as  an  intellectual ; 
and  that,  if  the  Bible  wei-e  but  read 
by  our  artisans  and  our  peasantry,  we 
should  be  surrounded  by  a  far  more 
enlightened  and  intelligent  population 
than  will  appear  on  this  land,  when  the 
school-master,  Math  his  countless  ma- 
gazines, shall  have  gone  through  it  in 
its  length  and  in  its  breadth. 

But  up  to  this  point  we  have  made 
no  direct  reference  to  those  words  of 
David  which  we  brought  forward  as 
the  subject  of  present  discourse.  Yet 
all  our  remarks  have  tended  to  their 
illustration.  The  Psalmist,  addressing 
himself  to  his  God,  declares,  "  the  en- 
trance of  thy  words  giveth  light,  it 
giveth  understanding  to  the  simple." 
Now  you  will  at  once  perceive,  that, 
when  taken  in  its  largest  signification, 
this  verse  ascribes  to  the  Bible  pre- 
cisely that  energy  for  which  we  have 
contended.  The  assertion  is,  that  the 
entrance  of  God's  word  gives  light, 
and  that  it  gives  also  understanding  to 
the  simple ;  whilst  it  has  been  our  en- 
deavor to  show  that  a  mind,  dark 
through  want  of  instruction,  or  weak 
through  its  powers  being  either  natu- 
rally poor,  or  long  unexercised,  would 
become  either  illuminated,  or  strength- 
ened, through  acquaintance  with  the 
contents  of  Scripture.  We  thus  vindi- 
cate the  truth  of  our  text,  when  reli- 
gion, properly  and  strictly  so  called,  is 
not  brought  into  the  account.  We 
prove  that  the  study  of  the  Bible,  when 
it  does  not  terminate  in  the  conversion 
of  the  soul,  will  terminate  in  the  clearing 
and  improvement  of  the  intellect.  So 
that  you  cannot  find  the  sense  where- 
in it  does  not  hold  good,  that  "  the  en- 
trance of  God's  words  giveth  light,  it 
giveth  understanding  to  the  simple." 

But  we  now  go  on  to  observe  that 
the  passage  applies  with  a  vastly  great- 
er force  to  the  converted  than  to  the 
unconverted.  We  will  employ  the  re- 
mainder of  our  time  in  examining  its 


truth,  when  the  student  of  Scripture  Is 
supposed  also  the  subject  of  grace.  It 
would  seem  as  though  this  case  wer« 
specially  contemplated  by  the  Psalm- 
ist, there  being  something  in  the  phia- 
seology  which  loses  otherwise  much 
of  its  point.  The  expression  "  the  en- 
trance of  thy  words,"  appears  to  denote 
more  than  the  simple  perusal.  The 
light  breaks  out,  and  the  understanding 
is  communicated,  not  through  the  mere 
reading  of  thy  words,  but  through  "  the 
entrance  of  thy  words  :"  the  Bible  be- 
ing effective  only  as  its  truths  pierce, 
and  go  deeper  than  the  surface.  And 
although  it  must  be  readily  conceded 
that  the  mere  reading,  apart  from  the 
entrance  of  the  word,  can  effect  none 
of  those  results  which  we  have  already 
ascribed  to  the  Bible,  we  still  think  the 
chief  reference  must  be  to  an  entrance 
into  the  soul,  which  is  peculiar,  rather 
than  to  that  into  the  understanding, 
which  is  common.  We  may  also  remark 
that  the  marginal  reading  of  the  passage 
is  "  the  opening  of  thy  words  giveth 
light."  If  we  adopt  this  translation, 
which  is,  probably,  the  more  accurate 
of  the  two,  we  must  conclude  that  the 
Psalmist  speaks  of  the  word  as  inter- 
preted by  God's  Spirit,  and  not  merely 
as  perused  by  the  student.  It  is  not 
the  word,  the  bare  letter,  which  gives 
the  light,  and  the  understanding,  spe- 
cially intended;  but  the  word,  as  open- 
ed, or  applied  by  the  Spirit.  Now,  in 
treating  the  text  in  this  its  more  limit- 
ed signification,  we  have  to  do,  first, 
with  a  fact,  and  secondly,  with  the  rea- 
sons of  that  fact.  The  fact  is,  that,  on 
conversion,  there  is  given  to  man  an 
increased  measure  of  understanding. 
The  reasons  of  this  fact  are  to  be  look- 
ed for  in  another  fact,  namely,  that 
conversion  results  from  the  entrance, 
or  opening,  of  God's  words.  It  will  be 
for  our  profit  that  we  consider  atten- 
tively both  the  fact  and  the  reasons. 
And,  first,  as  to  the  fact,  that,  on  be- 
coming a  man  of  godliness,  the  simple 
becomes  increasingly  a  man  of  under- 
standing. 

Now  it  is,  we  believe,  commonly  ob- 
served, by  those  who  set  themselves  to 
examine  the  effects  of  religion  upon 
different  characters,  that  a  general 
strengthening  of  the  mind  is  amongst 
the  usual  accompaniments  of  piety. 
The  instances,  indeed,  are  of  no  rare 


n 


THE  POWER  OF  RELIGIOX. 


oco'irrence  in  which  a  mental  weak- 
ness, bordering  almost  on  imbecility, 
has  been  succeeded  by  no  inconsider- 
able soundness  and  sti-ength  of  under- 
standing. The  case  has  come  within 
our  own  knowledcre  of  an  individual, 
who,  betore  conversion,  was  accounted, 
to  say  the  least,  of  very  limited  capa- 
cities ;  but  who,  after  conversion,  dis- 
played such  power  of  comprehending 
difficult  truths,  and  such  facility  in 
stating  them  to  others,  that  men  of 
stanch  and  well-informed  minds  sought 
intercourse  as  a  privilege.  Something 
of  the  same  kind  has  frequently  been 
obsen'ed  in  regard  to  children.  The 
gi-ace  of  God  has  fallen,  like  the  warm 
sun  of  the  east,  on  their  mental  facul- 
ties ;  and,  rijieniiig  them  into  the  rich- 
ness of  the  summer,  whilst  the  body 
had  as  yet  not  passed  thrpugh  its  spring- 
time, ha§  caused  that  grey  hairs  might 
be  instructed  by  the  tender  discipline, 
and  brought  a  neighborhood  i-ound  a 
death-bed  to  learn  wisdom  from  the 
lips  of  a  youth.  And,  without  confining 
ourselves  to  instances  which  may  be 
reckoned  peculiar  and  extraordinary, 
we  would  assert  that,  in  all  cases,  a 
marked  change  passes  over  the  human 
mind  when  the  heart  is  renewed  by 
the  influences  of  God's  Spirit.  'We  are 
not  guilty  of  the  absurdity  of  maintain- 
ing that  there  are  sujoernaturally  com- 
municated any  of  those  stores  of  infor- 
mation which  are  ordinarily  gained  by 
a  patient  and  pains-taking  application. 
A  man  will  not  become  mox-e  of  an  as- 
tronomer than  he  was  before,  nor  more 
of  a  chemist,  nor  more  of  a  linguist. 
He  will  have  no  greater  stock  of  know- 
ledge than  he  before  possessed  of  sub- 
jects which  most  occupy  the  learned 
of  his  fellows.  And  if  he  would  inform 
himself  in  such  subjects,  the  man  of  i-e- 
ligion  must  give  himself  to  the  same 
labor  as  the  man  of  no  religion,  and  sit 
down,  Avith  the  same  industry,  to  the 
treatise  and  the  grammar.  The  pea- 
sant, who  becomes  not  the  philosopher 
simply  because  his  mental  powers  have 
been  undisciplined,  will  not  leave  the 
plough  for  the  orrery,  because  his  nn- 
dei'standing  is  expanded  by  religion. 
Education  might  give,  whilst  religion 
will  not  give,  the  powers  the  philoso- 
phical bent.  But  there  is  a  wide  difTer- 
ence  between  the  strengthening  the 
mmd,  and  the  storing  it  with  informa- 


tion. We  may  plead  for  the  former 
effect  without  at  all  supposing  the  lat- 
ter:  though  we  shall  come  afterwards 
to  see  that  infoiTnation  of  the  loftiest 
description  is  conveyed  through  the 
opening  of  the  Bible,  and  that,  conse- 
quently, if  the  impartment  of  know- 
ledge be  an  improving  thing  to  the 
faculties,  an  improvement,  the  most 
marked,  must  result  fi-om  conversion. 
But  we  confine  ourselves,  at  present, 
to  the  statement  of  a  fact.  We  assert 
that,  in  all  cases,  a  man  is  intellectual- 
ly, as  well  as  spiritually,  advantaged 
through  becoming  a  man  of  piety.  He 
will  have  a  clearer  and  less-biassed 
judgment.  His  views  will  be  wider,  his 
estimates  more  correct.  His  under- 
standing, having  been  exercised  on 
truths  the  most  stupendous,  will  be 
more  comjietent  for  the  examination 
of  what  is  difficult  or  obscure.  His  rea- 
son, having  learned  that  much  lies  be- 
yond her  province,  as  well  as  much 
within,  will  give  herself  to  inquiries 
with  greater  humility  and  greater  cau- 
tion, and  therefore,  almost  to  a  moral 
certainty,  with  greater  success.  And 
though  we  may  thus  seem  rather  to 
account  for  the  fact  than  to  prove  it, 
let  it  be  remembered  that  this  fact,  be- 
ing an  effect,  can  only  be  established, 
cither  by  pointing  out  causes,  or  by 
ajipealing  to  experience.  The  appeal 
to  experience  is,  perhaps,  the  correcter 
mode  of  the  two.  And  we,  therefore, 
content  ourselves  with  saying,  that 
those  who  have  watched  character 
most  narrowly,  will  bear  out  the  state- 
ment, that  the  opening  of  God's  word 
is  followed,  ordinarily,  by  a  surprising 
opening  of  man's  faculties.  If  you  take 
the  rude  and  illiterate  laborer  you  will 
find  that  regeneration  proves  to  him  a 
sort  of  intellectual  as  well  as  a  moral 
renovation.  There  shall  generally  be 
no  ploughman  in  the  village  who  is  so 
sound,  and  shrewd,  and  clear-headed  a 
man,  as  the  one  who  is  most  attentive 
to  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  And  if  an 
individual  have  heretofore  been  obtuse 
and  unintelligent,  let  him  be  converted, 
and  there  shall  hereafter  be  commonly 
a  quickness  and  animation ;  so  that  re- 
ligion, whose  prime  business  it  is  to 
shed  light  upon  the  heart,  shall  appear, 
at  the  same  time,  to  have  thrown  fire 
into  the  eye.  We  do  not,  indeed,  as- 
sert that  genius  and  talent  are  imjiarted 


THE   POWER  OF  RELIGION. 


at  the  new  birth.  But  that  it  is  amongst 
the  characteristics  of  godliness,  that  it 
elevates  man  in  the  scale  of  intellec- 
tual being;  that  it  makes  him  a  more 
thinliing,  anfi  a  more  inquiring,  and  a 
more  discrimmating  creature ;  that  it 
both  rectifies  and  strengthens  the  -men- 
tal  vision  ;  we  are  guilty  of  no  exagge- 
ration, if  we  contend  for  this  as  univer- 
sally true;  and  this,  if  not  moi-e  than 
this,  is  asserted  in  the  statement,  that 
"  the  entrance  of  God's  words  givcth 
light,    it   giveth    understanding   to   the 

But  we  arc  now,  in  the  second  place, 
to  consider  certain  of  the  reasons  of 
this  fact.  What  is  there  in  the  entrance, 
or,  more  strictly,  in  the  opening  of 
God's  words,  which  may  faii'ly  account 
for  so  singular  a  result  1  We  begin  by 
reminding  you  that  the  entrance,  or 
opening  of  God's  word,  denotes  the 
application  of  scriptural  truth  to  the 
heart  and  conscience  by  that  Almighty 
agent,  the  Holy  Ghost.  Hence  a  sav- 
ing, inllaential,  belief  in  the  disclo- 
sures of  revelation  is  the  distinguish- 
ing jDi'operty  of  the  individuals  referred 
to  in  our  text.  And  in  inquii'ing,  there- 
fore, how  it  comes  to  pass  that  under- 
standing is  given  to  the  simple,  we  are 
to  pi-oceed  on  the  supposition,  that  he 
is  endowed  with  real  faith  in  those 
mighty  truths  which  inspired  writers 
were  commissioned  to  make  known. 
Thus  the  question  before  us  is  reduced 
to  this — what  connection  subsists  be- 
tween believing  in  the  heart  the  words 
of  God,  and  having  the  understanding 
enlightened  and  strengthened  ] 

Now  our  great  difficulty  is  not  in 
finding  an  answer  to  this  question,  but 
in  arranging  and  condensing  our  mate- 
rial of  reply.  We  would,  first,  remind 
you  that  the  truths  which  have  been 
commended  to  the  belief  are  the  most 
sublime  and  spirit-stirring  of  all  that 
can  engage  the  attention  of  mankind. 
They  are  the  truths  of  eternity,  and 
their  dimensions  cori'espond  with  their 
duration.  And  we  feel  that  there  must 
be  an  amazing  demand  upon  the  mind, 
when,  after  long  years  of  confinement 
to  the  petty  affairs  of  this  perishing 
state,  it  is  summoned  to  the  survey  of 
those  unmeasured  wonders  which  crowd 
the  platform  of  the  future.  I  take  a  man 
whose  attention  has  been  engrossed  by 
commerce,  and  whose   thoughts  have 


been  given  wholly  to  the  schemings 
and  workings  of  trade.  May  we  not 
affirm,  that,  when  the  grace  of  God 
takes  possession  of  this  man's  soul, 
there  will  occur  an  extraordinary  men- 
tal revolution ;  and  that,  too,  brought 
round  by  the  magnificence  of  the  sub- 
jects with  which  his  spirit  has  newly 
grown  conversant?  In  j^lace  of  oceans 
which  can  be  fathomed,  and  weighed, 
and  measured,  there  is  an  expanse  be- 
fore him  without  a  shore.  In  place  of 
carrying  on  intercourse  with  none  but 
the  beings  of  his  own  race,  separated 
from  him  by  a  few  leagues  of  distance, 
he  sends  his  vessels,  as  it  were,  to 
lands  tenanted  by  the  creatures  of  a 
more  gloiious  intelligence,  and  they  re- 
turn to  him,  freighted  with  a  produce 
costlier,  and  brighter,  than  earthly  mer- 
chandise. In  place  of  acquaintance  with 
no  ledger  save  the  one  in  which  he 
casts  up  the  debtor  and  creditor  of  a 
few  fellow-worms,  there  rises  before 
him  the  vast  volume  of  doomsday,  and 
his  gazings  are  often  on  the  final  ba- 
lance-sheet of  the  human  population. 
And  we  simply  demand  whether  you 
think  it  possible,  that  there ,  should 
be  this  overpowering  accession  to  the 
objects  which  occupy  the  mind,  and 
yet  that  the  mind  itself  should  not 
grow,  and  enlai"ge,  and  strengthen  1 
The  mind  which  deals  with  both  worlds 
cannot,  in  the  nature  of  things,  be  so 
contracted  as  that  which  deals  only 
with  one.  Can  that  be  a  lai-ge  under- 
standing which  is  conversant  with  no- 
thing but  the  scenery  of  a  finite  exist- 
ence ;  or,  rather,  if  heretofore  the  un- 
derstanding have  grasped  nothing  but 
the  facts  of  an  hour  and  a  league,  and 
these  have  apjjeared  to  crowd  it  to  the 
full,  must  there  not  have  taken  jjlace 
a  scarcely  measurable  enlargement,  if 
eternity  and  infinity  be  now  gathered 
within  its  spreadings  1  Besides,  there 
will  be  a  sounder  and  more  correct 
judgment  upon  events  and  prcbaljili- 
ties,  when  reference  is  always  made  to 
the  fii'st  cause,  than  when  regaixl  is  had 
only  to  second  causes.  There  will  be 
a  fairer  and  more  honest  deliberation, 
when  the  jjassions  are  under  the  sway 
of  divine  promises  and  threatenings, 
than  when  there  is  no  higher  rest'-aint 
than  the  ill-defined  ones  of  human  ho- 
nor. So  that  it  would  seem  altogether 
to  be  expected,  that,  on  the  mere  ac- 


78 


TUR  roWEU  OF  RELIGION. 


count  of  the  might  and  vastness  of  the 
trutlis,  into    acquaintance    with    which 
the  mind  is  introduced,  the  mind  itself 
will  send  forth  latent  and  unsuspected 
powers,  or  even   shoot  up  into  a  new 
Btature   whicli  shall    put    to  shame  its 
former  dwarfishness.     Thus  the  open- 
ing of  God's  words  is  accompanied,  or 
followed,  by  the  rousing  up  of  dormant 
energies.     The  sphere,  which  the  sand- 
grain  seemed  to  fill,  is  required  to  di- 
late, and  take  in  immensity.      The  arm 
which  plucked  a  leaf,  or  lifted  a  peb- 
ble, must  strive  to  wrench  up  the  oak, 
and  raise  the  mountain.     And  in  striv- 
ing it  strcngtliens.     The  mind,  employ- 
ed   on    what    is    great,    becomes    itself 
greater;  busied  with  what  is  bright,  it 
becomes  itself  brighter.     Let  the  man, 
therefore,  have  been  even  of  weak  men- 
tal capacity — conversion  will  give  some- 
thing of  nerve  and  tone  to  that  capaci- 
ty.    Besides,  it  is  a  thing  worthy  your 
remark,  and  so  obvious  as  scarcely  to 
be  overlooked,  that  all  love,  except  the 
love  of  God,  reduces  and  contracts  the 
soul.     If  a  man  be  a  covetous  man,  fast- 
ening the  might  of  his  affections  upon 
money,  you  will  ordinarily  find  him,  in 
every  respect,  a  narrow-minded  being. 
His  intellect,  whatever  its  natural  ca- 
pacities, will  embrace  little  or  nothing 
beyond     modes    of    accumulation,    and 
will    grow   practically  unable  to  over- 
pass the  circles  of  pi-ofit  and  loss.       It 
is  just   the  same,  if  a  man's  love  be 
fixed  on  reputation.     We  hold  it  impos- 
sible there   should  be  eidargcd  views, 
when  those  views  centre  in  one's  self 
There  may  be  lofly  and  far-spreading 
schemes ;    for  ambition  can  look  upon 
a   world,   and   think    it    too    small    for 
its  marchings.      Jiut  so  long  as   those 
schemes    are  schemes    for  the  aggran- 
dizement of  self,  they  may  take  a  crea- 
tion for  their  sphere,  and  yet  require  to 
be  described  as  pitiful  and  niggardly. 
It  is  no  mark  of  an  ample  mind  that  it 
can  be  filled  with  an  unit.     And  many 
a    philanthropist    laboring    quietly    and 
unobtrusively,  for    the  well-being  of  a 
solitary    parish,    or    neighborhood,  has 
thereby  provc^l  himself  a  larger-heart- 
ed and  a  larger-soiiled  creature  than  an 
Alexander,  Ixjundless  in  his  graspings  ; 
and  that,  too,  upon  the  clear  and  straight- 


forward principle,  that  a  heart  which 
holds  only  one's-self,  is  a  narrower  and 
more  circumscribed  thing  than  another 
which  contains  a  multitude  of  our  fel- 
lows. The  truth  is,  that  all  objects  of 
love,  except  God,  are  smaller  than  the 
heart  itself  They  can  only  fill  the 
heart,  through  the  heart  being  contract- 
ed and  narrowed.  The  human  soul  was 
framed,  in  its  first  creation,  to  that 
wideness  as  to  be  capable  of  enjoying 
God,  though  not  of  fully  comprehend- 
ing  him.  And  it  still  retains  so  much 
of  its  glorious  original,  that  "  all  other 
things  gather  it  in  and  straiten  it  from 
its  natural  size."  *  Whereas  the  love 
of  God  not  only  occupies  it  to  the  full, 
but,  inasmuch  as  in  its  broadest  en- 
largement it  is  still  infinitely  too  nar- 
row for  God,  this  love,  as  it  were, 
doth  stretch  and  expand  it,  enabling  il 
to  hold  more,  and  giving  it,  at  the  same 
time,  more  to  hold.  Thus,  since  the 
converted  man  loves  God,  and  this  new 
object  of  love  demands  amplitude  of 
dwelling,  we  contend  that,  as  a  conse- 
quence on  conversion,  there  will  be  ex- 
tension of  the  whole  mental  apparatus. 
And  if  you  find  the  man  hereafter,  as 
we  are  bold  to  say  you  will  find  him, 
exercising  a  correcter  judgment,  and 
displaying  a  shrewder  sense,  than  had 
beforetime  seemed  in  his  possession, 
you  have  only  to  advance,  in  explana- 
tion of  the  phenomenon,  that  "  the  en- 
trance of  God's  word  giveth  under- 
standing to  the  simple." 

]5ut  we  may  state  yet  more  strongly, 
and  also  multiply  our  reasons,  why, 
on  becoming  religious,  the  simple  man 
should  become  more  a  man  of  under- 
standing. Let  it  just  be  considered  that 
man,  whilst  left  in  his  state  of  natural 
corruption,  is  a  being,  in  every  respect, 
disorganized.  Under  no  point  of  view 
is  he  the  creature  that  he  was,  as  fash- 
ioned, originally,  after  the  image  of  his 
Maker.  He  can  no  longer  act  out  any 
of  the  great  ends  of  his  creation  :  a 
total  disability  of  loving  and  obeying 
the  Almighty  having  been  fastened  on 
him  by  his  forefather's  apostacy.  And 
v/hcn  this  degi-aded  and  ruined  being  is 
subjected  to  the  saving  operations  ol 
the  Spirit  of  God,  he  is  said  to  be  re- 
newed, or   remodelled,  after  the  long 


•  Leighton. 


THE  POWER  OP  RELIGION. 


79 


lost  resemblance.  The  conscience  be- 
comes disquieted;  and  this  is  convic- 
tion. The  heart  and  its  affections  arc 
given  back  to  God ;  and  this  is  con- 
version. Now  w^e  do  not  say,  that,  by 
this  great  moral  renovation,  the  inju- 
ries which  the  fall  caused  to  the  human 
intellect  are  necessarily  repaired.  Ne- 
vertheless, we  shall  assert  that  the  mo- 
ral hnprovement  is  just  calculated  to 
bring  about  an  intellectual.  You  all 
know  how  intimately  mind  and  body 
are  associated.  One  plays  wonderfully 
on  the  other,  so  that  disease  of  body 
may  often  be  traced  to  gloom  of  mind, 
and  conversely,  gloom  of  mind  be  prov- 
ed to  originate  in  disease  of  body.  And 
if  there  be  this  close  connection  between 
mental  and  corporeal,  shall  we  suppose 
there  is  none  between  mental  and  mo- 
ral 1  On  the  contrary  it  is  clear  that 
the  association,  as  before  hinted,  is  of 
the  strictest.  What  an  influence  do  the 
passions  exercise  upon  the  judgment ! 
How  is  the  voice  of  reason  drowned  in 
the  cry  of  impetuous  desires  !  To  what 
absurdities  will  the  understanding  give 
assent,  when  the  will  has  resolved  to 
take  up  their  advocacy  !  How  little  way 
can  truth  make  with  the  intellect,  Avhen 
there  is  something  in  its  character 
which  opposes  the  inclination !  And 
what  do  we  infer  from  these  undenia- 
ble facts  1  Simply,  that  whilst  the  mo- 
ral functions  are  disordered,  so  likewise 
must  be  the  mental.  Simply,  that  so 
long  as  the  heart  is  depraved  and  dis- 
tui'bed,  the  mind,  in  a  certain  degree, 
must  itself  be  out  of  joint.  And  if  you 
would  give  the  mind  fair  play,  there 
must  be  applied  straightway  a  correc- 
tive process  to  the  heai-t.  You  cannot 
tell  what  a  man's  understanding  is,  so 
long  as  he  continues  "  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins."  Ephesians,  2  :  1.  There  is  a 
mountain  upon  it.  It  is  tyrannized  over 
by  lusts,  and  passions,  and  affections, 
and  appetites.  It  is  compelled  to  form 
wrong  estimates,  and  to  arrive  at  wrong 
conclusions.  It  is  not  allowed  to  re- 
ceive as  truth  what  the  carnal  nature 
has  an  interest  in  rejecting  as  false- 
hood. And  what  hope,  then,  is  there 
that  the  intellect  will  show  itself  what 
it  actually  is  1  It  may  be  gigantic,  when 
it  seems  only  puny  ;  respectable,  when 
it  passes  for  despicable.     And  thus  we 


bring  you  back  again  to  the  argument 
in  hand.  We  prove  to  you,  that  a  weak 
mind  may  be  so  connected  with  a  wick- 
ed heart,  that  to  act  on  the  wickedness 
would  be  going  far  towards  acting  on 
the  weakness.  Oh,  fatal  downfall  of 
man's  first  parent — the  image  could  not 
be  shivered  in  its  moral  features,  and 
remain  untouched  in  its  intellectual. 
Well  has  it  been  said,  that  possibly 
"  Athens  was  but  the  rudiments  of  Pa- 
radise, and  an  Aristotle  only  the  rub- 
bish of  Adam."  *  But  if  there  be  a  mo- 
ral renovation,  there  will,  from  the 
connection  now  traced,  be  also,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  an  intellectual.  And  hence 
since  at  the  entrace  of  God's  words 
the  man  is  renewed  in  holiness,  we 
have  a  right  to  expect  that  he  will  also 
be  renewed  in  understanding.  If  addi- 
tional mental  capacity  be  not  given, 
what  he  before  possessed  is  allowed  to 
develope  itself;  and  this  is  practically 
the  same  as  though  there  were  a  fresh 
gift.  If  he  receive  not  actually  a  greater 
measure  of  understanding,  still,  inas- 
much as  the  stem  embargo  which  the 
heart  laid  on  the  intellect  is  mercifully 
removed,  he  is,  virtually,  under  the 
same  circumstances  as  if  a  new  por- 
tion were  bestowed.  Thus,  with  all 
the  precision  which  can  fairly  be  re- 
quired in  the  interpretation  of  such  a 
phrase,  we  prove  that,  since  man  is 
elevated  in  the  scale  of  intelligence 
through  being  i-aised  from  his  moral 
degradation,  we  are  bound-  to  conclude 
with  the  Psalmist,  that  "  the  entrance 
of  God's  words  giveth  light,  it  giveth 
understanding  to  the  simple." 

We  have  yet  one  more  reason  to  ad- 
vance, explanatory  of  the  connection 
which  we  set  ourselves  to  trace.  You 
observe  that  the  entrance,  or  the  open- 
ing, of  God's  words  denotes  such  an 
application  to  the  soul  of  the  truths  of 
revelation  that  they  become  influential 
on  the  life  and  conversation.  Now,  why 
should  a  man  who  lives  by  the  Bible  be, 
practically,  possessed  of  a  stronger  and 
clearer  understanding  than,  apparently, 
belonged  to  him  ere  this  rule  was  adopt- 
ed 1  The  answer  may  be  found  in  the 
facts,  that  it  is  a  believer's  duty,  when- 
soever he  lacks  wisdom,  to  ask  it  of 
God,  and  a  believei-'s  privilege,  never 
to  be  sent  away  empty.     In  all  those 


•  Dr.  South. 


so 


THE  PO^VETl  OF  KELIGIOX. 


cases  which  require  the  exercise  of  a 
sound  (lisci-etioH — which  present  oppo- 
site diflicukies,  rendering  decision  on 
a  course  painfully  perplexing — who  is 
likely  to  display  the  soundest  judg- 
ment ?  the  man  who  acts  for  himself, 
or  another  who  seeks,  and  obtains,  di- 
rection from  above  1  We  plead  not  for 
rash  and  unfounded  expectations  of  a 
divine  interference  on  our  behalf.  We 
simply  hold  fast  to  the  promises  of 
Scripture.  And  we  pronounce  it  to  be 
beyond  all  peradventure,  that,  if  the 
Bible  be  true,  it  is  also  true  that  they 
who  have  been  translated  from  dark- 
ness to  light  are  never  left  without  the 
aids  of  God's  ^  Spirit,  unless  they  seek 
not  those  aids,  or  seek  them  not  ear- 
nestly and  faithfully.  If  I  have  known 
the  entranc-8,  or  the  opening  of  the  word 
of  our  God,  then  I  have  practically 
learned  such  lessons  as  these :  "  lean 
not  to  thine  own  understanding ;  "  "  in 
all  thy  ways  acknowledge  Him,  and  he 
shall  direct  thy  paths."  Prov.  3  :  5,  6. 
And  if  I  am  not  to  lean  to  mine  own 
understanding,  and  if  I  have  the  j^rivi- 
lege  of  being  directed  by  a  higher  than 
mine  own,  it  is  evident  that  I  occupy, 
practically,  the  position  of  one  to  whom 
has  been  given  an  increased  measure 
of  understanding ;  and  what,  conse- 
quently, is  to  prevent  the  simple  man, 
whose  rule  of  life  is  God's  word,  from 
acting  in  all  circumstances,  whether  or- 
dinary or  extraordinary,  with  such  pru- 
dence, and  discretion,  and  judgment,' 
that  he  shall  make  good,  to  the  vei-y 
letter,  the  assertion,  that  "  the  entrance 
of  God's  words  giveth  light,  it  giveth 
understanding  to  the  simple  ?  " 

Now  it  is  not  possible  to  gather  into 
a  single  discourse  the  varied  reasons 
which  might  be  given  for  the  fact  un- 
der review.  But  the  causes  already 
adduced  will  serve  to  show,  that  the 
fact  is,  at  least,  by  no  means  unaccount- 
able :  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  the 
connection  is  so  necessary  between 
spiritual  improvement  and  intellectual, 
that  amongst  the  accompaniments  of  a 
renewed  heart,  we  may  justly  reckon  a 
clearer  head. 

AVe  desire,  in  conclusion,  to  press 
upon  you  once  more  the  worth  of  the 
Bible,  and  then  to  wind  up  our  subject 
with  a  woi"d  of  exhortation. 

Of  all  the  boons  which  (Jod  has  be- 
stowed on  this  apostate   and  orphaned 


creation,  we  are  bound  to  sa/  that  the 
Bible  is  the  noblest  and  most  precious. 
We  bring  not  into  comparison  with  this 
illustrious  donation  the  glorious  sun- 
light, nor  the  rich  sustenance  •vyhich  is 
poured  forth  from  the  sto  e-houses  of 
the  earth,  nor  that  existence  itself  which 
allows  us',  though  dust,  to  soar  into 
companionship  with  angels.  The  Bible 
is  the  developement  of  man's  immor- 
tality, the  guide  which  informs  how  he 
may  move  off  triumphantly  from  a  con- 
tracted and  temporary  scene,  and  grasp 
destinies  of  unbounded  splendor,  eter- 
nity his  life-time  and  infinity  his  home. 
It  is  the  record  which  tells  us  that  this 
rebellious  section  of  God's  unlimited 
empire  is  not  excluded  from  our  Ma- 
ker's compassions ;  but  that  the  crea- 
tures who  move  upon  its  surface,  though 
they  have  basely  sepulchred  in  sinful- 
ness and  corruption  the  magnificence 
of  their  nature,  are  yet  so  dear  in  their 
ruin  to  Him  v/ho  first  formed  them,  that 
he  hath  bowed  down  the  heavens  in  or- 
der to  open  their  graves.  Oh,  you  have 
only  to  think  what  a  change  Avould  pass 
on  the  aspect  of  our  race,  if  the  Bible 
were  suddenly  withdrawn,  and  all  re- 
membrance of  it  swept  away,  and  you 
arrive  at  some  faint  notion  of  the  worth 
of  the  volume.  Take  from  Christendom 
the  Bible,  and  you  hare  taken  the  moral 
chart  by  which  alone  its  population  can 
be  guided.  Ignorant  of  the  nature  of 
God,  and  only  guessing  at  their  own 
immortality,  the  tens  of  thousands 
would  be  as  mariners,  tossed  on  a  wide 
ocean,  without  a  pole-star,  and  without 
a  compass.  It  Avere  to  mantle  the  eaitii 
with  a  more  than  Egyptian  darkness  : 
it  were  to  dry  up  the  fountains  of  hu- 
man happiness  :  it  were  to  take  the 
tides  from  our  waters,  and  leave  them 
stagnant,  and  the  stars  from  our  hea- 
vens, and  leave  them  in  sackcloth,  and 
the  verdure  from  our  valleys,  and  leave 
them  in  barrenness  :  it  were  to  irjake 
the  present  all  recklessness  and  the 
future  all  hopelessness — the  maniac's 
revelry  and  then  the  fiend's  imjirison- 
ment — if  you  could  annihilate  that  pre- 
cious volume  which  tells  us  of  God  and 
of  Christ,  and  unveils  immortality,  and 
instructs  in  duty,  a.nd  woos  to  glory. 
Such  is  the  Bible.  Prize  ye  it,  and  stu- 
dy it  more  and  more.  Prize  it,  as  ye 
arc  immortal  beings — for  it  guides  to 
the  New  Jerusalem.     Prize  it,  as  ye  are 


THE  POWER  OP  RELIGIOX. 


81 


intellectual  beings — for  it  "  giveth  un- 
derstanding to  the  simple. " 

We  have  now  only  space  for  a  brief 
word  of  exhortation,  and  we  ask  for  it 
your  closest  attention.  A  minister,  if 
he  would  be  faithful  to  his  calling,  must 
mark  the  signs  of  the  times,  and  endea- 
vor so  to  shape  his  addresses  that  they 
may  meet,  and  expose,  the  prominent 
errors.  Now  we  think  that,  in  our  own 
day,  there  is  a  strong  disposition  to  put 
aside  the  Bible,  and  to  seek  out  other 
agency  for  accomplishing  results  which 
God  hath  appointed  it  to  effect.  Wc 
fear,  for  example,  that  the  intellectual 
benefits  of  Sci-iptural  knowledge  are 
well-nigh  entirely  overlooked ;  and  that, 
in  the  efforts  to  raise  the  standard  of 
mind,  there  is  little  or  no  recognition 
of  the  mighty  principle,  that  the  Bible 
outweighs  ten  thousand  Encyclopaedias. 
And  we  are  fearful  on  your  account, 
lest  something  of  this  national  substi- 
tution of  huinan  literature  for  divine 
should  gain  footing  in  your  households. 
We  fear  lest,  in  the  business  of  educa- 
tion, you  should  separate  broadly  that 
teaching  which  has  to  do  with  the  sal- 
vation of  the  soul,  from  that  which  has 
to  do  with  the  improvement  of  the 
mind.  We  refer  to  this  point,  because 
we  think  ourselves  bound,  by  the  vows 
of  our  calling,  to  take  every  opportunity 
of  stating  the  duties  which  devolve  on 
you  as  parents  or  guardians.  There  is 
a  sense  in  which  it  may  be  affirmed  that 
souls,  those  mysterious  and  imjicrish- 
able  things,  are  given  into  the  custody 
of  every  father  of  a  family.  And  we  are 
persuaded  that  if  there  be  one  thing  on 
this  earth,  which  draws,  more  than  an- 
other, the  sorrowing  regards  of  the 
world  of  spirits,  it  must  be  the  system 
of  education  pursued  by  the  generality 
of  parents.  The  entering  a  room  grace- 
fully is  a  vast  deal  more  attended  to 
than  the  entering  into  heaven  ;  and  you 
would  conclude  that  the  grand  thing 
for  which  God  had  sent  the  child  into 
the  world,  was  that  it  might  catch  the 
Italian  accent,  and  be  quite  at  home  in 
every  note  of  the  gamut.  Christianity, 
indeed,  is  not  at  variance  with  the  ele- 
gancies of  life  :  she  can  use  them  as 
her  handmaids,  and  give  them  a  beauty 
of  which,  out  of  her  service,  they  are  ut- 
terly destitute.  We  wage  no  war,  there- 
fore, with  accomplishments,  any  more 
than  with  tlue  solid  acquirements  of  a 


liberal  education.  We  are  only  anxiom 
to  press  on  you  the  necessity  that  ye 
make  religion  the  basis  of  your  system 
We  admit,  in  all  its  breadth,  the  truth 
of  the  saying,  that  knowledge  is  power 
It  is  power — ay,  a  fatal  and  a  perilous 
Neither  the  might  of  armies,  nor  the 
scheming  of  politicians,  avails  any  thing 
against  this  power.  The  school-master, 
as  we  have  already  hinted,  is  the  giciMd 
engine  for  revolutionizing  a  world. 
Let  knowledge  be  generally  diffused, 
and  the  fear  of  God  be  kept  in  the  back- 
ground, and  you  have  done  the  same 
for  a  countiy'  as  if  you  had  laid  the 
gunpowder  under  its  every  institution : 
there  needs  only  the  igniting  of  a  match, 
and  the  land  shall  be  strewed  with  the 
fragments  of  all  that  is  glorious  ani 
venef  able.  But,  nevertheless,  we  would 
not  have  knowledge  chained  up  in  the 
college  and  monastery,  because  its  arm 
is  endowed  with  such  sinew  and  nerve. 
We  would  not  put  forth  a  finger  to  up- 
hold a  system  which  we  believed  based 
on  the  ignorance  of  a  population.  We 
only  desire  to  see  knowledge  of  God 
advance  as  the  vanguard  of  the  host  of 
information.  AVe  are  sure  that  an  in« 
tellectual  must  be  a  mighty  j^easantry 
But  we  are  equally  sure  that  an  in- 
tellectual, and  a  godless,  will  demon* 
strate  their  might,  by  the  ease  with 
which  they  crush  whatever  most  a- 
dorns  and  elevates  a  kingdom.  And 
in  speaking  to  you  individually  of  your 
duties  as  parents,  we  would  bring  into 
the  family  circle  the  principles  thus 
announced  as  applicable  to  the  na- 
tional. We  want  not  to  set  bounds 
to  the  amount  of  knowledge  which 
you  strive  to  impart.  But  never  let 
this  remembrance  be  swept  from  your 
minds — that,  to  give  a  child  knowledge 
without  endeavoring,  at  the  same  time, 
to  add  to  knowledge  godliness,  is  to 
do  your  best  to  throw  the  momen- 
tum of  the  giant  into  the  arm  of  the 
idiot :  to  construct  a  machinery  which 
may  help  to  move  a  world,  and  to  leave 
out  the  spring  which  would  insure  its 
moving  it  onl^  towards  God.  We  would 
have  you  shun,  even  as  you  would  the 
tampering  with  an  immortality  depo- 
sited in  your  keeping,  the  imitating 
what  goes  on  in  a  thousand  of  the 
households  of  a  professedly  Christian 
neighborhood — the  children  can  pro- 
nounce well,  and  they  can  step  well, 
11 


82 


THE  POWER  OF  RELIGIOX. 


and  they  can  play  well ;  the  mother 
proudly  exhibits  the  specimens  of  pro- 
ficncy  in  painting,  and  the  father 
dwells,  with  an  air  of  delight,  on  the 
progress  made  in  Virgil  and  Homer — 
but  if  you  incjuire  how  far  these  parents 
are  jiroviding  for  their  own  in  the  things 
of  eternity,  why,  the  children  have  per- 
haps learned  the  Cluirch  Catechism, 
and  they  read  a  chapter  occasionally 
on  a  Sunday  afternoon.  And  that  ye 
may  avoid  the  mistake  into  which,  as 
we  think,  the  temper  of  the  times  is 
but  too  likely  to  lead  you,  we  would 
have  you  learn,  from  tho  subject  which 
has  now  been  discussed,  that,  in  edu- 
cating your  children  for  the  next  life, 
you  best  educate  them  for  the  present. 
We  give  it  you,  as  a  truth,  made  known 
to  us  by  God,  and,  at  the  same  time  de- 
monstrable by  reason,  that,  in  going 
through  the  courses  of  Bible-instruc- 
tion, there  is  better  mental  discipline, 
whether  for  a  child  or  an  adult,  than  in 
any  of  the  cleverly  devised  methods  for 
opening  and  strengthening  the  facul- 
ties. We  say  not  that  the  study  of 
Scripture  should  exclude  other  studies, 
or  be  substituted  for  them.  Natural 
philosophy  is  not  to  be  learned  from 
Scripture  nor  general  history ;  and  we 
would  not  have  such  matters  neglected. 
But  we  say  that  Scriptural  study  should 
be,  at  once,  the  ground- work  and  com- 
panion of  every  other;  and  that  the 
mind  will  advance,  with  the  firmest  and 
most  dominant  step,  into  the  various 
departments  of  knowledge,  when  fami- 
liarized with  the  truths  of  revelation, 
and  accustomed  to  walk  their  unlimited 
spreadings.  If  parents  had  no  higher 
ambition  than  to  make  their  children  in- 
tellectual, they  would  act  most  shrewd- 


ly by  acting  as  though  desirous  to  make 
them  religious.  It  is  thus  we  apply  our 
subject  to  those  amongst  you  who  are 
parents  or  guardians.  But  it  applies  to 
all.  We  call  upon  you  all  to  observe, 
that,  in  place  of  being  beneath  the  no- 
tice of  the  intellectual,  the  Bible  is  the 
great  nourishcr  of  intellect.  Wc  re- 
quire of  you  t6  bear  away  to  your 
homes  as  an  undeniable  fact,  that  to 
care  for  the  soul  is  to  cultivate  the 
mind.  We  will  not  yield  the  culture 
of  the  understanding  to  earthly  hus- 
bandmen. There  are  heavenly  minis- 
ters who  water  it  with  a  choicer  dew, 
and  pour  on  it  the  beams  of  a  more 
brilliant  sun,  and  prune  its  branches 
with  a  kinder  and  more  skilful  hand. 
We  will  not  give  up  reason  to  stand 
always  as  a  priestess  at  the  altars  of 
human  philosophy.  She  hath  a  more 
majestic  temple  to  tread,  and  more 
beauteous  robes  wherein  to  walk,  and 
incense  rarer  and  more  fragrant  to  burn 
in  golden  censers.  She  docs  well  when 
exploring  boldly  God's  visible  works. 
She  does  better,  when  she  meekly  sub- 
mits to  spiritual  teaching,  and  sits,  as 
a  child,  at  the  Savior's  feet :  for  then 
shall  she  experience  the  truth,  that 
"  the  entrance  of  God's  words  givcth 
light  and  understanding."  And,  there- 
fore, be  ye  heedful — the  young  amongst 
you  more  especially — that  ye  be  not 
ashamed  of  piety,  as  though  it  argued 
a  feeble  capacity.  Rather  be  assured, 
forasmuch  as  revelation  is  the  great 
strengthcner  of  reason,  that  the  march 
of  mind  which  leaves  the  Bible  in  the 
rear  is  an  advance,  like  that  of  oui 
first  parents  in  Paradise,  towards  know- 
ledge, but,  at  the  same  tiiuo,  tawaK^b 
death. 


OOD  S  PROVISION  FOR  THE  FOOR. 


83 


SERMON  VIII 


THE    PROVISION   MADE    BY    GOD    FOR    THE    POOR, 


"  Thou,  O  God,  hast  prepared  of  thy  goodness  for  the  poor." — PsALM,  Ixviii.  10. 


We  think  it  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able sayings  of  holy  writ,  that  "  the 
poor  shall  never  cease  out  of  the  land." 
Deut.  15:  11,  The  words  maybe  re- 
garded as  a  prophecy,  and  their  fulfil- 
ment has  been  every  way  most  surpri- 
sing. Amid  all  the  revolutions  whereof 
our  earth  has  been  the  scene — revolu- 
tions which  have  presented  to  us  em- 
pire after  empire  rising  to  the  summit 
of  greatness,  and  gathering  into  its  pro- 
vinces the  wealth  of  the  world — there 
has  never  been  a  nation  over  which 
riches  have  been  equally  diffused.  The 
many  have  had  poverty  for  their  por- 
tion, whilst  abundance  has  been  poured 
into  the  laps  of  the  few.  And  if  you 
refuse  to  consider  this  as  a  divine  ap- 
pointment, it  will  be  hard,  we  think,  to 
account  for  the  phenomenon.  It  might 
have  been  expected  that  the  distribu- 
tion of  physical  comfort  would  be  pro- 
portioned to  the  amount  of  physical 
Btrength  ;  so  that  numbers  would  dic- 
tate to  individuals  ;  and  the  power  of 
bone  and  muscle  be  brought  to  bear  on 
the  production  of  equality  of  circum- 
stance. And  just  in  the  degree  that  we 
recognize  the  fulfilment  of  prophecy  in 
the  continuance  of  poverty,  we  must 
be  prepared  to  allow,  that  the  unequal 
■distribution  of  temporal  advantages  is 
a  result  of  the  Almighty's  good  plea- 
sure ;  and  that,  consequently,  all  popu- 
lar harangues  on  equality  of  rights  are 
nothins:  less  than  contradictions  to  the 
assertions,  "  the  rich  and  poor  meet  to- 
gether, the  Lord  is  the  maker  of  them 
all."     Proverbs,  22  :  2. 

There  is  no  easier  subject  for  stormy 
and  factious  declamation,  than  the  hard 
and  unnatural  estate  of  poverty.     The 


slightest  reference  to  it  engages,  at 
once,  the  feelings  of  a  multitude.  And 
whensoever  a  bold  and  talented  dema- 
gogue works  up  into  his  speeches  the 
doctrine,  that  all  men  are  born  with 
equal  rights,  he  plies  his  audience  with 
the  strongest  excitement,  but  does,  at 
the  same  time,  great  despite  to  the 
word  of  inspiration.  We  hold  it  to  be 
clear  to  every  student  of  Scripture,  that 
God  hath  ordained  successive  ranks  in 
human  society,  and  that  uniformity  of 
earthly  allotment  was  never  contem- 
plated by  his  providence.  And,  there- 
fore, do  we  likewise  hold,  that  attempts 
at  equalization  would  be  tantamount  to 
rebellion  against  the  appointments  of 
heaven  ;  and  that  infidelity  must  up- 
heave the  altars  of  a  land,  ere  its  in- 
habitants could  venture  out  on  such 
enterprise.  It  is  just  that  enterprise 
which  may  be  looked  for  as  the  off- 
spring of  a  doctrine  demonstrable  only 
■when  the  Bible  shall  have  perished — 
the  doctrine,  that  all  power  emanates 
from  the  people.  When  a  population 
have  been  nursed  into  the  belief  that 
sovereignty  is  theirs,  the  likelihood  is 
that  the  first  assertion  of  this  sover- 
eignty will  be  the  seizing  the  posses- 
sions of  those  who  gave  them  the  les- 
son. The  I'eadiest  way  of  overturning 
the  rights  of  property  is  to  introduce 
false  theories  on  the  origin  of  power. 
And  they  must,  at  the  least,  be  short- 
sighted calculators,  who,  having  taught 
our  mechanics  and  laborers  that  they 
are  the  true  king  of  the  land,  expect 
them  to  continue  well  contented  with 
the  title,  and  quite  willing  that  superi- 
ors should  keep  the  advantages. 

But  our  main  concern    lies,  at   pre- 


S4 


GOD  S  PROVISION  FOR  THE    POOR. 


sent,  with  the  fact,  that  poverty  is  an 
appointment  of  God.  We  assume  this 
fact  as  one  not  to  be  questioned  by  a 
christian  congi'egation.  And  when  we 
have  fastened  on  the  truth  that  God 
hath  appointed  poverty,  Ave  must  set 
ourselves  to  ascertain  that  God  hath 
not  overlooked  the  poor ;  there  being 
nothing  upon  which  we  may  have  a 
greater  prior  certainty  than  on  this, 
namely,  that  if  it  be  God's  will  that  the 
poor  should  not  cease,  it  must  also  be 
his  arrangement  that  the  poor  should  be 
cared  for. 

Now  our  text  is  a  concise,  but  strik- 
ing, declaration  that  the  solicitudes  of 
God  are  engaged  on  the  side  of  the 
poor.  It  would  seem,  indeed,  from  the 
context,  that  spiritual  blessings  were 
specially  intended  by  the  Psalmist, 
when  addressing  himself  to  God  in  the 
words  to  be  examined.  He  speaks  of 
the  Almighty  as  sending  a  plentiful 
rain,  and  refreshing  the  weary  inherit- 
ance. And  we  think  it  required  by  the 
nature  of  this  imagery,  as  compared 
with  the  rest  of  scriptural  metaphor, 
that  we  understand  an  outpouring  of 
the  Spirit  as  the  mercy  which  David 
commemorates.  But  still  there  is  no- 
thing, either  in  the  words  themselves, 
or  in  those  which  accompany  them,  re- 
quiring that  we  circumscribe  the  bear- 
ings of  the  passage.  We  may  take  it 
as  a  general  truth,  that  "  thou,  O  God, 
hast  prepared  of  thy  goodness  for  the 
poor."  And  we  shall,  therefore,  en- 
deavor to  turn  your  thoughts  on  two 
separate  inquiries  ;  examining,  in  the 
first  place,  how  the  assertion  holds 
good  in  temporal  things,  and  in  the  se- 
cond place,  how  it  holds  good  in  spi- 
ritual things.  This  second  in(piiry  is 
the  more  closely  connected  with  the 
business  of  our  Sabbath  assemblings, 
and  we  shall  give  it,  therefore,  the  main 
of  our  time  and  attention. 

Now  if  we  set  ourselves  to  establish 
as  a  matter-of-fact,  that,  in  temporal 
things,  God,  of  his  goodness,  has  pre- 
pared for  the  poor,  we  seem,  at  once, 
arrested  in  our  demonstration  by  that 
undeniable  wretchedness  which  lies 
heavy  on  the  mass  of  a  crowded  popu- 
lation. But  it  would  be  altogether 
wrong  that  we  should   judge    any  ap- 

E ointment   of  God,  without    reference 
eing    had    to    the    distortions    which 
man  has  himself  introduced.     We  feel 


assured  upon  the  point,  that,  in  con 
structing  the  framework  of  society 
God  designed  that  one  class  should  de- 
pend greatly  on  another,  and  that  sonio 
should  have  nothing  but  a  hard-earned 
pittance,  whilst  others  were  charioted 
in  plenty.  But  we  are  to  the  full  as 
clear  upon  another  point,  namely,  that 
if  in  any  case  there  be  positive  destitu- 
tion, it  is  not  to  be  referred  to  the  es- 
tablished ordinance  of  God,  but  only 
to  some  forgctfulness,  or  violation,  of 
that  mutual  dependence  which  this  or- 
dinance would  encourage.  There  has 
never  yet  been  the  state  of  things — 
and,  in  spite  of  the  fears  of  political 
economists,  we  know  not  that  there 
ever  will  be — in  which  the  produce  of 
this  earth  sufficed  not  for  its  popula- 
tion. God  has  given  the  globe  for  the 
dwelling-place  of  man,  and,  causing 
that  its  valleys  stand  thick  with  corn, 
scatters  food  over  its  surface  to  satisfy 
the  wants  of  an  enormous  and  multi- 
plying tenantry.  And  unless  you  can 
show  that  he  hath  sent  such  excess  ol 
inhabitants  into  this  district  of  his  em- 
pire, that  there  cannot  be  wrung  for 
them  sufficiency  of  sustenance  from  the 
overtasked  soil,  you  will  have  made  no 
advances  towai'ds  a  demonstration,  that 
the  veriest  outcast,  worn  to  a  mere 
skeleton  by  famine,  disproves  the  as- 
sertion, that  God,  of  his  goodness,  has 
prepared  for  the  poor.  The  question  is 
not  whether  every  poor  man  obtains 
enough :  for  this  brings  into  the  ac- 
count human  management.  It  is  sim- 
ply, whether  God  has  given  enough  : 
for  this  limits  our  thoughts  to  divine 
appointment.  And  beyond  all  doubt, 
when  we  take  this  plain  and  straight- 
forward view  of  the  subject,  we  cannot 
put  from  us  the  conclusion  that  God, 
of  his  goodness,  has  prepared  for  the 
poor.  If  he  had  so  limited  the  produc- 
tiveness of  the  earth  that  it  would  yield 
only  enough  for  a  fraction  of  its  inha- 
bitants ;  and  if  he  had  allowed  that  the 
storehouses  of  natiu'e  might  be  exhaust- 
ed by  the  demands  of  the  myriads  whom 
he  summoned  into  life  ;  there  would  lie 
objections  against  a  statement  which 
ascribes  to  his  goodness  the  having 
made  an  universal  provision.  But  if — 
and  we  have  here  a  point  admitting  not 
of  controversy — he  have  always  hith- 
erto caused  that  the  productions  of  the 
globe  should  keep  pace  with  its  popu« 


god's  PROVrSION  FOR   THE  POOR. 


8$ 


lation,  it  is  nothing  better  than  the 
reasoning  of  a  child,  that  God  liath  not 
provided  for  the  jDOor,  because  through 
mal-adniinistration  of  his  bounties,  the 
poor  may,  in  certain  cases,  have  been 
w^holly  unprovided  for. 

And  it  is  worth  your  while  to  obsei"ve, 
that  God  prepared  more  than  mere  sus- 
tenance for  the  poor,  when  he  endowed 
the  soil  with  its  surprising,  and  still 
undeveloped  productiveness.  We  are 
indebted  to  the  giound  on  which  we 
tread  for  the  arts  which  adorn,  and  the 
learning  which  ennobles,  as  well  as  for 
the  food  which  sustains  human  life.  If 
God  had  thrown  such  barrenness  into 
the  earth  that  it  would  yield  only  enough 
to  support  those  who  tilled  it,  you  may 
all  perceive  that  every  man  must  have 
labored  at  agriculture  for  himself;  there 
being  no  overplus  of  produce  which  the 
toil  of  one  individual  could  have  pro- 
cured for  another.  Thus,  if  you  exa- 
mine with  any  carefulness,  you  must 
necessarily  discover,  that  the  sole  rea- 
son why  this  comjiany  of  men  can  de- 
vote themselves  to  the  business  of  le^ 
gislation,  and  that  to  the  study  of  juris- 
prudence ;  why  we  may  erect  schools, 
and  universities,  and  so  set  apart  indi- 
viduals who  shall  employ  themselves 
on  the  instruction  of  their  fellows  ;  why 
we  can  have  armies  to  defend  the  poor 
man's  cottage  and  the  rich  man's  pa- 
lace, and  navies  to  prosecute  commeixe, 
and  preachers  to  stand  up  in  our  cities 
and  villages,  pointing  mankind  to  Jesus 
of  Nazareth — that  the  alone  practical 
reason  of  all  this  must  be  sought  in  the 
fertility  of  the  soil :  for  if  the  soil  were 
not  fertile  enough  to  yield  more  than 
the  tiller  requires  for  himself,  every 
man  must  be  a  husbandman,  and  none 
could  follow  any  other  avocations.  So 
that,  by  an  an-angement  Avhich  appears 
the  more  wonderful  the  more  it  is  pon- 
dered, God  hath  literally  wrought  into 
the  soil  of  this  globe  a  provision  for 
the  varied  wants,  physical  and  moral, 
and  intellectual,  of  the  race  whose  ge- 
nerations possess  successively,  its  pro- 
vinces. That  which  made  wealth  pos- 
sible was  equally  a  preparation  for  the 
well-being  of  poverty.  And  though  you 
may  trace,  with  a  cui'ious  accuracy, 
the  rise  and  progress  of  sciences  ;  and 
map  do\vn  the  steps  of  the  march  of 
civilization ;  and  show  how,  in  the  ad- 
vancings  of  a  nation,  the  talented  and 


enterprising  have  carried  on  crusades 
against  ignorance  and  barbarism ;  we 
can  still  bring  you  back  to  the  dust  out 
of  which  we  were  made,  and  bid  you 
find  in  its  particles  the  elements  of  the 
results  on  which  your  admiration  is 
poured,  and  tie  you  down,  with  the  ri- 
gor of  a  mathematical  demonstration, 
to  the  mai-^ellous,  though  half-forgot- 
ten, fact,  that  God  invested  the  ground 
with  the  power  of  ministering  to  man's 
many  necessities — so  that  the  arts  by 
which  the  comforts  of  a  pojnilation  are 
multiplied,  and  the  laws  by  which  their 
rights  are  upheld,  and  the  schools  in 
which  their  minds  are  disciplined,  and 
the  churches  in  which  their  souls  are 
instructed — all  these  may  be  referred 
to  one  and  the  same  grand  ordinance; 
all  ascribed  to  that  fruitfulness  of  the 
earth  by  which  God,  "  of  his  goodness, 
has  prepared  for  the  poor." 

But  we  said  that  we  should  dwell  at 
no  great  length  on  the  first  division  of 
our  subject;  and  we  now,  therefore, 
pass  on  to  investigate  the  second.  We 
are  to  show  how  the  assertion  holds 
good  in  spiritual  things,  that  God,  of  his 
goodness,  has  prepared  for  the  poor. 

Now  we  often  set  before  you  the 
noble  doctrine  of  Scripture  and  our 
Church,  that  Christ  died  for  the  whole  • 
woi'ld ;  and  that,  consequently,  the  hu- 
man being  can  never  be  bom  whose 
sins  were  not  laid  on  the  surety  of  the 
apostate.  It  is  a  deep  and  mysterious, 
but  glorious,  truth,  that  the  sins  of 
every  man  were  punished  in  Jesus,  so 
that  the  guiltiness  of  each  indiridual 
pressed  in  upon  the  Mediator,  and 
wrung  out  its  penalties  from  his  flesh 
and  his  spiint.  The  person  of  Christ 
Jesus  was  divine  ;  whilst  in  that  person 
were  united  two  natures,  the  human 
and  divine.  And  on  this  account  it  v.as 
that  the  sins  of  every  man  could  rush 
against  the  surety,  and  take  their  pe- 
nalty out  of  his  anguish.  It  is  not 
merely  that  Christ  was  the  brother  of 
every  man.  A  man  and  his  brother  are 
walled-off,  and  separated,  by  their  per- 
sonality. What  is  done  by  the  one  can- 
not be  felt,  as  his  own  action,  by  the 
other.  But  Christ,  by  assuming  our 
nature,  took,  as  it  were,  a  part  of  eve- 
ry man.  He  was  not,  as  any  of  us  is,  a 
mere  human  individual.  But  having  hu- 
man nature,  and  not  human  personality, 
he  was  tied,  so  to  speak,  by  a  most  sen- 


86 


god's  provision  for  the  poor. 


eitive  fibre,  to  each  member  of  the 
enormous  family  of  man.  And  along 
these  unnumbered  threads  of  sympathy 
there  came  travelling  the  evil  deeds, 
and  the  evil  thoughts,  and  the  evil 
words,  of  every  child  of  a  rebellious 
seed  ;  and  they  knocked  at  liis  heart, 
and  asked  for  vengeance  :  and  thus  the 
nin  became  his  own  in  every  thing  but 
Its  guiltiness  ;  and  the  wondrous  result 
was  brought  round,  that  he  "  who  did 
no  sin,  neither  was  guile  found  in  his 
mouth,"  1  Peter,  2:  22,  felt  every  sin 
which  can  ever  be  committed,  and  was 
pierced  by  it,  and  torn  by  it:  and  the 
alone  innocent  one — the  sohtary  unde- 
filed  and  unprofaned  man — he  was  so 
bound  up  with  each  rebel  against  God 
that  the  I'ebellion,  in  all  its  ramifica- 
tions, seemed  to  throw  itself  into  his 
heart;  and,  convulsing  where  it  could 
not  contaminate,  dislocated  the  soul 
which  it  did  not  defile,  and  caused  the 
thorough  endurance  of  all  the  wretch- 
edness, and  all  the  anguish,  which  were 
due  to  the  transgressions  of  a  mighty 
population.  Ay,  and  it  is  because  1  can 
clearly  perceive,  that,  in  taking  human 
nature,  Christ  fastened  me  to  himself 
by  one  of  those  sympathetic  threads 
v/hich  can  never  be  snapped,  that  I  feel 
certified  that  every  sin  which  I  have 
committed,  and  every  sin  which  I  shall 
yet  commit,  went  in  upon  the  Mediator 
and  swelled  his  suiferings.  When  he 
died,  my  sins,  indeed,  had  not  been  per- 
petrated. Yet,  forasmuch  as  they  were 
to  be  perpetrated  in  the  nature  which 
he  had  taken  to  himself,  they  came 
crowding  up  from  the  unborn  ages  : 
and  they  ran,  like  molten  lead,  along 
the  fibre  which,  even  then,  bound  me 
to  the  Savior;  and  pouring  themselves 
into  the  sanctuary  of  his  righteous  soul, 
contributed  to  the  wiinging  from  him 
th(!  mysterious  cry,  "  mine  iniquities" 
— mine,  done  in  that  nature,  which  is 
emphatically  mine — "  mine  ini(piities 
have  taken  hold  upon  mo  so  tliat  I  am 
not  able  to  look  up;  they  are  more 
than  the  hairs  of  my  head ;  therefore 
my  heart  failcth  me."  Psalm,  40  :  12. 
Now  it  wa.s  thus  with  a  distinct  and 
specific  reference  to  every  individual, 
the  poorest  and  the  meanest  of  our 
race,  that  "  the  wonl  was  made  fiesh," 
John,  1  :  14,  anrl  dwelt  and  died  upon 
this  earth.  It  was  not  merely  that  God 
caced  for  the  world  in  the  mass,  as  for 


a  province  of  his  empire  tenanted  by 
the  wayward  and  the  wretched.  Ho 
cared  for  each  single  descendant  ot 
Adam.  We  know,  with  an  assurance 
which  it  is  beyond  the  power  of  argu- 
ment to  shake,  that  Christ  Jesus  tasted 
death  for  every  man.  We  are  commis- 
sioned to  say  to  each  individual — it 
matters  not  who  he  be,  scorched  by  an 
eastern  sun,  or  girt  in  by  polar  snows 
— the  Son  of  the  Eternal  died  for  thee, 
for  thee  separately,  for  thee  individu- 
ally. And  if,  then,  you  cannot  find  us 
the  outcast  unredeemed  by  the  costly 
processes  of  the  incarnation  and  ciiici- 
fixion;  if,  addressing  ourselves  to  the 
least  known,  and  the  most  insignificant 
of  our  species,  we  can  tell  him  that, 
though  he  be  but  a  unit,  yea  ahnost  a 
cipher  in  the  vast  sum  of  human  exist- 
ence, he  has  so  engaged  the  solicitudes 
of  the  Almighty  that  a  divine  person 
undertook  his  suretyship,  and  threw 
down  the  barriers  which  sin  had  cast 
up  between  him  and  happiness — oh, 
have  we  not  an  overpowering  proof, 
that  God  has  been  mindful  of  the  des- 
pised ones  and  the  destitute  ;  and  whilst 
we  can  appeal  to  such  provision  on  be- 
half of  the  poor  as  places  heaven  with- 
in their  reach,  in  all  its  magnificence, 
and  in  all  its  blessedness,  where  is  the 
tongue  that  can  presume  to  deny  that 
(lod  hath,  "  of  his  goodness,  prepared 
for  the  poor  1  " 

But  we  cannot  content  ourselves  with 
this  general  proof.  It  seems  implied  in 
our  text — that  this  is  the  point  which 
we  seek  to  establish — that,  in  spiritual 
things,  God  has  prepared  for  the  poor 
even  more  than  for  the  rich.  We  pro- 
ceed, then,  to  observe  that  God  has  so 
manifested  a  tender  and  imjiartial  con- 
cern ibr  his  creatures,  as  to  have  thrown 
advantages  round  poverty  which  may 
well  be  said  to  counterbalance  its  dis- 
advantages. It  is  unquestionable  that 
the  condition  of  a  poor  man  is  more 
favorable  than  that  of  a  rich  to  the  re- 
ception of  Christ.  Had  not  this  been 
matter-of-fact,  the  Redeemer  would  ne- 
ver have  pronounced  it  "easier  for  a 
camel  to  go  through  a  needle's  eye, 
than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven."  Luke,  18  :  25. 
There  is  in  poverty  what  we  may  al- 
mtjst  call  a  natural  tendency  to  the  lead- 
ing men  to  dcpeiulence  on  (Jod,  and 
faith    in   his  promises.      On   the  other 


GOD  S   PROVISION  FOR  THE  POOR. 


87 


nand,  there  is  in  wealth  just  as  natural 
a  tendency  to  the  production  of  a  spirit 
of  haughty  and  infidel  independence. 
The  poor  man,  harassed  with  difficul- 
ties in  earning  a  scanty  subsistence  for 
himself  and  his  household,  will  have  a 
readier  car  for  tidings  of  a  bright  home 
beyond  the  grave,  than  the  rich  man, 
who,  lapped  in  luxury,  can  imagine  no- 
thing more  delightful  than  the  unbro- 
ken continuance  of  present  enjoyments. 
Poverty,  in  short,  is  a  humiliating  and 
dejiressing  thing;  whilst  affluence  nur- 
tures pride  and  elation  of  mind.  And 
in  proportion,  therefore,  as  all  which 
has  kinsmanship  with  humility  is  favor- 
able to  piety,  all  wl^ch  has  kinsman- 
ship  with  haughtiness  unfavorable,  we 
may  fairly  argue  that  the  poor  man  has 
an  advantage  over  the  rich,  considoi'ing 
them  both  as  appointed  to  immortality. 
But  not  only  has  God  thus  merciful- 
ly introduced  a  kind  of  natural  coun- 
terpoise to  the  allowed  evils  of  pover- 
ty :  in  the  institution  of  a  method  of 
redemption,  he  may  specially  be  said 
to  have  prepared  for  the  mean  and  the 
destitute.  There  is  nothing  in  the  pre- 
scribed duties  of  religion,  which,  in  the 
least  degree,  requires  that  a  man  should 
be  a  man  'of  learning  or  leisure.  We 
take  the  husbandman  at  his  plough,  or 
the  manufacturer  at  his  loom ;  and  we 
can  tell  him,  that,  whilst  he  goes  on, 
uninterruptedly,  with  his  daily  toil,  the 
grand  business  of  his  soul's  salvation 
may  advance  with  an  uniform  march. 
We  do  not  require  that  he  should  i-elax 
in  his  industry,  or  abstract  some  hours 
from  usual  occupations,  in  order  to 
learn  a  cornplicated  plan,  and  study  a 
scheme  which  demands  time  and  intel- 
lect for  its  mastery.  The  Gospel  mes- 
sage is  so  exquisitely  simple,  the  sum 
and  substance  of  truth  may  be  so  gath- 
ered into  brief  and  easily  understood 
sentences,  that  all  which  it  is  absolute- 
ly necessary  to  know  may  be  told  in  a 
minute,  and  borne  about  with  him  by 
the  laborer  in  the  field,  or  the  mariner 
ou  the  waters,  or  the  soldier  on  the 
odttlc-plain.  We  reckon  it  far  the  most 
wonderful  feature  in  the  Bible,  that, 
whilst  presenting  a  sphere  for  the  long- 
est and  most  pains-taking  research — 
exhibiting  heights  which  no  soarings 
of  imagination  can  scale,  and  depths 
which  no  fathoming-line  of  intellect  can 
explore — it  sets  forth  the  way  of  salva- 


tion with  so  much  of  unadorned  plain- 
ness, that  it  may  as  readily  be  under- 
stood by  the  child  or  the  peasant,  as  by 
the  full-grown  man  or  the  deep-read 
philosopher.  Who  will  keep  back  the 
tribute  of  acknowledgment  that  God, 
of  his  own  goodness,  has  prepared  for 
the  poor  1  If  an  individual  be  possess- 
ed of  commanding  genius,  gifted  with 
powers  which  far  remove  him  from  the 
herd  of  his  fellows,  he  will  find  in  the 
pages  of  Scripture  beauties,  and  diffi- 
culties, and  secrets,  and  wonders,  which 
a  long  life-time  of  study  shall  leave  un- 
exhausted. But  the  man  of  no  preten- 
sions to  talent,  and  of  no  opportunities 
for  research,  may  turn  to  the  Bible  in 
quest  of  comfort  and  direction  ;  and 
there  he  will  find  traced  as  with  a  sun- 
beam, so  that  none  but  the  wilfully 
blind  can  overlook  the  record,  guidance 
for  the  lost,  and  consolation  for  the 
downcast.  We  say  that  it  is  in  this 
preparation  for  the  poor  that  the  word 
of  God  is  most  surprising.  View  the 
matter  how  you  will,  the  Bible  is  aa 
much  the  unlearned  man's  book  as  it  is 
the  learned,  as  much  the  poor  man's  as 
it  is  the  rich.  It  is  so  composed  as  to  suit 
all  ages  and  all  classes.  And  whilst  the 
man  of  learning  and  capacity  is  poring 
upon  the  volume  in  the  retirement  of 
his  closet,  and  employing  all  the  stores 
of  a  varied  literature  on  the  illustrating 
its  obscui'ities  and  the  solving  its  diffi- 
culties, the  laborer  may  be  sitting  at 
his  cottage-door,  with  his  boys  and  his 
girls  drawn  around  him,  explaining  to 
them,  from  the  simply-written  pages, 
how  great  is  the  Almighty,  and  how 
precious  is  Jesus.  Nay,  we  shall  not 
overstep  the  boundaries  of  truth  if  we 
carry  these  statements  yet  a  little  fur- 
ther. We  hold  that  the  Bible  is  even 
more  the  poor  man's  book  than  the  rich 
man's.  There  is  a  vast  deal  of  the  Bi- 
ble which  appears  written  with  the  ex- 
press design  of  verifying  our  text,  that 
God,  of  his  goodness,  has  "  prepared 
for  the  poor."  There  are  many  of  the 
promises  which  seem  to  demand  pov- 
erty as  the  element  wherein  alone  their 
full  lustre  can  radiate.  The  prejudices, 
moreover,  of  the  poor  man  against  the 
truths  which  the  volume  opens  up  are 
likely  to  be  less  strong,  and  inveterate, 
than  those  of  the  rich  man.  He  seems 
to  have,  naturally,  a  kind  of  compan- 
ionship with  a  suffering  Redeemer,  who 


GOD  S  PROVISION  FOR  THE  POOR. 


had  not  "  where  to  lay  his  head."  Luke, 
8:  58.  He  can  have  no  repugnance, 
but,  on  the  contraiy,  a  sort  uf  instinc- 
tive attachment,  to  apostles  who,  Hke 
himself,  wrought  with  their  own  hands 
for  the  supply  of  daily  necessities.  He 
can  feel  himself,  if  we  may  use  such 
expression,  at  home  in  the  scenery,  and 
amongst  the  leading  characters,  of  the 
New  Testament.  Whereas,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  scientific  man,  and  the  man 
of  education,  and  of  influence,  and  of 
high  bearing  in  society,  will  have  pre- 
possessions, and  habits  of  thinking,  with 
which  the  announcements  of  the  Gos- 
pel will  unavoidably  jar.  He  has,  as  it 
were,  to  be  brought  down  to  the  level 
of  the  poor  man,  before  he  can  pass  un- 
der the  gateway  which  stands  at  the 
outset  of  the  path  of  salvation.  He  has 
to  begin  by  learning  the  comparative 
worthlcssness  of  many  distinctions, 
which,  never  having  been  placed  with- 
in the  poor  man's  reach,  stand  not  as 
obstacles  to  his  heavenward  progress. 
And  if  there  be  correctness  in  this  re- 
presentation, it  is  quite  evident  that  if 
the  Gospel  be,  for  the  first  time,  put 
into  the  hands,  or  proclaimed  in  the 
hearing,  of  a  man  of  rank  and  of  a  mean 
man,  the  likelihood  is  far  greater  that 
the  mean  man  will  lay  hold,  effective- 
ly and  savingly,  on  the  truth,  than  that 
the  man  of  rank  will  thus  grasp  it :  and 
our  conclusion,  therefore,  comes  out 
strong  and  irresistible,  that,  if  there  be 
advantage  on  either  side,  the  Bible  is 
even  more  nicely  adapted  to  the  poor 
than  to  the  rich ;  and  that,  consequent- 
ly, it  is  most  emphatically  true,  that, 
"  thou,  O  God,  hast  pi'epared  of  thy 
goodness  for  the  poor." 

But  there  is  yet  another  point  on 
which  we  think  it  well  to  turn  briefly 
your  attention ;  for  it  is  one  which  is, 
oftentimes,  not  a  little  misunderstood. 
We  know  that  what  are  termed  the  evi- 
dences of  Christianity  are  of  a  costly 
and  intricate  description,  scarcely  ac- 
cessible except  to  the  studious.  It  is 
hardly  to  be  supposed  that  the  unlet- 
tered man  can  have  mastered  the  ex- 
ternal arguments  which  go  to  prove  the 
divine  origin  of  our  faith.  And  if  the 
Almighty  have  placed  the  witness  for 
the  truth  of  Christianity  lieyond  the 
poor  man's  grasp,  has  he  not  loft  the 
poor  man  open  to  the  inroads  of  scep- 
ticism; and  how,   thereiure,  can  It  be 


said  that  he  has  of  his  goodness  "  pre- 
pared for  the  poor  ]  "  There  is  much 
in  the  aspect  of  the  times  Avhich  gives 
powerful  interest  to  such  a  question  as 
this.  Whilst  all  ranks  are  assailed  by 
the  emissaries  of  infidelity,  it  is  import- 
ant that  wc  see  whether  God  has  not 
prepared  for  all  ranks  some  engines  oi 
resistance. 

Now  we  are  never  afraid  of  subject- 
ing the  external  evidences  of  Christi- 
anity to  the  most  sifting  processes 
which  our  adversaries  can  invent.  We 
do  not  receive  a  religion  without  proof; 
and  our  proof  we  will  bring  to  the  best 
touchstones  of  truth.  Christianity  is 
not  the  grave,  but  the  field  of  vigoi'ous 
inquiry.  And  we  see  not,  therefore, 
why  scepticism  should  claim  to  itsdlf 
a  monopoly  of  intellect.  The  high- 
road to  reputation  for  talent  seems  to 
be  boldness  in  denying  Christianity. 
Ay,  and  many  a  young  man  passes  now- 
a-days  for  a  fine  and  oinginal  genius, 
who  could  not  distinguish  himself  in 
the  honorable  competitions  of  an  uni^ 
versity,  who  makes  no  way  in  his  pro- 
fession, and  is  nothing  better  than  a 
cypher  in  society ;  but  who  is  of  so  in- 
dependent a  spirit  that  he  can  jeer  at 
priestcraft  in  a  club-room,  and  of  so  in- 
ventive a  turn  that  he  can  ply  Scrip- 
ture with  objections  a  hundred  times 
refuted. 

But  the  evidences  of  Christianity  are 
not  to  be  set  aside  by  a  sneci'.  Wc  will 
take  our  stand  as  on  a  mount  thrown 
up  in  the  broad  waste  of  many  genera- 
tions ;  and  one  century  after  another 
shall  struggle  forth  from  the  sepulchres 
of  the  past ;  and  each,  as  its  monarchs, 
and  its  warriors,  and  its  priests,  walk 
dimly  under  review,  shall  lay  down  a 
tribute  at  the  feet  of  Christianity.  We 
will  have  the  volume  of  history  spread 
out  before  us,  and  bid  science  arrange 
her  manifold  developments,  and  seek 
the  bones  of  martyrs  in  the  east  and  in 
the  wesr,  and  tread  upon  battle-plains 
with  an  empire's  dust  sepulchred  be- 
neath; but  on  whatsoever  we  gaze,  and 
whithersoever  we  turn,  the  evidences 
of  our  religion  shall  look  nobler,  and 
wax  mightier.  It  were  the  work  of  a 
life-time  to  gain  even  cursory  acquaint- 
ance with  the  proofs  which  substan- 
tiate the  claims  of  Christianity.  It 
would  beat  down  the  energies  of  the 
most  gifted  and  masterful  spirit,  to  re 


GOD  S  PROVISION  FOR  THE  POOR. 


89 


quire  it  to  search  out,  and.  concentrate, 
whatsoever  attests  the  truth  of  the  Gos- 
pel— for  the  mountains  of  the  eartli  have 
a  voice,  and  the  cities,  and  the  valUes, 
and  the  tomhs  ;  and  the  sail  must  be  un- 
furled to  bear  the  inquirer  over  every 
ocean,  and  the  wings  of  morning  must 
cany  him  to  the  outskirts  of  infinite 
space.  We  will  not  concede  that  a  more 
overwhelming  demonstration  would  be 
given  to  the  man  who  should  stand  side 
by  side  with  a  messenger  from  the  invis- 
ible world,  and  hear  from  celestial  lips 
the  spirit-stirring  news  of  redemption, 
and  be  assured  of  the  reality  of  •the  in- 
terview by  a  fiery  cross  left  stamped  on 
his  forehead,  than  is  actually  to  be  at- 
tained by  him  who  sits  down  patiently 
and  assiduously,  and  plies,  with  all  the 
diligence  of  an  unwearied  laborer  in  the 
mine  of  information,  at  accumulating 
and  arrano^inn:  the  evidences  of  christian- 
ity.  So  that  we  may  well  think  our- 
selves warranted  in  contending  that  God 
has  marvellously  prepared  for  the  faith 
of  educated  men.  Scepticism,  whatever 
its  boasts,  walks  to  its  conclusions  over 
a  fettered  reason,  and  a  forgotten  crea- 
tion. And  any  man  who  will  study 
carefully,  and  think  candidly,  shall  rise 
from  his  inquiry  a  believer  in  revelation. 
But  what  say  we  to  the  case  of  the 
poor  man  1  How  hath  God,  of  his  good- 
ness, "  prepared  for  the  poor  ]  "  It  may 
be  certain  that  the  external  evidences 
of  chi-istianity  amount  to  a  demonstra- 
tion, which,  when  fairly  put,  is  altogeth- 
er irresistible.  But  it  is  just  as  certain 
that  the  generality  of  believers  can  have 
little  or  no  acquaintance  with  these  evi- 
dences. It  were  virtually  the  laying  an 
interdict  on  the  Christianity  of  the  lower 
orders,  to  establish  a  necessity,  that 
mastery  of  the  evidences  must  precede 
belief  in  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel. 
We  can  see  no  result  but  that  of  limit- 
ing the  very  existence  of  religion  to  the 
academy  or  the  cloister,  and  prohibiting 
its  circulation  through  the  dense  masses 
of  our  population,  if  the  only  method  of 
certifying  one's  self  that  the  Bible  is  from 
God  were  that  of  searching  through  the 
annals  of  antiquity,  and  following  out  the 
testimcmy  arranged  by  the  laboi's  of  suc- 
cessive generations.  And  yet,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  were  just  as  fatal  to  the 
Christianity  of  our  peasantry,  to  main- 
tain that  they  take  for  .granted  the  di- 
vine origin  of  the  Gosjjel,  and  that  they 


can  give  no  better  reason  than  that  of 
long-established  custom,  why  the  Biblft 
should  be  received  as  a  communication 
from  heaven.  We  say  that  this  would 
be  as  fatal  as  the  former  supposition  to 
the  Christianity  of  our  peasantry.  A 
belief  which  has  nothing  to  rest  on,  de- 
serves not  to  be  designated  belief;  and, 
unable  to  sustain  itself  by  reason,  must 
yield  at  the  first  onset  of  scepticism. 

But  there  can  be  nothing  more  unjust 
than  the  conclusion,  that  the  poor  man 
has  no  evidence  within  reach,  because 
he  has  not  the  external.  We  will  not 
allow  that  God  has  failed,  in  this  respect, 
to  prepare  for  the  poor.  We  will  go 
into  the  cottage  of  the  poor  disciple  of 
Christ,  and  we  will  say  to  him,  why 
do  you  believe  upon  Jesus  ?  You  know 
little  or  nothino;  about  the  witnesses  of 
antiquity.  You  know  little  or  nothmg 
about  the  completion  of  prophecy.  You 
can  give  me  no  logical,  no  grammatical, 
no  historical  reasons  for  concluding  the 
Bible  to  be,  what  it  professes  itself,  a 
revelation,  made  in  early  times,  of  the 
will  of  the  Almighty.  Why  then  do 
you  believe  upon  Jesus  1  What  grounds 
have  you  for  faith,  what  basis  of  convic- 
tion 1 

Now  if  the  poor  man  lay  bare  his  ex- 
perience, he  v/ill,  probably,  show  how 
God  hath  prepared  for  him,  by  giving 
such  a  reply  as  the  following :  I  lived 
Ions:  vmconcerned  about  the  soul.  I 
thought  only  on  the  pleasures  of  to-day  : 
I  cared  nothing  for  the  worm  which 
might  gnaw  me  to-morrow.  T  was 
brought,  however,  by  sickness,  or  by 
disappointment,  or  by  the  death  of  the 
one  I  best  loved,  or  by  a  startling  ser- 
mon, to  fear  that  all  was  not  right  be- 
tween me  and  God.  I  grew  more  and 
more  anxious.  Terrors  haunted  me  by 
day,  and  sleep  went  from  my  pillow  by 
niffht.  At  leno^th  I  was  bidden  to  look 
unto  Jesus  as  "  delivered  for  my  offen- 
ces, and  raised  again  for  my  justifica- 
tion." Romans,  4  :  25.  Instantly  I  felt 
him  to  be  exactly  the  Savior  that  I  need- 
ed. Every  want  found  in  him  an  imme- 
diate supply ;  every  fear  a  cordial ;  ev- 
ery wound  a  balm.  And  ever  since,  the 
more  I  have  read  of  the  Bible,  the  more 
have  I  found  that  it  must  have  been 
written  on  purpose  for  myself  It  seems 
to  know  all  my  cares,  all  my  temptations ; 
and  it  speaks  so  beautifully  a  word  in 
season,  that  he  who  wrote  it  must,  I 
12 


90 


GOD  S  PROVISION  FOR  THE  POOR. 


think,  have  had  me  in  his  eye.  ^VTiy 
do  I  believe  in  Jesus  1  Oh,  I  feel  him 
to  be  a  divine  Savior — that  is  my 
proof.  Why  do  I  beUcve  the  Bible  l 
I  have  found  it  to  be  God's  word — there 
is  my  witness. 

We  think,  assuredly,  that  if  you  take 
the  expeiicncc  of  the  generality  of 
christians,  you  will  find  that  they  do  not 
believe  without  proof  We  again  say, 
tliat  we  cannot  assent  to  the  proposition 
that  the  Christianity  of  our  villages  and 
hamlets  takes  for  granted  the  truth  of 
the  Bible,  and  has  no  reason  to  give 
when  that  truth  is  called  in  question. 
The  peasant  who,  when  the  hard  toil  of 
the  day  is  concluded,  will  sit  by  his  fire- 
side, and  read  the  Bible  with  all  the  ea- 
gerness, and  all  the  confidence,  of  one 
who  receives  it  as  a  message  from  God, 
has  some  better  ground  than  common 
report,  or  the  tradition  of  his  forefathers, 
on  which  to  rest  his  persuasion  of  the 
divinity  of  the  volume.  The  book 
speaks  to  him  with  a  force  which  he  feels 
never  could  belong  to  a  mere  human 
composition.  There  is  drawn  such  a 
picture  of  his  own  heart — a  picture  pre- 
senting many  features  which  he  would 
not  have  discovered,  had  they  not  been 
thus  outlined,  but  which  he  recognizes 
as  most  accurate,  the  instant  they  are 
exhibited — that  He  can  be  sure  that  the 
painter  is  none  other  but  he  who  alone 
searches  the  heart.  The  pi-oposed  de- 
liverance agrees  so  wonderfully,  and  so 
minutely  with  his  wants ;  it  manifests 
such  unbounded  and  equal  concern  for 
the  honor  of  God,  and  the  well-being  of 
man  ;  it  provides  with  so  consummate  a 
skill,  that,  whilst  the  humajl  race  is  re- 
deemed, the  divine  attributes  shall  be 
glorified  ;  that  it  Avere  like  telling  him 
that  a  creature  spread  out  the  firmament, 
and  inlaid  it  with  worlds,  to  tell  him 
that  the  proflered  salvation  is  the  device 
of  impostors,  or  the  figment  of  enthusi- 
asts. And  thus  the  pious  inmate  of  the 
workshop  or  the  cottage  "  hath  the  wit- 
ness in  himself"  1  St.  John,  5  :  10. 
The  home-thrusts  which  he  receives 
from  "  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,"  Ephe- 
sians,  G  :  17,  are  his  evidence  that  the 
weapon  is  not  of  earthly  manufacture. 
The  surprising  manner  in  which  texts 
Avill  start,  as  it  were,  from  the  page,  and 
become  spoken  things  rather  than  writ- 
ten;  so  that  the  Bible,  shaking  itself 
from  the  trammels  of  the  printing-press. 


seems  to  rush  fi  om  the  firmament  in  the 
breathings  of  tlic  Omnipotent — this 
stamps  Scripture  to  him  'as  literally 
God's  word — prophets  and  apostles  may 
have  wiitten  it,  but  the  Almighty  still 
utters  it.  And  all  this  makes  the  evi- 
dence with  Avhich  the  poor  man  is  pre- 
pared in  defence  of  Christianity.  We  do 
not  represent  it  as  an  evidence  which 
may  successively  be  brought  forward  in 
professed  combat  with  infidelity.  It  must 
have  been  experienced  before  it  can  be 
admitted  ;  and  not  being  of  a  nature  to 
commend  itself  distinctly  to  the  under- 
standing of  the  sceptic,  will  be  rejected 
by  him  as  visionary,  and  therefore,  re- 
ceived not  in  proof.  But  if  the  self- 
evidencing  power  of  Scripture  render 
not  the  peasant  a  match  for  the  unbe- 
liever, it  nobly  secures  him  against  be- 
ing himself  overborne.  "  The  witness 
in  himself,"  if  it  qualify  him  not,  like 
science  and  scholarship,  for  the  ofi'ensive, 
will  render  him  quite  impregnable,  so 
long  as  he  stands  on  the  defensive.  And 
we  believe  of  many  a  village  christian, 
who  has  never  read  a  line  on  the  evi- 
dences of  Christianity,  and  whose  whole 
theology  is  drawn  from  the  Bible  itself, 
that  he  would  be,  to  the  full,  as  stanch 
in  withstanding  the  emissaries  of  scep- 
ticism as  the  mightiest  and  best  equip- 
ped of  our  learned  divines;  and  that,  if 
he  could  give  no  answer  to  his  assailant 
whilst  urging  his  chronological  and  his- 
torical objections,  yet  by  falling  back  on 
his  own  experience,  and  entrenching 
himself  within  the  manifestations  of 
truth  which  have  been  made  to  his  own 
conscience,  he  would  escape  the  giving 
harborage,  for  one  instant,  to  a  suspi- 
cion that  Christianity  is  a  fable  ;  and 
holds  fast,  in  all  its  beauty,  and  in  all  its 
integrity,  the  truth,  that  "we  have  an 
advocate  with  the  Father,  Christ  Jesus 
the  righteous,  and  he  is  the  propitiation 
of  our  sins."   1  John,  2  :  1. 

Yea,  it  is  a  growing  and  strengthen- 
ing evidence  which  God,  of  his  goodness 
has  thus  prepared  for  our  poor.  When- 
soever they  obey  a  direction  of  Scripture, 
and  find  the  accompanying  promise  ful- 
filled, this  is  a  new  proof  that  the  direc- 
tion and  promise  arc  from  God.  The 
book  tells  them  that  blessings  are  to  be 
sought  and  olitaincd  through  the  name 
of  Christ.  They  ask  and  they  receive. 
What  is  this  but  a  witness  that  the  book 
is  divine  1     Would  God  give  his  sanction 


god's  provision  for  the  poor. 


91 


to  a  lie  ?  The  book  assures  tlicm  that 
the  Holy  Spirit  will  gradually  sauctily 
those  who  believe  upon  Jesus.  They 
find  the  sanctihcation  following  on  the 
belief;  and  does  not  this  attest  the  au- 
thority of  the  volume  1  The  book  de- 
clares that  "  all  things  work  together  for 
good,"  Rom.  8  :  28,  to  the  disciples  of 
JcBUS.  They  find  that  prosperity  and 
adversity,  as  each  brings  its  trials,  so 
each  its  lessons  and  supports ;  and 
whilst  God  thus  continually  verifies  a 
declaiation,  can  they  doubt  that  he  made 
it  1  And  thus,  day  by  day,  the  self-evi- 
dencing power  of  Scripture  comes  into 
fuller  operation,  and  experience  multi- 
plies and  strengthens  the  internal  testi- 
m(my.  The  peasant  will  discover  more 
and  more  that  the  Bible  and  the  con- 
science so  fit  into  each  other,  that  the 
artificer  who  made  one  must  have  equal- 
ly fashioned  both.  His  life  will  be  an 
on-going  proof  that  Scripture  is  truth  ; 
for  his  days  and  hours  are  its  chajDters 
and  verses  realized  to  the  letter.  And 
others  may  admire  the  shield  which  the 
industry  and  ingenuity  of  learned  men 
have  thrown  over  Christianity.  They 
may  speak  of  the  solid  rampart  cast  up 
by  the  labor  of  ages ;  and  pronounce 
the  faith  unassailable,  because  history, 
and  philosophy,  and  science  have  all 
combined  to  gird  round  it  the  iron,  and 
the  rock,  of  a  ponderous  and  collossal 
demonstration.  We,  for  our  part,  glory 
most  in  the  fact,  that  Scripture  so  com- 
mends itself  to  the  conscience,  and  ex- 
perience so  bears  out  the  Bible,  that  the 
Gospel  can  go  the  rounds  of  the  world 
and  carry  with  it,  in  all  its  travel,  its 
own  mighty  credentials.  And  though 
we  depreciate  not,  but  rather  confess 
thankfully,  the  worth  of  external  evi- 
dence, we  still  think  it  the  noblest  pro- 
vision of  God,  that  if  the  external  were 
destroyed,  the  internal  would  remain, 
and  uphold  splendidly  Christianity. 
There  is  nothing  which  we  reckon  more 
wonderful  in  arrangement,  nothing  more 
deserving  all  the  warmth  of  our  grati- 
tude, than  that  divine  truth,  by  its  innate 
poAver,  could  compel  the  Corinthian 
sce{)tic,  t  Cor.  14  :  25,  to  fall  down  upon 
his  face  ;  and  that  this  truth,  by  the  same 
innate  power,  can  so  satisfy  a  reader  of 
its  own  origin,  that  ploughmen,  as  well 
as  theologians,  have  reason  for  their 
hope ;  and  the  Christianity  of  villages, 
aa  much  as  the  Christianity  of  universi- 


ties, can  defy  infidelity,  and  hold  on  un- 
daunted by  all  the  bufietings  of  the  ad- 
versary. 

And  if  we  now  sum  up  this  portion 
of  our  argument,  we  may  say,  that  God 
has  so  constructed  his  word  that  it  car- 
ries with  it  its  own  witness  to  the  poor 
man's  intellect,  and  the  poor  man's 
heart.  Thus,  although  it  were  idle  to 
contend  that  the  poor  can  show  you, 
with  a  learned  precision,  the  authenticity 
of  Scripture,  or  call  in  the  aids  which 
philosophy  has  furnished,  or  strengthen 
their  faith  from  the  wondcrwoikings  of 
nature,  or  mount  and  snatch  conviction 
from  the  glittering  tracery  on  the  over- 
head canopy;  still  they  may  feel,  whilst 
perusing  the  Bible,  that  it  so  speaks  to 
the  heart,  that  it  tells  them  so  fully  all 
they  most  want  to  know,  that  it  so  veri- 
fies itself  in  every-day  experience,  that 
it  humbles  them  so  much  and  rejoices 
them  so  much,  that  it  strkes  with  such 
energy  on  every  chord — in  short,  that  it 
so  commends  itself  to  every  faculty  as 
purely  divine — that  they  could  sooner 
believe  that  God  made  not  the  stars, 
than  that  God  wrote  not  the  Scriptures  : 
and  thus,  equipped  with  powerful  ma- 
chinery for  resisting  the  infidel,  they 
give  proof  the  most  conclusive,  that 
"  thou,  O  God,  hast  prepared,  of  thy 
goodness,  for  the  poor." 

Such  are  the  illustrations  which  we 
would  advance  of  the  truth  of  our  text, 
when  reference  is  had  to  spiritual  pro- 
vision. We  shall  only,  in  conclusion, 
commend  the  subject  to  your  earnest 
meditation ;  assuring  you  that  the  more 
it  is  examined,  the  more  it  will  be  found 
fraught  with  interest  and  instruction. 
There  is  something  exquisitely  touching 
in  an  exhibition  of  God  as  providing 
sedulously,  both  in  temporal  and  spir- 
itual things,  for  the  poor  and  illiterate. 
"  The  eyes  of  all  wait  upon  thee,  and 
thou  givest  them  their  meat  in  due  sea- 
son." Psalm  145  :  15.  God  is  that 
man-ellous  being  to  whom  the  only  great 
thing  is  Himself  A  world  is  to  Him 
an  atom,  and  an  atom  is  to  Him  a  world. 
And  as,  therefore,  he  cannot  be  master- 
ed by  what  is  vast  and  enormous,  so  he 
cannot  overlook  what  is  minute  and  in- 
significant. There  is  not,  then,  a  smile 
on  a  poor  man's  cheek,  and  there  is  not 
a  tear  in  a  poor  man's  eye,  either  of 
which  is  independent  on  the  providence 
of  Him  who  gilds  with  the  lustre  of  his 


92 


GUD's  PROVISrONT  FOR  THE  POOR. 


countenance,  the  unlimited  concave,  and 
measures  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  the 
waters  of  fathomless  oceans.  And  that 
"  the  poor  have  the  Gospel  preached  to 
them,"  IMatt.  11  :  5,  is  one  of  the  strong- 
est evidences  on  the  side  of  Christiani- 
ty. It  was  given  to  John  the  Baptist  as 
a  mark  by  wiiich  he  might  prove  Christ 
the  promised  Messiah.  He  might  hence 
learn  that  Jesus  had  come,  not  to  make 
God  known,  exclusively,  to  the  learned 
and  great ;  but  that,  breaking  loose  from 
the  trammels  of  a  figurative  dispensa- 
tion, he  was  dealing  with  the  mechanic 
at  his  wheel,  and  with  the  slave  at  his 
drudgery,  and  with  the  beggar  in  his 
destitution.  Had  Clirist  sent  to  the  im- 
prisoned servant  of  the  Lord,  and  told 
him  he  Avas  fascinating  the  philosopher 
with  sublime  disclosures  of  the  nature 
of  Deity,  and  drawing  after  him  the 
learned  of  the  earth  by  powerful  and 
rhetorical  delineations  of  the  wonders 
of  the  invisible  world ;  that,  all  the 
while,  he  had  no  commvmications  for  the 
poor  and  commonplace  crowd ;  whj', 
J  ohn  might  have  been  dazzled,  for  a  time, 
by  the  splendor  of  his  miracles,  and  he 
might' have  mused,  Avonderingly,  on  the 
displayed  ascendancy  over  diseases  and 
death  ;  but  quickly,  he  must  have  thought 
this  is  not  revealing  God  to  the  igno- 
rant and  destitute,  and  this  cannot  be  the 
religion  designed  for  all  nations  and 
ranks.  But  when  the  announcement  of 
wonder  workings  was  followed  by  the 
declaration  that  glad  tidings  of  deliver- 
ance were  being  published  to  the  poor, 
the  Baptist  would  readily  perceive,  that 
the  long  looked-for  close  to  a  limited 
dispensation  was  contemplated  in  the 
mission  of  .Tesus ;  that  Jesus,  in  short, 
was  introducing  precisely  the  system 
which  Messiah  might  be  expected  to 
introduce ;  and  thus,  finding  that  the 
doctrines  bore  out  the  miracles,  he  would 
admit  at  once  his  pretensions,  not  mere- 
ly because  he  gave  sight  to  the  blind, 
but  because,  pieaching  the  Gospel  to  the 
ignorant,  he  showed  that  God,  of  his 
goodness,  had  prepared  for  the  poor. 

And  that  the  Gfispel  should  be  adapt- 
ed, as  well  as  preached,  to  the  poor — 
adapted  in  credentials  as  well  as  in  doc- 
trines— this  is  one  of  those  arrange- 
ments, which,  as  devised,  show  infinite 
love,  as  executed,  infinite  wisdom. 
Who  will  deny  that  God  hath  thrown 
himself  into  Christianity,  even  as  into  the 


system  of  the  visible  universe,  since  tht 
meanest  can  trace  his  footsteps,  and  feel 
themselves  environed  with  the  march- 
ings of  the  Eternal  One  1  Oh,  we  do 
think  it  cause  of  mighty  gratulation.  in 
days  when  infidelity,  no  longer  confining 
itself  to  lilerary  circles,  has  gone  down 
to  the  homes  and  haunts  of  our  peasan- 
try, and  seeks  to  prosecute  an  inijiious 
crusade  amongst  the  veiy  lowest  of  our 
peoj^le — we  do  think  it  cause  of  mighty 
gratulation,  that  God  shoTild  have  thus 
garrisoned  the  poor  against  the  inroads 
of  scepticism.  We  have  no  fears  for 
the  vital  and  substantial  Christianity  of 
the  humbler  classes  of  society.  They 
may  seem,  at  first  sight,  imequipped  for 
the  combat.  On  a  human  calculation,  it 
might  mount  almost  to  a  certainty,  that 
infidel  publications,  or  infidel  men,  work- 
ing their  way  into  the  cottages  of  the 
land,  would  gain  an  easy  victory,  and 
bear  down,  Avithout  difficulty,  the  faith 
and  piety  of  the  unprepared  inmates. 
But  God  has  had  a  care  for  the  poor  of 
the  flock.  He  loves  them  too  well  to 
leave  them  defenceless.  And  noAv — 
appealing  to  that  witness  which  every 
one  who  believes  will  find  in  himself — 
we  can  feel  that  the  Christianity  of  the 
illiterate  has  in  it  as  much  of  stamina  as 
the  Christianity  of  the  educated  ;  and 
we  can,  therefore,  be  confident  that  the 
scepticism  which  shrinks  from  the  batte- 
ries of  the  learned  theologian,  will  gain 
no  triumphs  at  the  firesides  of  our  God- 
fearing rustics. 

We  thank  thee,  O  Father  of  heaven 
and  earth,  that  thou  hast  thus  made  tho 
Gospel  of  thy  Son  its  own  witness,  and 
its  own  rampart.  We  thank  thee  that 
thou  didst  so  breathe  thyself  into  apos- 
tles and  prophets,  that  their  wi-itings 
are  thine  utterance,  and  declared  to  all 
ages  thine  authorship.  And  now,  what 
have  we  to  ask,  but  that,  if  there  be  one 
here  who  has  hitherto  been  stouthearted 
and  unbelieving,  the  delivered  word 
may  prove  itself  divine,  by  "  piercing 
even  to  the  dividing  asunder  of  soul  and 
spirit ;"  Heb.  4  :  12 ;  and  that,  whilst 
we  announce  that  "God  is  angry  Avith 
the  wicked ;"  Psalm  7:11;  that  those 
Avho  forget  Him  shall  be  turned  into 
hell ;  but  that,  nevertheless,  he  hath  "  so 
loved  the  Avorld  as  to  give  his  only-be* 
gotten  Son,"  John,  3  :  16,  for  its  re- 
demption— oh,  Ave  ask  that  the  careless 
one,  hearing  truths  at  once  so  terrifying. 


ST.  PAUL  A  TENT-MAKER. 


93 


and  so  encouraging  may  be  humbled  to 
the  dust,  and  yet  animated  with  hope ; 
and  tliat,  stirred  by  the  divinity  which 
embodies  itself"  in  the  message,  he  may 
flee,    "  poor   in    spirit,"  Mat.   5:3,   to 


Jesus,  and,  drawing  out  of  his  fulness, 
be  enabled  to  testify  to  all  around,  that 
"  thou,  O  God,  hast  of  thy  goodness  pre- 
pared for  the  poor." 


SEEMON  IX. 


ST.   PAUL   A   TENT-MAKER. 


•  And  because  lio  was  of  the  same  craft,  he  abode  with  them  and  wrought,  for  by  their  occupation  they  were  tent 

makers." — ^Acts,  xviii.  3. 


The  argument  which  may  be  drawn, 
in  support  of  Christianity,  from  the 
humble  condition  of  its  earliest  teachers, 
is  often,  and  fairly,  insisted  on  in  dispu- 
tations with  the  sceptic.  We  scarcely 
know  a  finer  vantage-ground,  on  which 
the  champion  of  truth  can  plant  himself, 
than  that  of  the  greater  credulity  which 
must  be  shown  in  the  rejection,  than 
in  the  reception,  of  chiistianity.  We 
mean  to  assert,  in  spite  of  the  tauntings 
of  those  most  thorough  of  all  bondsmen, 
free-thinkers,  that  the  faith  required 
from  deniers  of  revelation  is  far  larger 
than  that  demanded  from  its  advocates. 
He  who  thinks  that  the  setting  up  of 
Christianity  may  satisfactorily  be  accoun- 
ted for  on  the  supposition  of  its  false- 
hood, taxes  credulity  a  vast  deal  more 
than  he  who  believes  all  the  prodigies, 
and  all  the  miracles,  recorded  in  Scrip- 
ture. The  most  marvellous  of  all  pro- 
digies, and  the  most  surpassing  of  all 
miracles,  would  be  the  progi'ess  of  the 
christian  religion,  .supposing  it  untrue. 
And,  assuredly,  he  who  has  wrought 
oimself  into  the  belief  that  such  a  won- 
der has  been  exhibited,  can  have  no 
right  to  boast  himself  shrewder,  and 
more  cautious,  than  he  who  holds,  that, 
at  human  bidding,  the  sun  stood  still,  or 


that  tempests  were  hushed,  and  graves 
rifled,  at  the  command  of  one  "  found  in 
fashion  "  as  ourselves.  The  fact  that 
Christianity  strode  onward  with  a  resist- 
less march,  making  triumphant  way 
against  the  banded  power,  and  learning, 
and  jDrejudices  of  the  world — this  fact, 
we  say,  requir-es  to  be  accounted  for ; 
and  inasmuch  as  there  is  no  room  for 
questioning  its  accuracy,  we  ask,  in  all 
I  justice,  to  be  furnished  with  its  expla- 
nation. We  turn,  naturally,  from  the 
result  to  the  engines  by  which,  to  all 
human  appearance,  the  result  was 
brought  round  ;  from  the  system  preach- 
ed to  the  preachers  themselves.  Were 
those  who  first  propounded  Christianity 
men  who,  from  station  in  society,  and 
influence  over  their  fellows,  were  likely 
to  succeed  in  palming  falsehood  on  the 
world  ]  Were  they  possessed  of  such 
machinery  of  intelligence,  and  wealth, 
and  might,  and  science,  that — every  al- 
lowance being  made  for  human  credu- 
lity and  human  infatuation — there  would 
api)ear  the  very  lowest  probability,  that, 
having  forged  a  lie,  they  could  have 
caused  it  speedily  to  be  venerated  as 
truth,  and  carried  along  the  earth's 
diameter  amid  the  worshippings  of  thou- 
sands of  the  earth's  population  1     We 


94 


ST.  PAUL  A  TENT-MAKER. 


have  no  intention,  on  the  present  oc- 
casion, of  pursuing  the  argument.  But 
we  are  persuaded  that  no  candid  mind 
can  observe^  the  speed  with  wliich  Christi- 
anity overran  the  civilized  world,  com- 
pelling the  homage  of  kings,  and  casting 
down  the  altars  of  long  cherished  super- 
stitions ;  and  tlicn  compare  the  means 
with  the  eflect — the  apostles,  men  of 
low  birth,  and  poor  education,  backed 
by  no  authority,  and  possessed  of  none 
of  those  high-wrought  endowments 
which  mark  out  the  achievers  of  diffi- 
cult enterprise — we  are  jiersuaded,  we 
say,  that  no  candid  mind  can  set  what  is 
done  side  by  side  with  the  apparatus 
through  which  it  was  effected,  and  not 
confess,  that  of  all  incredible  things,  the 
most  incredible  would  be,  that  a  few 
fishermen  of  Galilee  vanquished  the 
world,  upheaving  its  idolatries,  and  mas- 
tering its  prejudices,  and  yet  that  their 
only  weapon  was  a  lie,  their  only  me- 
chanism jugglery  and  deceit. 

And  this  it  is  which  the  sceptic  be- 
lieves. Yea,  on  his  belief  of  this  he 
grounds  claims  to  a  sounder,  and 
shrewder,  and  less  fettered  understand- 
ing, than  belongs  to  the  mass  of  his  fel- 
lows. He  deems  it  the  mark  of  a  weak 
and  ill  disciplined  intellect  to  admit  the 
truth  of  Christ's  raising  the  dead  ;  but 
appeals  in  proof  of  a  stanch  and  well- 
informed  mind,  to  his  belief  that  this 
whole  planet  was  convulsed  by  the  blow 
of  an  infant.  He  scorns  the  narrow- 
mindedness  of  submission  to  Avhat  he 
calls  priestcraft ;  but  counts  himself 
large-minded,  because  he  admits  that  a 
priestcraft,  only  worthy  his  contempt, 
ground  into  powder  every  system  which 
he  thinks  worthy  of  his  admiration.  He 
laughs  at  the  credulity  of  supposing  that 
God  had  to  do  with  the  institution  of 
Christianity  ;  and  then  applauds  the  so- 
;  briety  of  referring  to  chance  what  bears 
all  the  marks  of  design — proving  him- 
self jational  by  holding  that  causes  are 
not  necessary  to  effects. 

Thus  we  recur  to  our  position,  that 
if  the  charge  of  credulity  must  be  fast- 
ened on  cither  the  opponents,  or  the 
advocates,  of  Christianity,  then,  of  the 
two,  the  opponents  lie  vastly  open  to 
the  accusation.  Men  pretend  to  a  more 
than  ordinary  wisdom  because  they  re- 
ject, as  incredible,  occurrences  and 
transactions  which  others  account  for  as 
supernatural.     But  where  is  their  much- 


vaunted  wisdom,  when  it  can  be  sho^vn 
to  a  demonstration,  that  they  admit 
things  a  thousand-fold  stranger  than 
those,  which,  with  all  the  parade  of  in- 
tellectual superiority,  they  throw  from 
them  as  too  monstrous  for  credence  ? 
We  give  it  you  as  a  truth,  susceptible 
of  the  rigor  of  mathematical  proof,  that 
the  phenomena  of  Christianity  can  only 
be  explained  by  conceding  its  divinity. 
If  Christianity  came  from  God,  there  is 
an  agency  adequate  to  the  result ;  and 
you  can  solve  its  making  way  amongst 
the  nations.  But  if  Christianity  came 
not  from  God,  no  agency  can  be  assign 
ed  at  all  commensurate  with  the  result ; 
and  you  cannot  account  for  its  march- 
ings over  the  face  of  the  earth.  So  that 
when — setting  aside  every  other  consid- 
ei'ation — we  mark  the  j^alpable  unfit- 
ness of  the  apostles  for  devising  and 
caiTying  into  effect,  a  grand  scheme  of 
imposture,  we  feel  that  we  do  right  in 
retorting  on  the  sceptic,  the  often  urged 
charge  of  credulity.  We  tell  him,  that 
if  it  prove  a  clear-sighted  intellect,  to 
believe  that  unsupported  men  would 
league  in  an  enterprise  which  was  noth- 
ing less  than  a  crusade  against  the 
world  ;  that  ignorant  men  could  concoct 
a  system  overpassing,  confessedly,  the 
wisdom  of  the  noblest  of  the  heathen  ; 
and  that  the  insignificant  and  une(juip- 
ped  band  would  go  through  fire  and 
water,  brave  the  lion  and  dare  the  stake, 
knowing,  all  the  while,  that  they  battled 
for  a  lie,  and  crowned,  all  the  while, 
with  overpowering  success — ay,  we  tell 
the  sceptic,  that,  if  a  belief  such  as  this 
prove  a  clear-sighted  intellect,  he  is 
welcome  to  the  laurels  of  reason ;  and 
we,  for  our  part,  shall  contentedly  herd 
with  the  irrational,  who  are  weak 
enough  to  think  it  credible  that  the 
apostles  were  messengers  from  God 
— and  only  incredible  that  mountains 
fell  when  there  was  nothing  to  shake 
them,  and  oceans  dried  uj)  when  there 
was  nothing  to  drain  them,  and  that  there 
passed  over  a  creation  an  unmeasured 
revolution  without  a  cause,  and  without 
a  mover,  and  without  a  Deity. 

Now  we  have  advanced  these  hurried 
remarks  on  a  well  known  topic  of  (;hris- 
tian  advocacy,  because  our  text  leads 
us,  as  it  were,  into  the  wi/rkshop  of  the 
first  teachers  of  our  faith,  and  thus  for- 
ces on  us  the  contemplation  of  their 
lowly  and  destitute  e3';ate.      It  is  not 


ST.  PAUL  A  TENT-MAKER. 


95 


however,  our  design  to  pursue  further 
the  argument.  We  may  derive  other, 
and  not  less  important,  lessons  from  the 
fiimple  exhibition  of  Paul,  and  Aipiila, 
and  Priscilla,  plying  their  occupation  as 
tent-makers.  It  should  just  be  pre- 
mised, that,  so  far  as  Paul  himself  is 
concerned,  w^e  must  set  down  his  labor- 
ing for  a  living  as  actually  a  consequence 
on  his  preaching  Christianity.  Before 
he  engaged  in  the  service  of  Christ,  he 
had  occupied  a  station  in  the  upper 
walks  of  society,  and  was  not,  we  may 
believe,  dependent  on  his  industry  for 
his  bread.  It  was,  however,  the  custom 
of  the  Jews  to  teach  children,  whatever 
the  rank  of  their  parents,  some  kind  of 
handicraft ;  so  that,  in  case  of  a  reverse 
of  circumstances,  they  might  have  a  re- 
source to  which  to  betake  themselves. 
We  conclude  that,  in  accordance  with 
this  custom,  St.  Paul,  as  a  boy,  had  leai"n- 
ed  the  art  of  tent-making ;  though  he 
may  not  have  exercised  it  for  a  subsis- 
tence until  he  had  spent  all  in  the  ser- 
vice of  Jesus.  We  appeal  not,  there- 
fore, to  the  instance  of  this  great  apos- 
tle to  the  Gentiles  as  confirming,  in 
every  respect,  our  foregoing  argument. 
St.  Paul  was  eminent  both  for  learning 
and  talent.  And  it  would  not,  therefore, 
be  just  to  reason  from  his  presumed 
incompetency  to  carry  on  a  difficult 
scheme,  since,  at  the  least,  he  was  not 
disqualified  for  undertakings  which 
crave  a  master-spirit  at  their  head.  It 
is  certain,  however,  that,  in  these  re- 
spects, St.  Paul  was  an  exception  to  the 
rest  of  the  first  preachers  of  Christianity. 
Our  general  reasoning,  therefore,  re- 
mains quite  unaffected,  whatever  be 
urged  in  regard  to  a  particular  case. 

But  we  have  already  said,  that  the 
main  business  of  our  discourse  is  to  de- 
rive other  lessons  from  our  text  than 
that  which  refers  to  the  evidences  of 
Christianity.  We  waive,  therefore,  fur- 
ther inquiry  into  that  proof  of  the  divin- 
ity of  the  system  which  is  furnished  by 
the  poverty  of  the  teachers.  We  will 
sit  down,  as  it  were,  by  St.  Paul  whilst 
busied  with  his  tent-making ;  and,  con- 
sidering who  and  what  the  individual  is 
who  thus  lives  by  his  artisanship,  draw 
that  instruction  from  the  scene  which 
we  may  suppose  it  intended  to  furnish. 
Now  called  as  St.  Paul  had  been  by 
miracle  to  the  apostleship  of  Christ,  so 
that  he  was  suddenly  transformed  from 


a  persecutor  into  a  preacher  of  the  faith, 
we  might  well  look  to  find  in  him  a  pre- 
eminent zeal;  just  as  though  the  un- 
earthly light,  which  flashed  across  his 
path,  had  entered  into  his  heart,  and  lit 
up  there  a  fire  inextinguishable  by  the 
deepest  waters  of  trouble.  And  it  is 
beyond  all  peradventure,  that  there  ne- 
ver moved  upon  our  earth  a  heartier, 
more  unwearied,  more  energetic,  disci- 
ple of  Jesus.  His  motto  was  to  "  count 
all  things  but  loss  for  the  excellency  of 
the  knowledge  of  Christ ;  "  Phil.  2:8; 
and  crossing  seas,  and  exhausting  con- 
tinents, till  a  vast  portion  of  the  known 
world  had  heard  from  his  lips  the  ti- 
dings of  redemption,  he  proved  the  motto 
engraven  on  his  soul,  and  showed  that 
the  desire  of  bringing  the  perishing  into 
acquaintance  with  a  Savior  was  nothing 
less  than  the  life's  blood  of  his  system. 
And  we  are  bound  to  suppose,  that, 
where  there  existed  so  glowing  a  zeal, 
prompting  him  to  be  "  instant  in  season, 
out  of  season,"  2  Tim.  4  :  2,  the  irk- 
someness  of  mechanical  labor  must  have 
been  greater  than  it  is  easy. to  compute. 
Since  the  whole  soul  was  wrapped  up 
in  the  work  of  the  ministry,  it  could  not 
have  been  without  a  feeling,  amounting 
almost  to  painfulness,  that  the  apostle 
abstracted  himself  from  the  business  of 
his  embassage,  and  toiled  at  providing 
for  his  own  bodily  necessities.  We  see, 
at  once,  that  so  far  as  any  appointment 
of  God  could  be  grievous  to  a  man  of 
St.  Paul's  exemplary  holiness,  this  ap- 
pointment must  have  been  hard  to  en 
dure  :  and  we  cannot  contemplate  the 
great  apostle,  withdrawn  from  the  spirit- 
stiiTing  scenes  of  his  combats  with  idol- 
atry, and  earning  a  meal  like  a  common 
artificer,  and  not  feel,  that  the  effort  of 
addressing  the  Athenians,  congregated 
on  Areopagus,  was  as  nothing  to  that  of 
sitting  down  patiently  to  all  the  drudg- 
ery of  the  craftsman. 

But  we  go  on  to  infer  from  these  un- 
questionable facts,  that,  unless  there  had 
been  great  ends  which  St.  Paul's  labor- 
ing subserved,  God  would  not  have  per- 
mitted this  sore  exercise  of  his  servant. 
There  is  allotted  to  no  christian  a  trial 
without  a  reason.  And  if  then  we  are 
once  certified,  that  the  working  for  his 
bread  was  a  trial  to  St.  Paul,  we  must 
go  forward  and  investigate  the  reasons 
of  the  appointment. 

Now  we  learn  from  the  epistles  of  St. 


96 


ST.  PAUL  A  TENT-MAKER. 


Paul,  that  when  he  refused  to  be  main- 
tained by  the  churches  which  he  plant- 
ed, it  was  through  fear  that  the  success 
of  liis  preaching  might  be  interfered 
with  by  suspicions  of  his  disinterested- 
ness. He  chose  to  give  the  Gospel 
without  cost,  in  order  that  his  enemies 
might  have  no  plea  for  representing  him 
as  an  hireling,  and  thus  depi'eciating  his 
message.  In  this  respect  he  appears  to 
have  acted  dilVercntly  from  the  other 
apostles,  since  we  find  him  thus  expos- 
tulating with  the  Coi'inthians  :  "  have 
we  not  power  to  eat  and  to  drink  1  or  I 
only  and  Barnabas,  liave  not  we  power 
to  forbear  working  1 "  1  Cor.  9  :  4,  6. 
He  evidently  argues,  that,  had  he  so 
pleased,  he  might  justly  have  done  what 
his  fellow-apostles  did,  receive  tempo- 
ral benefits  fi'ora  those  to  whom  they 
were  the  instruments  of  communicating 
spiritual.  It  was  a  law,  whose  justice 
admitted  not  of  controversy,  that  "  the 
laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire."  1  Tim. 
5 :  18,  And,  therefore,  however  cir- 
cumstances might  arise,  rendering  it  ad- 
visable that  the  right  should  be  waived, 
St.  Paul  desired  the  Corinthians  to  un- 
derstand, that,  had  he  chosen,  he  might 
have  claimed  the  sustenance  for  which 
he  was  contented  to  toil.  It  was  a  right, 
and  not  a  favor,  which  he  waived.  And 
if  there  were  no  other  lesson  deducible 
fi-om  the  manual  occupation  of  the  apos- 
tle, we  should  do  well  to  ponder  the  di- 
rection thus  practically  given,  that  we 
remove  all  occasions  of  offence.  St. 
Paul  gave  up  even  his  rights,  fearing 
lest  their  enforcement  might  possibly 
impede  the  progress  of  the  Gospel.  So 
single-eyed  was  this  great  teacher  of  the 
Gentiles,  that  when  the  reception  of  the 
message,  and  the  maintenance  of  the 
messenger,  seemed  at  all  likely  to  clash, 
he  would  gladly  devote  the  day  to  the 
service  of  others,  and  then  toil  through 
the  night  to  make  provision  for  himself 
If  ever,  therefore,  it  happen,  cither  to 
minister  or  to  people,  to  find  that  the 
pushing  a  claim,  or  the  insisting  on  a 
right  would  bring  discredit,  though  un- 
justly and  wrongfully,  on  the  cause  of 
religion  ;  let  it  be  remembered  that  our 
prime  business,  as  professors  of  godli- 
ness, is  with  the  glory  of  God  and  the 
advance  of  the  Gospel ;  that  the  avoid- 
ing evil  is  a  great  thing,  but  that  the 
scriptural  requisition  is,  that  we  avoid 
even  the  "  appearance  of  evil."  1  Thess. 


5  :  22.  And  if  there  seem  to  us  a  hard- 
ness in  this,  so  that  we  count  it  too 
much  of  concession,  that  we  fall  back 
from  demands  which  strict  justice  would 
waiTant,  let  us  betake  ourselves,  for  an 
instant,  to  the  workshop  of  St.  Paul ;  and 
there  remembering,  A\hilst  this  servant 
of  Christ  is  fashioning  the  canvass,  that 
he  labors  for  bread,  which,  by  an  indis- 
putable title,  is  already  his  own,  we  may 
learn  it  a  christian's  duty  to  allow  him- 
self to  be  wronged,  when,  by  stanch 
standing  to  his  rights,  Christ's  cause  may 
be  injured. 

But  as  yet  we  are  only  on  the  out- 
skirts of  our  sxibject.  The  grand  field 
of  inquiry  still  remains  to  be  traversed. 
We  have  seen,  that,  in  order  to  foreclose 
all  question  of  his  sincerity  and  disinter- 
estedness, St.  Paul  chose  to  ply  at  his 
tent-making  rather  than  derive  a  mainte- 
nance from  his  preaching.  We  next  ob- 
serve, that,  had  not  his  poverty  been  on 
other  accounts  advantageous,  we  can 
scarcely  think  that  this  single  reason 
would  have  procured  its  permission. 
He  might  have  refused  to  draw  an  in- 
come from  his  converts,  and  yet  not  have 
been  necessitated  to  betake  himself  to 
handicraft.  We  know  that  God  could 
have  poured  in  upon  him,  through  a 
thousand  channels,  the  means  of  subsis- 
tence ;  and  we  believe,  therefore,  that 
had  his  toiling  subsciTed  no  end  but  the 
removal  of  causes  of  offence,  his  wants 
would  have  been  supplied,  though  with- 
out any  burden  on  the  churches.  So 
that  the  question  comes  before  us,  un- 
solved and  unexamined,  why  was  it  per- 
mitted that  St.  Paul,  in  the  midst  of  his 
exertions  as  a  minister  of  Christ,  should 
be  compelled  to  support  himself  by  man- 
ual occupation  ]  We  think  that  two 
great  reasons  may  be  advanced,  each  of 
which  will  deserve  a  careful  examina- 
tion. In  the  first  jilace,  God  hereby  put 
much  honor  upon  industry :  in  the  se 
cond  place,  God  hereby  showed,  that 
where  he  has  appointed  means,  he  will 
not  work  by  miracles.  We  will  take 
these  reasons  in  succession,  proceeding 
at  once  to  endeavor  to  prove,  that,  in 
leaving  St.  Paul  to  toil  as  a  tent-maker, 
God  put  much  honor  upon  industry. 

Now  it  is  true  that  the  appointment, 
"  in  the  sweat  of  thy  face  shalt  thou  eat 
bread,"  Gen.  3  :  19,  was  part  of  the  ori- 
ginal malediction  which  apbstacy  caused 
to  be  breathed  over  this  creation.     But 


ST.  PAUL  A  TENT-MAKER. 


OT 


It  is  equally  true  that  labor  was  God's 
ordinance  whilst  man  kept  unsullied  his 
loyalty,  and  that  it  was  not  bound  upon 
our  race  as  altogether  a  consequence 
on  transgression.  We  may  not  be- 
lieve that  in  paradise  labor  could  ever 
have  been  wearisome ;  but  we  know 
that,  from  the  first,  labor  was  actually 
man's  business.  We  are  told,  in  the 
book  of  Genesis,  that  when  the  Lord 
God  had  planted  the  garden,  and  fash- 
ioned man  after  his  own  image,  "  he 
took  the  man  and  put  him  into  the  gar- 
den, to  dress  it,  and  to  keep  it."  Gen.  2  : 
15.  There  was  no  curse  upon  the 
ground  ;  and,  therefore,  we  suppose  not 
that  it  required,  ere  it  would  give  forth 
a  produce,  the  processes  of  a  diligent 
husbandry.  But,  nevertheless,  it  is 
clear  that  the  resting  of  God's  first 
blessing  on  the  soil,  put  not  aside  all 
necessity  of  cultui'e.  Man  was  a  labor- 
er from  the  beginning :  God's  earliest 
ordinance  appearing  to  have  been  that 
man  should  not  be  an  idler.  So  that 
whilst  we  admit  that  all  that  painfulness 
and  exhaustion,  which  waits  ordinarily 
upon  human  occupation,  must  be  traced 
up  to  disobedience  as  a  parent,  we  con- 
tend that  employment  is  distinctly  God's 
institution  for  mankind,  no  reference 
whatsoever  being  made  to  the  innocence 
or  guiltiness  of  the  race.  God  sancti- 
fied the  seventh  day  as  a  day  of  rest,  be- 
fore Adam  disobeyed,  and  thus  marked 
out  six  days  as  days  of  labor  and  em- 
ployment, before  sin  sowed  the  seeds  of 
the  thorn  and  the  thistle.  We  may  sup- 
pose, that,  previously  to  the  fall,  labor, 
so  to  speak,  was  just  one  department  of 
piety ;  and  that  in  tilling  the  ground,  or 
watching  the  herds,  man  was  as  religi- 
ously occupied  as  when  communing  with 
God  in  distinct  acts  of  devotion.  The 
great  and  fatal  alteration  which  sin  has 
introduced  into  labor,  is,  that  a  wide 
separation  has  been  made  between  tem- 
poral business  and  spiritual ;  so  that, 
whilst  engaged  in  providing  for  the  body, 
we  seem  wholly  detached  from  paying 
attention  to  the  concerns  of  the  soul. 
But  we  hold  it  of  first-rate  importance 
to  teach  men  that  this  separation  is  of 
their  own  making,  and  not  of  God's  ap- 
pointing. God  ordained  labor  :  and  God 
\  also  ordained  that  man's  great  business 
on  earth  should  be  to  secure  his  soul's 
safety  through  eternity.  And  unless, 
therefore,  we  admit  that  the  work  of  the 


soul's  salvation  may  bo  actually  advanced 
l)y,  and  through,  our  worldly  occupations, 
we  set  one  ordinance  of  God  against  an- 
other, and  represent  ourselves  as  imped- 
ed, by  the  appointments  of  our  Maker, 
in  the  very  business  most  pressed  on 
our  performance.  The  matter-of-fact  is, 
that  God  may  as  truly  be  served  by  the 
husbandman  whilst  ploughing  up  his 
ground,  and  by  the  manufacturer  whilst 
toiling  at  his  loom,  and  by  the  merchant 
whilst  engaged  in  his  commerce,  as  he 
can  be  by  any  of  these  men  when  gath- 
ered by  the  Sabbath  bell  to  the  solemn 
assembly.  It  is  a  perfect  libel  on  reli- 
gion, to  represent  the  honest  trades  of 
mankind  as  aught  else  but  the  various 
methods  in  which  God  may  be  honored 
and  obeyed.  We  do  not  merely  mean 
that  worldly  occupations  may  be  follow- 
ed without  harm  done  to  the  soul. 
This  would  be  no  vindication  of  God's 
ordinance  of  labor.  We  mean  that  they 
maybe  followed  with  benefit  to  the  soul. 
When  God  led  the  eastern  magi  to 
Christ,  he  led  them  by  a  star.  He  at- 
tacked them,  so  to  speak,  through  the 
avenue  of  their  profession.  Their  great 
employment  was  that  of  observing  the 
heavenly  bodies.  And  God  sanctified 
their  astronomy.  He  might  have  taught 
them  by  other  methods  which  seem  to 
us  more  direct.  But  it  pleased  Him  to 
put  honor  on  their  occupation,  and  to 
write  his  lessons  in  that  glittering  alpha- 
bet with  which  their  studies  had  made 
them  especially  conversant.  We  be- 
lieve, in  like  manner,  that  if  men  went 
to  their  daily  employments  with  some- 
thing of  the  temper  which  they  bring  to 
the  oi-dinances  of  grace,  expecting  to 
receive  messages  from  God  throu2:h 
trade,  and  through  labor,  as  well  as 
through  preaching  and  a  communion, 
there  would  be  a  vast  advancing  towards 
spiritual  excellence  ;  and  men's  experi- 
ence would  be,  that  the  Almighty  can 
bring  them  into  acquaintance  with  him- 
s-elf,  by  the  ploughshare,  and  the  bal- 
ances, and  the  cargo,  no  less  than  by  the 
homily,  and  the  closet  exercises,  and 
the  public  devotions.  There  would  be 
an  anticipation  of  the  glorious  season, 
sketched  out  by  prophecy,  when  "  there 
shall  be  upon  the  bells  of  the  horses, 
holiness  unto  the  Lord,  and  the  pots  in 
the  Loi'd's  house  shall  be  like  the  bowls 
before  the  altar."  Zechariah,  14  :  20. 
We  give  this  as  our  belief;  and  we 
13 


98 


ST.  PAUL  A  TENT-MAKER. 


advance  as  our  reason,  the  fact  that  la- 
bor is  the  ordinance  of  God.  AVe  will 
not  have  industry  set  against  piety  ;  as 
though  the  little  time  which  men  can 
snatch  from  secular  engagements  were 
the  only  time  which  they  can  give  to 
their  Maker.  They  may  give  all  to 
God,  and,  nevertheless,  be  compelled  to 
rise  early,  and  late  take  rest,  in  order  to 
earn  a  scanty  subsistence.  And  we 
think,  that,  in  placing  an  apostle  under 
the  necessity  of  laboring  for  bread,  G  od 
assigned  precisely  that  character  to  in- 
dustry for  which  we  contend.  We 
leai-n,  from  the  exhibition  of  our  text, 
that  there  is  no  inconsistency  between 
the  being  a  devoted  servant  of  Christ, 
and  the  following  assiduously  a  toilsome 
occupation.  Nay,  we  learn  that  it  may 
be,  literally,  as  the  servant  of  Christ 
that  man  follows  the  occupation  ;  for  it 
•was,  as  we  have  shown  you,  with  deci- 
ded reference  to  the  interests  of  religion, 
that  St.  Paul  joined  Aquila  and  Priscil- 
la  in  tent-making.  At  the  least,  there 
is  a  registered  demonstration  in  the  case 
of  this  apostle,  that  unwearied  industry 
— for  he  elsewhere  declares  that  he  la- 
bored day  and  night — may  consist  with 
pre-eminent  piety ;  and  that,  so  far  from 
the  pressure  of  secular  employment  be- 
ing a  valid  excuse  for  slow  progi'ess  in 
godliness,  a  man  may  have  to  struggle 
against  absolute  pauperism,  and  yet 
grow,  every  moment,  a  more  admirable 
christian.  Oh,  there  is  something  in  this 
representation  of  the  honor  put  by  God 
upon  industry,  which  should  tell  power- 
fully on  the  feelings  of  those  to  whom 
life  is  one  loner  striving  for  the  means  of 
subsistence.  It  were  as  nothing  to  tell 
men,  you  may  be  good  christians  in 
spite  of  your  engrossing  employments. 
The  noble  truth  is,  that  these  employ- 
ments may  be  so  many  helpers  on  of  re- 
ligion ;  and  that,  in  place  of  serving  as 
leaden  weights,  which  retard  a  disciple 
in  his  celestial  career,  they  may  be  as 
the  well-plumed  wings,  accelerating  glo- 
riously the  onward  progress.  In  labor- 
ing to  support  himself,  St.  Paul  labored 
to  advance  Christ's  cause.  And  though 
thei-e  be  not  always  the  same  well  de- 
fined connection  between  our  toils  for  a 
livelihood  and  the  interests  of  religion, 
yet,  let  a  connection  be  practically  sought 
after,  and  it  will  always  be  practically 
found.  The  case  exists  not  in  which, 
after  making  it  obligatory  on  a  man  that 


he  work  for  his  bread,  God  has  not  ar- 
ranged, that,  in  thus  working,  he  may 
work  also  for  the  well-being  of  his  soul. 
If  ever,  therefore,  we  met  with  an  in- 
dividual who  pleaded  that  there  were 
already  so  many  calls  upon  his  time  that 
he  could  not  find  leisure  to  give  heed  to 
religion,  we  should  not  immediately  bear 
down    upon    him    with    the    charge — 
though  it  might  be  a  just  one — of  an 
undue   pursuit   of   the   things    of  this 
earth.     We  should  only  require  of  him 
to  show   that   his    employments    were 
scripturally  lawful,  both  in  nature  and 
intenseness.     We  should  then  meet  him 
at  once,  on  the  ground  of  this  lawfulness. 
We  should  tell  him  that  emplo}Tnents 
were  designed  to  partake  of  the  nature 
of  sacraments  ;    that,  in  place  of  their 
being  excuses  for  his  not  serving  God, 
they  were  appointed  as  instruments  by 
which  he  might  serve  Him ;   and  that, 
consequently,  it  was    only  because   he 
had  practically  dissolved  a  partnership 
which   the  Almighty   had  formed,  the 
partnership  between  industry  and  piety, 
that  he  was  driving  on,  with  a  reckless 
speed,    to    a  disastrous    and   desperate 
bankruptcy.       And  if  he  pretended  to 
doubt  that  piety  and  industry  have  thus 
been  associated  by  God,  Ave  would  take 
him  with  us  into  the  woi-k-chamber  of 
St.  Paul ;    and    there  showing  him  the 
apostle  toiling  against  want,  and  yet,  in 
toiling,  serving  Christ  Jesus — subsisting 
by  his  artisanship,  and  yet  feeding  the 
zeal  of  his  soul  by  and  through  his  Ja- 
bors   for  the  supjiort  of  his  body — we 
would    tell    the  questioner,  that   God 
thus  caused  a  mighty  specimen  to  be 
given  of    an   instituted  connection  be- 
tween secular  employment  and  spirit- 
ual improvement ;  and  whilst  we  send 
him  to  the  writings    of  St.  Paul    that 
he  may  learn  what  it   is    to  be  indus- 
triously   religious,     we    send    him     to 
the    tent-making    of  St.  Paul    that    he 
may  learn  what  it  is  to  be  religiously 
industrious. 

Now  we  might  insist  at  greater  length, 
if  not  pressed  by  the  remainder  of  our 
subject,  on  the  honor  which  God  put  up- 
on industry  when  he  left  St.  Paul  to  toil 
for  a  maintenance.  But  we  leave  thia 
point  to  be  further  pondered  in  your  pri- 
vate meditations.  We  go  on,  according 
to  the  arrangements  of  our  discourse, 
to  open  up  the  second  reason  which  we 
ventured  to  assign  for  this  allowed  de« 


ST.  PAUL  A  TENT-MAKER. 


99 


pendence  of  an  apostle  upon  labor  for 
subsistence. 

We  stated  as  our  second  reason,  tbat 
God  designed  hereby  to  inform  us,  that 
where  he  has  appointed  means  he  will 
not  work  by  miracles.  We  observe  that 
unto  St.  Paul  had  been  given  a  super- 
human energy,  so  that,  when  it  was  re- 
quired as  a  witness  to  his  doctrine,  he 
could  remove  diseases  by  a  word  or  a 
touch,  and  even  restore  life  to  the  dead. 
We  have  no  distinct  information  whe- 
ther men,  thus  supernaturally  equipped, 
could  emjjloy  the  j^ower  at  every  time, 
and  for  every  purpose.  But  it  seems 
most  consistent  with  Scripture  and  rea- 
son to  suppose,  that,  when  specially 
moved  by  God,  they  could  always  work 
miracles ;  but  that,  imless  thus  moved, 
their  strength  went  from  them,  and  they 
remained  no  mightier  than  their  fellows. 
It  does  not  appear  that  apostles  could 
have  recourse  to  wonder-workings  in 
every  exigence  which  might  arise.  At 
least,  it  is  certain  that  apostolical  men, 
such  as  Epaphroditus  and  Timothy,  went 
through  sicknesses,  and  suffered  from 
weaknesses,  without  being  cured  by 
miracle,  and  without,  as  it  would  seem, 
being  taxed  with  deficiency  of  faith,  be- 
cause they  shook  not  oft'  the  malady,  or 
resisted  not  its  approaches.  When  St. 
Paul  writes  to  Timothy  in  regard  to  his 
infirmites,  lie  bids  him  use  wine  as  a 
medicine  ;  he  does  not  tell  him  to  seek 
faith  to  work  a  miracle.  Yet,  beyond 
all  doubt,  Timothy  had  received  the 
gifts  of  the  Spirit.  And  from  this,  and 
other  instances,  we  infer  that  then  only 
could  miracles  be  wrought,  when,  by  a 
distinct  motion  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  faith 
was  directed  to  some  particular  achieve- 
ment. It  did  not  follow  that  because 
St.  Peter,  by  a  word,  had  struck  down 
Ananias,  he  might,  by  a  word,  have  im- 
mediately afterwards  raised  him  up.  It 
was  not  at  his  option  what  direction 
the  miracle-working  faith  should  take. 
Whensoever  a  miracle  was  wrought,  it 
was  wrought,  vmquestionably,  by  faith. 
But  the  faith,  first  given  by  God,  requir- 
ed ever  after  to  be  stirred  into  exercise 
by  God ;  so  that  no  conclusion  could  be 
more  eiToneous,  than  that  faith  must 
have  been  defective,  where  miracle  was 
not  wrought. 

Now  we  advance  these  remarks,  in 
order  to  justify  our  not  claiming  for  St. 
Paul,  what,  at  first  sight,  we  are  disposed 


to  claim,  the  praise  of  extraordinary 
self-denial  in  gaining  his  bread  by  luWor, 
when  he  might  have  gained  it  by  mira- 
cle. We  may  not  suppose,  that  because 
he  displayed  oftentimes  a  super-human 
power,  he  could  necessarily,  had  he 
wished  it,  have  used  that  power  in  sup- 
plying his  bodily  wants.  It  may  seem 
to  us  no  greater  effort,  to  multiply,  as 
Christ  did,  a  loaf  into  hundreds,  than  to 
command,  as  St.  Paul  did,  the  impotent 
man  at  Lysti-a  to  stand  upright  on  his 
feet.  Yet  it  were  a  false  conclusion 
that  the  apostle  might  liave  done  the  one 
as  well  as  the  other. 

The  working  of  miracles  presuppos- 
ed, as  we  have  shown  you,  not  only  God's 
giving  the  faith,  biit  also  God's  permit- 
ting, or  rather  God's  directing,  its  exer- 
cise. AVe  build,  therefore,  no  state- 
ments on  the  supposition  that  St.  Paul 
had  the  power,  but  used  it  not,  of  pro- 
curing food  by  miracle.  We  rather  con- 
clude that  he  had  no  alternative  what- 
ever; so  that,  had  he  not  labored  at 
tent-making,  he  must  have  been  abso- 
lutely destitute.  It  was  not  indeed  be- 
cause deficient  in  faith  that  he  wrought 
not  a  miracle.  He  had  the  faith  by 
which  lofty  hills  might  be  stirred,  pro- 
vided only — and  it  is  this  proviso  v/hich 
men  strangely  overlook — that  he,  who 
had  given  him  the  faith,  directed  him  to 
employ  it  on  up-heaving  the  earth's 
mountains. 

But  we  are  thus  brought  down  to  the 
question,  why  was  St.  Paul  not  permit- 
ted, or  not  directed,  to  use  the  wondei*- 
working  eneigy,  in  place  of  being  ne- 
cessitated to  apply  himself  to  manual 
occupation  ]  We  give  as  our  reply,  that 
God  might  hereby  have  designed  to 
communicate  the  impoitant  truth,  that, 
where  he  has  aj)pointed  means,  we  are 
not  to  look  for  miracles.  Labor  waa 
his  own  ordinance.  So  long,  therefore, 
as  labor  could  be  available  to  the  pro- 
curing subsistence,  he  would  not  super- 
sede this  ordinance  by  miraculous  inter- 
ference. There  is,  perhaps,  no  feature 
more  strongly  charactered  on  God's 
dealings,  whether  in  natural  things  or  in 
spiritual,  than  that  it  is  in  the  use  of 
means,  and  in  this  alone,  that  blessings 
may  be  expected.  We  see  clearly  that 
this  is  God's  procedure  in  reference  to 
the  affairs  of  our  present  state  of  being. 
If  the  husbandman  neglect  the  process- 
es of  agriculture,  there  comes  no  mira- 


ioo 


ST.  PAUL  A  TENT-MAKER. 


cle  to  make  up  this  omission  of  means  ; 
but  harvest-time  finds  barrenness  reign- 
ing over  the  estate.  If  the  merchtmt- 
man  sit  with  his  hands  folded,  when  he 
ought  to  be  busied  with  shipping  his  mer- 
chandise, there  is  nothing  to  be  expected 
but  that  beggary  will  ensue  upon  idle- 
ness. And  we  hold  that  instances  such 
as  these,  so  familiar  that  they  are  often 
overlooked,  must  be  taken  as  illustra- 
tions of  a  great  principle  whose  work- 
ings permeate  all  God's  dispensations. 
We  would  contend  that  there  is  to  be 
traced  in  our  spiritual  affairs  that  very 
honoring  of  means  which  is  thus  observ- 
able in  our  temporal.  We  know  noth- 
ing of  the  fitness,  which  some  men  are 
disposed  to  uphold,  of  waiting  the  effec- 
tual calling  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  so 
of  making  no  effort,  till  iiTesistibly  mov- 
ed, to  escape  from  the  bondage  of  cor- 
ruption. We  know  of  no  scriptural  me- 
thod of  addressing  transgressors  but  as 
free  agents ;  and  we  abjure,  as  unsanc- 
tioned by  the  Bible,  every  scheme  of  the- 
ology which  would  make  men  nothing 
more  than  machines.  It  must  lie  at  the 
foundation  of  all  religion,  whether  nat- 
ural or  revealed,  that  men  are  responsi- 
ble beings  ;  and  responsible  they  cannot 
be,  if  placed  under  an  invincible  moral 
constraint,  which  allows  no  freedom 
whatsoever  of  choice.  And  we  think  it 
a  thing  to  be  sorely  lamented,  that  there 
goes  on  a  battling  about  election  and 
non-election ;  the  combatants  on  each 
side  failing  to  perceive,  that  they  fight 
for  the  ])rofile,  and  not  the  full  face  of 
truth.  It  seems  to  us  as  plain  from  the 
Bible  as  language  can  make  it,  that  God 
hath  elected  a  remnant  to  life.  It  is 
just  as  plain,  that  all  men  are  addressed 
as  capable  of  repenting,  and  at  liberty 
to  choose  for  themselves  between  life 
and  death.  Thus  we  have  scriptural 
warranty  of  God's  election  ;  and  we  have 
also  scriptural  warranty  of  man's  free 
agency.  But  how  can  these  apparently 
opposite  statements  be  reconciled  ]  I 
know  not.  The  Bible  tells  me  not.  But 
because  I  cannot  be  wise  beyond  what 
is  written,  Crod  forbid  that  I  should  re- 
fuse to  be  wise  up  to  what  is  written. 
Scri})ture  reveals,  but  it  does  not  recon- 
cile, the  two.  AVhat  then  ?  I  receive 
both,  and  I  preach  both  ;  God's  election 
and  man's  free  agency.  But  I  should  es- 
teem it  of  all  presumptions  the  boldest  to 
attempt  explanation  of  the  co-existence. 


In  like  manner,  the  Bible  tells  me  ex- 
plicitly that  Christ  was  God;  and  it  tella 
me,  as  explicitly,  that  Chiist  was  man 
It  does  not  go  on  to  state  the  modus  or 
manner  of  the  union.  I  stop,  therefore 
where  the  Bible  stops.  I  bow  before  a 
God-man  as  my  Mediator,  but  I  own  as 
inscrutable  the  mysteries  of  his  person. 

It  is  thus  also  Avith  the  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity.  Three  persons  are  set  before 
me  as  equally  divine.  At  the  same  time, 
I  am  taught  that  thei'e  is  only  one  God. 
How  can  the  three  be  one,  and  the  one 
be  three  ]  Silent  as  the  grave  is  the 
Bible  on  this  wonder.  But  I  do  not  re- 
ject its  speech  because  of  its  silence.  I 
believe  in  three  divine  persons,  because 
told  of  a  Trinity ;  I  believe  in  one  only 
God,  because  told  of  an  Unity  :  but  1 
leave  to  the  developments  of  a  noble 
sphere  of  existence  the  clearing  up  the 
marvel  of  a  Trinity  in  Unity. 

The  admission,  then,  of  the  co-exis- 
tence of  election  and  free-agency  is  but 
the  counterpart  of  many  other  admis- 
sions Avhicli  are  made,  on  all  hands,  by 
the  believers  in  revelation.  And  having 
assured  ourselves  of  this  joint  existence, 
we  see  at  once  that  man's  business  is  to 
set  about  the  work  of  his  salvation,  with 
all  the  ardor,  and  all  the  pains-taking, 
of  one  convinced  that  he  cannot  perish, 
except  through  his  own  fault.  We  ad- 
dress him  as  an  immortal  creature  whose 
destinies  are  in  his  own  keeping.  We 
will  hear  nothing  of  a  secret  decree  of 
God,  insuring  him  a  safe  passage  to  a 
haven  of  rest,  or  leaving  him  to  go  down 
a  wreck  in  the  whirlpool.  But  we  tell 
him  of  a  command  of  God,  summoning 
him  to  put  forth  all  his  strength,  and  all 
his  seamanship,  ere  the  bi-eakere  dash 
against  him,  and  the  rocks  rise  around 
him.  We  thus  deal  with  man  as  a  I'e- 
sponsible  being.  You  are  waiting  for  a 
miracle ;  have  you  tried  the  means  ] 
You  are  trusting  to  a  hidden  purpose ; 
have  you  submitted  yourselves  to  a  re- 
vealed command  1  Sitting  still  is  no 
pi'oof  of  election.  Grappling  with  evil 
is  a  proof;  and  wrenching  one's-self 
from  hurtful  associations  is  a  proof;  and 
studying  CJod's  word  is  a  proof;  and 
nraying  for  assistance  is  a  proof  He 
who  resolves  to  do  notliing  until  he  is 
called — oh,  the  likelihood  is  beyond  cal- 
culation, that  he  will  have  no  call,  till 
the  sheeted  dead  are  starting  at  the 
trumpet-call.     And  the  vessel — freight- 


ST.  PAUL  A  TENT-MAKER. 


101 


ed  as  she  was  with  noble  capncitics,  with 
intelligence,  and  reason,  and  t'onjtlioujrht, 
and  the  deep  throbbintrs  of  immortality 
— what  account  shall  be  given  of  her 
making  no  way  towards  the  shores  of 
the  saint's  home,  but  remaining  to  be 
broken  up  piecemeal  by  the  sweepings 
of  the  judgment'?  Simply,  that  God 
told  man  of  a  compass,  and  of  a  chart, 
and  of  a. wind  and  a  pilot.  But  man  de- 
termined to  remain  anchored,  until  God 
should  come  and  tear  the  ship  from  her 
moorings.  God  has  appointed  means. 
If  we  will  use  them  diligently,  and  pray- 
erfully, we  may  look  for  a  blessing. 
But  if  we  despise  and  neglect  them,  we 
must  not  look  for  a  miracle. 

And  if  a  man  be  resolved  to  give  har- 
borage to  the  idea  that  means  may  be 
dispensed  with,  and  that  then  miracles 
will  be  wrought,  we  open  before  him 
the  scenery  of  our  text,  and  bid  him  be- 
hold the  artificers  at  their  labor.  We 
tell  him,  that  around  one  of  these  work- 
men the  priests  of  Jupiter  had  thronged, 
bearing  garlands,  and  bringing  sacrifi- 
ces, because  of  a  displayed  mastery  over 
inveterate  disease.  We  tell  him,  that, 
if  there  arose  an  occasion  demanding 
the  exhibition  of  prodigy  in  support  of 
Christ's  Gospel,  this  toiling  artisan  could 
throw  aside  the  implements  of  trade, 
and,  rushing  into  the  crowded  arena, 
confound  an  army  of  opponents  by  sus- 
pending the  known  laws  of  nature. 
And,  nevertheless,  this  mightily-gifted 
individual  must  literally  starve,  or  drudge 
for  a  meal  like  the  meanest  mechanic. 
And  why  so  1  why,  but  because  it  is  a 
standing  appointment  of  God,  that  mir- 
acles shall  not  supersede  means  ]  If 
there  were  no  means,  Paul  should  have 
his  bread  by  miracle.  But  whilst  there 
is  the  canvass,  and  the  cord,  and  the 
sight  in  the  eye,  and  the  strength  in  the 
limb,  he  may  carry  on  the  trade  of  a 
tent-maker.  He  has  the  tools  of  his 
craft :  let  him  use  them  industriously, 
and  not  sit  inactive,  hoping  to  be  sup- 
ported miraculously.  And,  arguing  from 
this  as  a  thorough  specimen  of  God's 
ordinary  dealings,  we  tell  the  expectant 
of  an  effectual  call,  that  he  waits  as  an 
idler  whilst  God  requires  him  to  work 
as  a  laborer.  Where  are  the  tools  1 
Why  left  on  the  ground,  when  they 
should  be  in  the  hand  1  Where  are  the 
means  1  Why  passed  over,  when  they 
ought  to  be  emjjloyed  ]     Why  neglect- 


ed, when  they  should  be  honored  ?  Why 
treated  as  worthless,  when  (Jod  declares 
them  efficacious  1  It  is  true  tliat  con- 
version is  a  miracle.  But  God's  com- 
mon method  of  working  this  miracle  is 
through  the  machinery  of  means.  It  is 
true  that  none  but  the  elect  can  be  sav- 
ed. But  the  only  way  to  ascertain  elec- 
tion is  to  be  laborious  in  striving.  I 
read  St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  the  Romans ; 
and  I  find  the  apostle  saying,  "  so  then 
it  is  not  of  him  that  willeth,  nor  of  him 
that  runneth,  but  of  God  that  slioweth 
mercy."  Rom.  9  :  16.  What  then  ] 
Must  I,  on  this  account,  run  not,  but  sit 
still,  expecting  the  approaches  of  mercy  1 
Away  with  the  thought.  Means  are 
God's  high  road  to  miracles.  I  turn 
from  the  apostle  writing  to  the  Romans 
to  the  apostle  toiling  at  Corinth.  And 
when  I  look  on  the  labors  of  the  tent- 
maker,  and  infer  from  them  that  mira- 
cles must  not  be  expected  where  means 
have  been  instituted,  and  that,  conse- 
quently, whensoever  God  has  appointed 
means,  miracle  is  to  be  looked  for  only 
in  their  use ;  oh,  in  place  of  loitering 
because  I  have  read  of  election,  I  would 
gird  up  the  loins  as  liaving  gazed  on  the 
tent-making ; .  and  in  place  of  running' 
not,  because  it  is  "  of  God  that  showeth 
mercy,"  run  might  and  main,  because 
it  is  to  those  who  are  running  that  he 
shows  it. 

When  God  decrees  an  end,  he  decrees 
also  the  means.  If  then  he  have  elected 
me  to  obtain  salvation  in  the  next  life, 
he  has  elected  me  to  the  practice  of  ho- 
liness in  this  life.  Would  I  ascertain 
my  election  to  the  blessedness  of  eter- 
nity i  it  must  be  by  practically  demon- 
strating my  election  to  newness  of  life. 
It  is  not  by  the  rapture  of  feeling,  and 
by  the  luxuriance  of  thought,  and  by  the 
warmth  of  those  desires  which  descrip- 
tions of  heaven  may  stir  up  within  me, 
that  I  can  prove  myself  predestined  to 
a  glorious  inheritance.  If  I  would  find 
out  what  is  hidden,  I  must  follow  what 
is  revealed.  The  way  to  heaven  is  dis- 
closed; am  I  walking  in  that  way?  It 
would  be  poor  proof  that  I  were  on  my 
voyage  to  India,  that,  with  glowing  elo- 
quence and  thrilling  poetry,  I  could  dis- 
course on  the  palm-groves  and  the  spice- 
isles  of  the  East.  Am  I  on"  the  waters  1 
Is  the  sail  hoisted  to  the  wind  ;  and  does 
the  land  of  my  birth  look  blue  and  faint 
in  the  distance  ?     The  doctrine  of  elec- 


102 


ST.  PAUL  A  TENT-MAKEU. 


tion  may  have  done  harm  to  many — but 
only  because  they  have  fancied  them- 
selves elected  to  the  end,  and  have  for- 
gotten that  those  whom  Scripture  calls 
elected  are  elected  to  the  means.  The 
Bible  never  speaks  of  men  as  elected  to 
be  saved  from  the  shipwreck ;  but  only 
as  elected  to  tighten  the  ropes,  and 
hoist  the  sails,  and  stand  to  the  i-udder. 
Let  a  man  search  faithfully ;  let  him  see 
that  when  Sci-ipture  describes  christians 
as  elected,  it  is,  as  elected  to  faith,  as 
elected  to  sanctification,  as  elected  to 
obedience ;  and  the  doctrine  of  election 
will  be  nothing  but  a  stimulus  to  effort. 
It  cannot  act  as  a  soporific.  It  cannot 
lull  mc  into  security.  It  cannot  engen- 
der licentiousness.  It  will  throw  ardor 
into  the  spirit,  and  fii-e  into  the  eye,  and 
vigor  into  the  limb.  I  shall  cut  away 
the  boat,  and  let  drive  all  human  devi- 
ces, and  gird  myself,  amid  the  fierce- 
ness of  the  tempest,  to  steer  the  shat- 
tered vessel  into  port. 

Now  having  thus  examined  the  rea- 
sons why  St.  Paul  was  left  dependent 
upon  labor  for  subsistence,  we  hasten 
at  once  to  wind  up  our  subject.  We 
have  had  under  review  two  great  and 
interesting  truths.  We  have  seen  that 
labor  is  God's  ordinance.  Be  it  yours, 
therefoi-e,  to  sti-ive  earnestly  that  your 
worldly  callings  may  be  sanctified,  so 
that  trade  may  be  the  helpmate  of  reli- 
gion, instead  of  its  foe  and  assassin. 
We  have  seen,  also,  that,  when  God  has 
instituted  means,  we  can  have  no  right 
to  be  looking  for  miracles.  Will  ye  then 
sit  still,  expecting  God  to  compel  you  to 
move  ]  Will  ye  expose  youi-selvcs  wan- 
tonly to  temptation,  expecting  God  to 
make  you  impregnable  1  Will  ye  take 
the  viper  to  your  bosoms,  expecting 
God  to  charm  away  the  sting  ]  Will 
ye  tamper  with  the  poison-cup,  expect- 
ing  God   to   neutralize   the   hemlock] 


Then  why  did  not  St.  Paul,  in  place  of 
working  the  canvass  into  a  tent,  expect 
God  to  convert  it  into  food?  We  do 
not  idolize  means.  We  do  not  substi- 
tute the  means  of  grace  for  grace  itself. 
But  this  we  say — and  we  beseech  you 
to  cany  with  you  the  truth  to  your 
homes — when  God  has  made  a  channel, 
he  may  be  expected  to  send  through 
that  channel  the  flowings  of  his  mercy. 
Oh  !  that  ye  were  anxious  ;  that  ye  would 
take  your  right  place  in  creation,  and 
feel  yourselves  immortal !  Be  men,  and 
ye  make  a  vast  advance  towards  being 
christians.  Many  of  you  have  long  re- 
fused to  labor  to  be  saved.  The  imple- 
ments are  in  your  hands,  but  you  will 
not  work  at  the  tent-making.  Ye  will 
not  pray ;  ye  will  not  shun  temptation  ; 
ye  will  not  renounce  known  sin  ;  ye  will 
not  fight  against  evil  habits.  Are  ye 
stronger  than  God  1  Can  ye  contend 
with  the  Eternal  One  1  Have  ye  the 
nerve  which  shall  not  tremble,  and  the 
flesh  which  shall  not  cpiiver,  and  th^ 
soul  which  shall  not  quail,  when  the 
sheet  of  fire  is  round  the  globe,  and 
thousand  times  ten  thoiisand  angels  line 
the  sky,  and  call  to  judgment  1  If  we 
had  a  spell  by  which  to  bind  the  minis- 
ters of  vengeance,  we  might  go  on  in 
idleness.  If  we  had  a  charm  by  which 
to  take  what  is  scorching  from  the  flame, 
and  what  is  gnawing  from  the  worm,  we 
might  continue  the  careless.  But  if  we 
can  feel ;  if  we  are  not  pain-proof;  if  we 
are  not  wrath-proof;  let  us  arise,  aud  be 
doing,  and,  Avith  fear  and  ti-embling, 
work  out  salvation.  There  shall  yet 
burst  on  this  creation  a  day  of  fire  and 
of  storm,  and  of  blood — oh  !  conform 
yourselves  to  the  simple  prescriptions 
of  the  Bible ;  seek  the  aids  of  God's 
Spirit  l)y  prayer,  and  ye  shall  be  led  to 
lay  hold  on  Christ  Jesus  by  faith. 


SERMON  X. 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  A  STATE  OF  EXPECTATION. 


•  It  is  good  tliat  a  man  shouia  both  hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the  salvation  of  the  Lord." — Lamentations  iii.  SJ8 


You  will  find  it  said  in  the  Book  of 
Ecclesiastes,  "  Because  to  every  pur- 
pose there  is  time  and  judgment,  there- 
fore the  misery  of  man  is  gi-eat  upon 
him."  Ecc.  8:6.  It  seems  to  us  implied 
in  these  words,  that  our  incapacity  of 
looking  into  the  future  has  much  to  do 
with  the  production  of  disquietude  and 
unhappiness.  And  there  is  no  question, 
that  the  darkness  in  which  we  are  com- 
pelled to  pi'oceed,  and  the  uncertainty 
which  hangs  round  the  issues  of  our 
best-arranged  schemes,  contribute  much 
to  the  troubles  and  perplexities  of  life. 
Under  the  present  dispensation  we  must 
calculate  on  probabilities ;  and  our  calcu- 
lations,when  made  with  the  best  care  and 
forethought,  are  often  proved  faulty  by 
the  result.  And  if  we  could  substitute 
certainty  for  probability,  and  thus  de- 
fine,with  a  thorough  accuracy,  the  work- 
ings of  any  proposed  plan,  it  is  evident 
that  we  might  be  saved  a  vast  amount 
both  of  anxiety  and  disappointment. 
Much  of  our  anxiety  is  now  derived  from 
the  doubtfulness  of  the  success  of 
Bchemes,  and  from  the  likelihood  of  ob- 
struction and  mischance  :  much  of  our 
disappointment  from  the  overthrow  and 
failure  of  long-cherished  purposes.  And, 
of  course,  if  we  possessed  the  same 
mastery  of  the  future  as  of  the  past,  we 
should  enter  upon  nothing  which  was 
sure  to  turn  out  ill ;  but,  regulating  our- 
selves in  every  undertaking  by  fore- 
known results,  avoid  much  of  previous 
debate  and  of  after  regret. 

Yet  when  we  have  admitted,  that  want 
of  acquaintance  with  the  future  gives 
rise  to  much  both  of  anxiety  and  of  dis- 
appointment, we  are  prepared  to  argue. 


that  the  possession  of  this  acquaintance 
would  be  incalculably  more  detrimental. 
It  is  quite  true  that  there  are  forms  and 
portions  of  trouble  which  might  be  ward- 
ed off  or  escaped,  if  we  could  behold 
what  is  coming,  and  take  measures  ac- 
cordingly. But  it  is  to  the  ftiU  as  true, 
that  the  main  of  what  shall  befall  us  is 
matter  of  irrevocable  appointment,  to  be 
averted  by  no  prudence,  and  dispersed 
by  no  bravery.  And  if  we  could  know 
beforehand  whatever  is  to  happen,  we 
should,  in  all  probability,  be  unmanned 
and  enervated ;  so  that  an  arrest  would 
be  put  on  the  businesses  of  life  by  pre- 
vious acquaintance  with  their  several 
successes.  The  parent,  who  is  pouring 
his  attention  on  the  education  of  a  child, 
or  laboring  to  procure  for  him  advance- 
ment and  independence,  would  be  un- 
able to  go  forward  with  his  efforts,  if 
certified  that  he  must  follow  that  child 
to  the  grave  so  soon  as  he  had  fitted  him 
for  society  and  occupation.  And  even 
if  the  map  were  a  bright  one,  so  that  we 
looked  on  sunny  things  as  fixed  for  our 
portion,  familiarity  with  the  prospect 
would  deteriorate  it  to  our  imagination  ; 
and  blessings  would  seem  to  us  of  less 
and  less  worth,  as  they  came  on  us  more 
and  more  as  matters  of  course.  In  real 
truth,  it  is  our  ignorance  of  what  shall 
happen  which  stimulates  exertion  :  we 
are  so  constituted  that  to  deprive  us  of 
hope  would  be  to  make  us  inactive  and 
wretched.  And,  therefore,  do  we  hold 
that  one  great  proof  of  God's  loving- 
kindness  towards  us,  may  be  fetched 
from  that  impenetrable  concealment  in 
which  he  wraps  up  to-moiTow.  We 
lonn;  indeed  to  brinj?  to-morrow  into  to- 


104 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  A  STATE  OF  EXPECTATION. 


day,  and  strain  the  eye  in  the  fruitless 
endeavor  to  scan  its  occurrences.  But 
it  is,  in  a  great  degree,  my  ignorance  of 
to-morrow  Avhich  makes  me  vigilant, 
and  energetic,  and  pains-taking,  to-day. 
And  if  I  could  see  to-day  that  a  great 
calamity  or  a  great  success  would  un- 
doubtedly befall  me  to-morrow,  the  like- 
lihood is  that  I  should  be  so  overcome, 
either  by  sorrow  or  by  delight,  as  to  be 
unfitted  for  those  duties  with  which  the 
present  hour  is  charged. 

Now  it  were  easy  to  employ  ourselves 
in  examining,  more  in  detail,  the  bear- 
ings on  our  temporal  well-being  of  that 
hiding  of  the  future  to  which  we  have 
adveited.  Neither  would  such  exami- 
nation be  out  of  place  in  a  discourse  on 
the  words  of  our  text.  The  prophet 
refers  chiefly  to  temporal  deliverance 
when  mentioning  "  the  salvation  of  the 
Lord."  Judah  had  gone  into  captiv- 
ity :  and  Jerusalem,  heretofore  a  queen 
amongst  the  cities,  sat  widowed  and  des- 
olate. Yet  Jeremiah  was  persuaded 
that  the  Lord  would  "  not  cast  off  for 
ever;"  Lam.  3  :  31;  and  he,  therefore, 
encouraged  the  remnant  of  his  country- 
men to  expect  a  better  and  brighter  sea- 
son. He  does  not,  indeed,  predict  imme- 
diate restoration.  But  then  he  asserts 
that  delayed  mercy  would  be  more  ad- 
vantageous than  instant,  and  that  profit 
might  be  derived  from  expectation  as 
well  as  from  possession.  If  we  para- 
phrase his  words,  we  may  consider  him 
saying  to  the  stricken  and  disconsolate 
Jews,  you  wish  an  immediate  interfer- 
ence of  God  on  behalf  of  your  city  and 
nation.  You  desire,  that,  without  a  mo- 
ment's delay,  the  captive  tribes  should 
march  back  from  Babylon,  and  Jerusa- 
lem rise  again  in  her  beauty  and  her 
strength.  But  if  this  wish  were  com- 
plied with,  it  would  be  at  the  expense  of 
much  of  the  benefit  derivable  from  af- 
fliction :  for  "  it  is  good  that  a  man 
should  both  hope  and  quietly  wait  for 
the  salvation  of  the  Lord." 

Thus  the  original  design  of  the  passage 
vrould  warrant  our  taking  a  large  sweep 
in  its  explanation,  and  leading  you  over 
that  range  of  in(juiry  which  is  opened  by 
our  introductory  remarks.  We  might 
dilate  on  the  advantageousness  of  the 
existing  arrangcrnent,  and  its  wondrous 
adaptation  to  our  moral  constitution. 
We  might  show  you,  by  references  to 
the  engagements  and  intercourses  of  life, 


that  it  is  for  our  profit  tha  we  be  uncer- 
tain as  to  issues,  and,  tlierefore,  required 
both  to  hope  and  to  wait.       We  doubt 
whether  you  could  imagine  a  finer  dis- 
cipline for  the  hmnan  mind,  than  results 
from  the  fixed  impossibility  of  our  grasp- 
ing two  moments  at  once.     The  chief 
opponent  to  that  feeling  of  independence 
which  man  naturally  cherishes,  but  al- 
ways to  his  own  huxt,  is  his  utter  igno- 
rance of  the  events  of  the  next  minute. 
For  who   can  boast,  or  who   can    feel 
himself,  independent,  whilst  unable  to 
insure  another  beat  of  the  pulse,  or  to 
decide  whether,  before  he  can  count  two, 
he  shall  be  spoiled  of  life  or  reduced  to 
beggary?     It  is  only  in   proportion  as 
men  close  their  eyes  to  their  absolute 
want  of  mastership  over  the  future,  that 
they  encourage  themselves  in  the  delu- 
sion of  independence.      If  they  owned, 
and  felt  themselves,  the  possessors  of  a 
single  moment,  with  no  more  power  to 
secui'e  the  following,than  if  the  proposed 
period  were  a  thousand  centuries,  we 
might    set  it    down  as  an  unavoidable 
consequence,  that  they  would  shun  the 
presumption  of  so  acting  for  themselves 
as  though  God  were  excluded  from  su- 
pei'intending  their  affairs.     And  if  there 
were  introduced  an  opposite  arrange- 
ment ;    if  men  were  no  longer  placed 
under  a  system  compelling  them  to  hope 
and  to  wait ;  you  may  all  see  that  the 
acquired  power  over  the  future  would 
produce,   in    many  quarters,  an   infidel 
contemi^t,  or  denial,  of  Providence  :  so 
that,  by  admitting  men  to   a  closer  in- 
spection of   his  workings,  God    would 
throw  them  further  off  fiom  acquaintance 
with  himself  and  reverence  of  his  majes- 
ties.  Thus  the  goodness  of  the  existing 
arrangement  is  matter  of  easy  demon- 
stration, when  that  arrangement  is  con- 
sidered as  including  the  affairs  of  every- 
day life.      If  you  look  at  the  consum- 
mation as  ordinarily  far  removed  from 
the  formation  of  a  purpose,  there  is,  we 
again  say,  a  fine  moral  discijjline  in  the 
intervening  suspense.     That  men  may 
withstand,  or  overlook,  the  discipline, 
and  so  miss  its  advantages,  tells  nothing 
against  either  its  existepce,  or  its  ex- 
cellence.    And  the  necessity  which  is 
laid  on  the  husbandman,  that,  after  sow- 
ing the  seed,  he  wait  long  for  the  harvest- 
time,  in  hope,  but  not  certainty  ;    and 
upon  the  merchantman,  that,  after  dis- 
patching his  ships,  he  wait  long  for  the 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  A  STATE  OP  EXPECTATION 


105 


products  of  commerce,  hoping,  but  far 
enough  from  sure,  that  the  voyage  and 
the  traffic  will  be  prosperous  ;  tliis  ne- 
cessity, we  say,  for  hoping  and  waiting- 
reads  the  best  of  all  lessons  as  to  actual 
dependence  on  an  invisible  being ;  and 
thus  verifies  our  position,  that,  whatever 
the  desired  advantage,  "  it  is  good  that 
a  man  should  both  hope  and  quietly  wait 
for "  its  possession.  Ay,  and  we  are 
well  convinced  that  there  cannot  be 
found  a  nobler  argument  for  the  exist- 
ence of  a  stanch  moral  goverment  over 
the  creatures  of  our  race,  than  results 
from  this  imposed  necessity  that  there 
elapse  a  period,  and  that  too  a  period  full 
of  uncertainties,betwecn  the  forming  and 
completing  a  design.  Amid  all  the  mu- 
tiny and  uproar  of  our  present  torn  and 
disorganized  condition,  there  is  a  voice, 
in  our  utter  powerlessness  to  make  sure 
of  the  future,  which  continually  recalls 
man  from  his  rebellion  and  scepticism; 
and  which,  proclaiining,  in  accents  not  to 
be  overborne  by  the  fiercest  tempest  of 
passion,  that  he  holds  every  thing  at  the 
will  of  another,  shall  demand  irresistibly 
his  condemnation  at  any  oncoming  ti'ial, 
if  he  carry  it  wath  a  higli  and  independent 
hand  against  the  being  thus  proved  the 
uncontrolled  lord  of  his  destinies. 

But  we  feel  it  necessary  to  bring  our 
inquiry  within  narrower  limits,  and  to 
take  the  expression,  "  the  salvation  of 
the  Lord,"  in  that  moj-e  restrained  sense 
which  it  bears  ordinarily  in  Scripture. 
We  shall  employ,  therefoie,  the  remain- 
der of  our  time  in  endeavoring  to  prove 
to  you,  by  the  simplest  reasoning,  that 
it  is  for  our  advantage  as  christians  that 
salvation,  in  place  of  being  a  thing  of 
certainty  and  present  possession,  must 
be  hoped  and  quietly  waited  for  by 
believers. 

Now  whilst  it  is  the  business  of  a 
christian  minister  to  guard  you  against 
presumption,  and  an  uncalculating  con- 
fidence that  you  are  safe  for  eternity,  it  is 
also  his  duty  to  rouse  you  to  a  sense  of 
your  ])rivileges,  and  to  press  on  you  the 
importance  of  ascertaining  your  title  to 
immortality.  We  think  it  not  necessari- 
ly a  proof  of  christian  humility,  that  you 
should  be  always  in  doubt  of  your  spir- 
itual state,  and  so  live  uncertain  wheth- 
er, in  the  event  of  death,  you  would  pass 
into  glory.  We  are  bound  to  declare 
that  Scripture  makes  the  mai-ks  of  true 
Teligion  clear  and  decisive ;  and  that,  if 


we  will  but  apply,  faithfully  and  fearless- 
ly, the  several  criteria  furnished  by  its 
statements,  it  camiot  reman  a  problem, 
which  the  last  judgment  only  can  solve, 
whether  it  be  the  l)road  way,  or  the  nar- 
row, in  which  we  now  walk.  But,  nev- 
ertheless, the  best  assurance  to  which  a 
christian  can  attain  must  leave  salvation 
j  a  thing  chiefly  of  hope.  Wc  find  it  ex- 
pressly declared  by  St.  Paul  to  the  Ro- 
mans, "  wc  are  saved  by  hope."  Rom.  8  : 
2  i.  And  they  who  are  most  persuaded, 
and  that  too  by  scriptural  warrant,  that 
they  are  in  a  state  of  salvation,  can  never 
declare  themselves,  except  in  the  most 
limited  sense,  in  its  fruition  or  enjoy- 
ment ;  but  must  always  live  mainly  upon 
hope,  though  with  occasional  foretastes 
of  coming  delights.  They  can  i-each  the 
conclusion — and  a  comforting  and  noble 
conclusion  it  is — that  they  are  justified 
beings,  as  having  been  enabled  to  act 
faith  on  a  Mediator.  But  whilst  justi- 
fication insui-es  them  salvation,  it  puts 
them  not  into  its  present  possession.  It 
is  thus  again  that  St.  Paul  distinguishes 
between  justification  and  salvation,  say- 
ing of  Christ,  "  being  now  justified  by  his 
blood,  we  shall  be  saved  from  wrath 
through  him."  Rom.  5:9.  So  that  the 
knowing  ourselves  justified  is  the  high- 
est thing  attainable  on  earth;  salva- 
tion itself,  though  certain  to  be  reached, 
remaining  an  object  for  which  we  must 
hope,  and  for  which  we  must  wait. 

Now  it  is  the  goodness  of  this  arrange- 
ment which  is  asserted  in  our  text.  We 
can  readily  suppose  an  opposite  ai-range- 
ment.  We  can  imagine  that,  as  soon  as 
a  man  were  justified,  he  might  be  trans- 
lated to  blessedness,  and  that  thus  the 
gaining  the  title,  and  the  entering  on  pos- 
ssession,  might  be  always  contemporary. 
Since  the  being  justified  is  the  being  ac- 
cepted in  God's  sight,  and  counted  per- 
fectly righteous,  there  would  seem  no  in- 
surmountable reason  why  the  justified 
man  should  be  lefl,  a  single  moment,  a 
wanderer  in  the  desert ;  or  why  the  in- 
stant of  the  exertion  of  saving  faith,  inas- 
much as  that  exertion  makes  sure  the  sal- 
vation, should  not  also  be  the  instant  of 
entrance  into  glory.  To  question  the 
possibility  of  such  an  arrangement, 
would  be  to  question  the  possibility  of 
an  outputting  of  faith  at  the  last  moment 
of  life  ;  for,  unless  what  is  called  death- 
bed repentance  be  distinctly  an  impossi- 
ble thing,  the  case  is  clearly  supposable 
14 


106 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  A  STATE  OF  EXPECTATION. 


of  the  justifying  act  being  immediately 
followed  by  admission  into  heaven. 

But  the  possibility  of  the  aiTangcment, 
and  its  goodness,  arc  quite  diflerent 
questions ;  and  whilst  we  see  that  it 
might  have  been  ordered,  that  the  justi- 
fied man  should  at  once  be  translated, 
we  can  still  believe  it  good  that  he  "  both 
hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the  salvation 
of  the  Lord."  Our  text  speaks  chiefly 
of  the  goodness  to  the  individual  himself; 
but  it  will  be  lawful  first  to  consider  the 
arrangement  as  fraught  with  advantage 
to  human  society. 

We  nmst  all  perceive,  that,  if  true 
believers  were  withdra^vn  from  earth  at 
the  instant  of  their  becoming  such,  the 
influences  of  piety,  which  now  make 
themselves  felt  thi-ough  the  mass  of  a 
population,  would  be  altogether  de- 
stroyed, and  the  world  be  dcpi'ived  of 
that  salt  which  alone  preserves  it  from 
total  decomposition.  We  believe  that 
when  Christ  declared  of  his  followei'S, 
"  ye  are  the  salt  of  the  earth,"  Matthew, 
e5  :  13,  he  delivered  a  saying  which  de- 
scribed, with  singular  fidelity,  the  power 
of  righteousness  to  stay  and  correct  the 
disorganizations  of  mankind.  As  ap- 
plied to  the  apostles  the  definition  was 
especially  accurate.  There  lay  before 
them  a  world  distinguished  by  nothing 
BO  much  as  by  corruption  of  doctrine 
and  manners.  Though  philosophy  was 
at  its  height ;  though  reason  had  achiev- 
ed her  proudest  triumphs;  though  arts 
were  in  their  maturity;  though  elo- 
quence was  then  most  finished,  and 
poetry  most  harmonious  ;  there  reigned 
over  the  whole  face  of  the  globe  a  tre- 
mendous ignorance  of  God;  and  if  hu- 
manity were  not  actually  an  unsound 
and  putrid  mass,  it  had  in  it  every  ele- 
ment of  decay,  so  that,  if  longer  aban- 
doned to  itself,  it  must  have  fallen  into 
incurable  disease,  and  become  covered 
with  the  livid  spots  of  total  dissolution. 
And  when,  l)y  divine  commission,  the 
disciples  penetrated  the  recesses  of  this 
mass,  can-ying  with  them  principles, 
and  truths,  exactly  calculated  to  stay 
the  moral  ruin  which  was  spreading 
with  fearful  rapidity — when  they  went 
forth,  the  bearers  of  celestial  communi- 
cations which  taught  the  soul  to  feel 
herself  immortal,  and  therefore  inde- 
structible ;  which  lifted  even  the  body 
but  of  the  grasp  of  decay,  teaching  that 
oonc,  and  sinew,   and   flesh   should  be 


made  at  last  gloriously  incoiTuptible— 
when,  we  say,  the  disciples  thus  apjjlied 
to  the  world  a  remedy,  perfect  in  every 
respect,  against  those  tendencies  to  cor- 
ruption which  threatened  to  turn  our 
globe  into  the  lazar-house  of  creation  ; 
were  they  not  to  be  regarded  as  the  jiu- 
rifiers  and  presenters  of  men,  and  could 
any  title  be  more  just  than  one  which 
defined  them,  in  their  strivings  to  over- 
spread a  diseased  world  with  hcalth- 
fulness,  as  literally  "  the  salt  of  the 
earth?" 

But  it  holds  good  in  every  age  that 
true  believers  are  "  the  salt  of  the 
earth."  Whilst  the  contempt  and  ha- 
tred of  the  wicked  follow  incessantly 
the  professors  of  godliness,  and  the 
enemies  of  Christ,  if  ability  were  com- 
mensurate with  malice,  would  sweep 
from  the  globe  all  knowledge  of  the 
Gospel,  we  can  venture  to  assert  that 
the  unrighteous  owe  the  righteous  a 
debt  of  obligation  not  to  be  reckoned, 
up ;  and  that  it  is  mainly  because  the 
required  ten  are  still  found  in  the  cities 
of  the  plain  that  the  fire-showers  are 
suspended,  and  time  given  for  the 
warding  off  by  repentance  the  doom. 
And  over  and  above  this  conservative 
virtue  of  godliness,  it  is  undeniable 
that  the  presence  of  a  pious  man  in  a 
neighborhood  will  tell  gi'eatly  on  its 
character;  and  that,  in  variety  of  in- 
stances, his  withdrawment  would  be 
followed  by  wilder  outbreakings  of  pro- 
fligacy. It  must  have  fallen,  we  think, 
within  the  power  of  many  of  you  to 
observe,  how  a  dissolute  parish  has  im- 
dergone  a  sjiecics  of  moral  renovation, 
through  the  introduction  within  its  cir- 
cles of  a  God-fearing  individual.  He 
may  be  despised  ;  he  may  be  scorned ; 
he  may  be  railed  at.  The  old  may  call 
him  methodist,  and  the  young  make 
him  their  laughing-stock.  But,  never- 
theless, if  he  live  consistently,  if  he 
give  the  adversary  no  occasion  to  blas- 
pheme, he  will  often,  by  his  very  ex- 
ample, go  a  long  way  towards  stopping 
the  contagion  of  vice ;  he  will  act,  that 
is,  as  the  salt :  and  if  he  succeed  not — 
for  this  is  beyond  the  power  of  the  salt 
— in  restoring  to  a  wholesome  texture 
what  is  fatally  tainted,  he  will  be  instru- 
mental to  the  i)rcserving  much  which 
would  otherwise  have  soon  yielded  to 
the  destructive  malaria.  It  is  not  mere- 
ly that  his  temjioral  circumstances  may 


THE  ADVANTAGES   OF  A  STATE   OP  EXPECTATION. 


107 


have  given  him  ascendancy  over  his 
fellows.  There  is  in  the  human  mind — 
we  dare  not  say,  a  bias  towards  virtue, 
but — an  abiding,  and  scarcely  to  be  over- 
borne consciousness,  that  such  ought  to 
be  the  bias,  and  that,  whensoever  the 
practical  leaning  is  to  vice,  there  is  irre- 
sistible evidence  of  moral  derangement. 
Whatever  the  extent  of  human  degener- 
^•cy,  you  will  not  find  that  right  and 
wrong  have  so  changed  places,  that,  in 
being  the  slaves  of  vice,  men  reckon 
themselves  the  subjects  of  virtue.  There 
is  a  gnawing  restlessness  in  those  who 
have  most  abandoned  themselves  to  the 
power  of  evil ;  and  much  of  the  fiei'ce- 
ness  of  their  profligacy  is  ascribable  to 
a  felt  necessity  of  keeping  down,  and 
B'^ifling,  reproachful  convictions.  And 
hence  it  comes  to  pass  that  vice  will 
ordinarily  feel  rebuked  and  overawed 
by  virtue,  and  that  the  men,  whom  you 
would  think  dead  to  all  noble  principle, 
will  be  disturbed  by  the  presence  of  an 
apright  and  God-fearing  character.  The 
voice  of  righteousness  will  find  some- 
thing of  an  echo  amid  the  disorder  and 
confusion  of  the  worst  moral  chaos  ;  and 
the  strings  of  conscience  are  scarcely 
ever  so  dislocated  and  torn  as  not  to 
yield  even  a  whisper,  when  swept  by 
the  hand  of  a  high  virtued  monitor.  So 
that  the  godly  in  a  neighborhood  wield 
an  influence  which  is  purely  that  of  god- 
liness ;  and  when  denied  opportunities 
of  direct  interference,  check  by  exam- 
ple, and  reprove  by  conduct.  You  could 
not  then  measure  to  us  the  consequen- 
ces ot  the  withdrawment  of  the  salt 
from  the  mass  of  a  population  ;  nor  cal- 
culate the  lapidity  with  which,  on  the 
complete  removal  of  God-fearing  men, 
an  overwhennuig  corruption  would  per- 
vade all  society.  But  this  is  exactly 
what  must  occur,  if  a  system,  opposite 
to  the  present,  were  introduced,  so  that 
salvation  were  not  a  thing  to  be  hoped 
and  waited  rm.  If  as  soon  as  a  man 
were  iustifled,  t>^<'oogh  being  enabled 
to  act  faitli  upon  Lll'nst,  he  were  trans- 
lated to  the  repobo  and  blessedness  of 
heaven,  he  could  exert  nothing  of  that 
influence,  and  work  nothing  of  that 
benefit,  which  we  have  now  traced  and 
exhibited.  And,  therefore,  in  propor- 
tion as  the  influence  is  important  and 
the  benefit  considerable,  we  must  be 
wan-anted  in  maintaining  it  "  good 
that,    a    man    should    both    hope    and 


quietly   wait   for   the   salvation    of  the 
Lord." 

It    is,  however,  the  goodness  of  the 
arrangement    to    the  individual  himself 
which    seems    chiefly   contemplated  by 
the  prophet,   and  upon  this,  therefore, 
we  shall  employ  the  remainder  of  our 
discourse.      Now,  under  this    point  of 
view,  our  text  is  simpler  at  first  sight 
than  when  rigidly  examined.     We  can 
see,    at    once,    that  there  is  a  spiritual 
discipline  in    the    hoj^ing    and  waiting, 
which    can    scarcely    fail    to    improve 
greatly  the  character  of  the   christian. 
But,  nevertheless,  would  it  not,  on  the 
whole,  be    vastly  for   his  personal  ad- 
vantage, that  he  should  leave  speedily 
this  theatre  of  conflict  and  trouble,  and 
be  admitted,  without   a  wearisome  de- 
lay, into  the  mansion  which  Christ  has 
prepared  for  his  residence  ]     We  have 
already  shown  you  that  there  can  exist 
no  actual  necessity,  that  he  who  is  jus- 
tified should   not    be   immediately  glo- 
rified.    We  are  bound  to  believe  that  a 
justified  man — and,  beyond  all  question, 
a  man  is  justified  in    this  life — is  con- 
signed to  blessedness  by  an  irreversible 
appointment,     and    that,    consequently, 
whensoever  he  dies,    it   is  certain  that 
he  enters    into    heaven.     The    moment 
he    is    justified,    heaven   becomes    un- 
doubtedly his  portion  ;   and  if,  therefore, 
he  die  at    the    instant    of  justification, 
he  will  as  surely  obtain  immortality,  as 
if  many  years  elapse  between  the  out- 
putting  of  faith  and  the  departure  from 
life.     And    how   then    can    it   be  good 
for  him,  certified   as  he  thus  is  of  hea- 
ven, to  continue  the  war  with  sin  and 
corruption,    and    to    cut    painfully    his 
way   through   hosts    of    opponents,    in 
place    of   passing   instantaneously    into 
the  joy    of  his    Lord?     If  you    could 
prove  it  in  every  case  indispensable  that 
a  justified  man  should  undergo  discipline 
in  order  to  his   acquiring  meetness  for 
heaven,  there  would  be  no  room  for  de- 
bate as  to  the  goodness   asserted  in  our 
text.     But  you  cannot  prove  the  disci- 
pline   indispensable,  because  we  know 
the  possibility  that  a  man  may  be  justi- 
fied at  the  last  moment  of  life  ;  so  that, 
no  time  ha"ving  been  allowed  for  prepa- 
ration, he  may  spring  from  a  death-bed 
to    a   throne.     And   thus    the    question 
comes    back   upon    us  in  its   unbroken 
force,  wherein  lies  the  goodness  of  hoping 
and  waitinc:  for  salvation  1 


lOS 


TUE   ADVANTAGES  OF  A  STATE  OF  EXPECTATION. 


Wc  take  the  case,  for  example,  of  a 
man  wlio,  at  the  age  of  thirty,  is  ena- 
bled, through  the  operations  of  grace,  to 
look  in  faith  to  the  Mediator.  By  this 
looking  in  faith  the  man  is  justified  :  a 
justified  man  cannot  perish  :  and  if, 
therefore,  the  individual  died  at  thirty, 
he  would  "  sleep  in  Jesus."  But,  after 
being  justified,  the  man  is  left  tliirty 
years  upon  earth — years  of  care,  and 
toil,  and  striving  with  sin — and  during 
these  years  he  hopes  and  waits  for  sal- 
vation. At  length  he  obtains  salvation  ; 
and  thus,  at  the  close  of  thirty  years, 
takes  possession  of  an  inheritance  to 
which  his  title  was  clear  at  the  beginning. 
Now  wherein  can  lie  the  advantageous- 
iiess  of  this  arrangement  ]  Thirty  years, 
which  might  have  been  spent  in  the  en- 
joying, are  spent  in  the  hoping  and 
waiting  for  salvation  :  and  unless  the  re- 
ality shall  fall  short  of  the  expectation, 
how  can  it  be  true  that  "  it  is  good  that 
a  man  should  both  hope  and  quietly 
wait  for  the  salvation  of  the  Lord  1 " 

We  think  that  no  fair  ex^^lanation  can 
be  given  of  our  text,  unless  you  bring 
iftto  the  account  the  difference  in  the 
portions  to  be  assigned  hereafter  to  the 
righteous.  If  you  supposed  uniformity 
in  the  glory  and  happiness  of  the  future, 
we  should  be  at  a  loss  to  discover  the 
goodness  of  the  existing  arrangement. 
If,  after  the  thirty  years  of  warfare  and 
toil,  the  man  receive  precisely  what  ho 
might  have  received  at  the  outset  of 
these  years,  is  he  benefited,  nay,  is  he 
not  injured  by  the  delay  1  If  the  delay 
afford  the  means  of  increasing  the  bless- 
edness, there  is  a  clear  advantageous- 
ness  in  that  delay.  But  if  the  blessed- 
ness be  of  a  fixed  quantity,  so  that  at 
the  instant  of  justification  a  man's  por- 
tion is  unalterably  determined,  to  assert 
it  good  that  he  sliould  hope  and  wait, 
is  to  assert  that  thirty  years  of  expecta- 
tion are  more  delightful  than  thirty  years 
of  possession. 

We  bring  before  you,  therefore,  as  a 
comment  on  our  text,  words  such  as 
these  of  the  apostle,  "  our  light  afflic- 
tion, which  is  but  for  a  moment,  work- 
eth  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory."  2  Cor.  4  :  17. 
We  consider  that  when  you  set  the  pas- 
sages in  juxta-position,  the  working- 
power,  ascribed  by  one  to  affliction,  gives 
satisfactory  account  of  the  goodness  at- 
tributed by  the  otlicr  to  the  hoping  and 


waiting.  It  is  unquestionably  good  that 
a  man  should  hope  and  wait,  provith.-d 
the  delay  make  it  possible  that  he 
heighten  the  amount  of  finally-received 
blessedness.  And  if  the  affliction,  for 
exam]ile,  which  is  undergone  during  the 
period  of  delay,  work  out  "  a  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory," 
it  follows  necessarily  that  delay  makes 
possible  the  heightening  future  glory; 
and  therefore  it  follows,  just  as  necessa- 
rily, that  it  is  "  good  that  a  man  should 
both  hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the  sal- 
vation of  the  Lord." 

We  consider  it  easy,  by  thus  bringing 
into  the  account  an  undoubted  doctrine 
of  Scripture — the  doctrine  that  the  fu- 
ture allotments  of  the  righteous  shall  be 
accurately  proportioned  to  their  present 
attainments — to  explain  the  goodness  of 
an  arrangement  which  defers,  through 
many  years,  full  deliverance  from  trial. 
Wc  are  here,  in  every  sense,  on  a  stage 
of  probation  ;  so  that,  having  once  been 
brought  back  from  the  alienations  of 
nature,  we  are  candidates  for  a  prize, 
and  wrestlers  for  a  diadem.  It  is  not 
the  mere  entrance  into  the  kingdom  for 
which  we  contend  :  the  first  instant  in 
which  we  act  faith  on  Christ  as  our  pro- 
pitiation, sees  this  enti'ance  secured  to 
us  as  justified  beings.  But,  when  justi- 
fied, there  is  opened  before  us  the  widest 
field  for  a  righteous  ambition  ;  and  por- 
tions deepening  in  majesty,  and  height- 
ening in  brilliancy,  rise  on  our  vision, 
and  animate  to  unwearied  endeavor. 
We  count  it  one  of  the  glorious  things 
of  Christianity,  that,  in  place  of  repress- 
ing, it  gives  full  scope  to  all  the  ardor 
of  man's  spirit.  It  is  common  to  reckon 
ambition  amongst  A'ices  :  and  a  vice  it 
is,  under  its  ordinary  developments,  with 
which  Christianity  wages  interminable 
warfare.  But,  nevertheless,  it  is  a  stanch 
and  an  adventurous,  and  an  eagle-eyed 
thing  :  and  it  is  impossible  to  gaze  on  the 
man  of  ambition,  daunted  not  by  disas- 
ter, wearied  not  by  repulse,  dishearten- 
ed not  by  delay,  holding  on  in  one  un- 
broken career  of  eff'ort  to  reach  a  covet- 
ed object,  without  feeling  that  he  jios- 
sesses  the  elements  of  a  noble  constitu- 
tion ;  and  that,  however  to  be  wept  over 
for  the  prostitution  of  his  energies,  for 
the  pouring  out  this  mightiness  of  soul  on 
the  corrupt  and  the  ])orishable,  he  is 
equipped  with  an  apparatus  of  powers 
which  need  nothing  but  the  being  rightly 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OP  A  STATE  OF  EXPECTATION. 


109 


directetl,  in  order  to  the  forming  the 
very  iinest  of"  characters.  And  we  tliink 
it  nothing  better  than  a  libel  on  Chris- 
tianity, to  declare  of  the  ambitious  man, 
that  if  he  become  religious,  he  must,  in 
every  sense,  cease  to  be  ambitious.  If 
it  have  been  his  ambition  to  rise  high  in 
the  dignities  of  a  state,  to  win  to  him- 
self the  plaudits  of  a  multitude,  to  twine 
his  forehead  with  the  wreaths  of  popu- 
lar favor,  to  be  foremost  amongst  the 
heroes  of  war  or  the  ])rofessors  of  sci- 
ence— the  introduced  humility  of  a  dis- 
ciple of  Christ,  bringing  him  down  from 
all  the  heights  of  carnal  ascendancy, 
will  be  quite  incompatible  with  this  his 
ambition,  so  that  his  discipleship  may 
be  tested  by  its  suppression  and  destruc- 
tion. But  all  those  elements  of  charac- 
ter which  went  to  the  making  up  this 
ambition — the  irrepressible  desire  of 
some  imagined  good,  the  fixedness  of 
purpose,  the  sti-enuousness  of  exertion 
— these  remain,  and  are  not  to  be  anni- 
hilated ;  requiring  only  the  proposition 
of  a  holy  object,  and  they  will  instantly 
be  concentrated  into  a  holy  ambition. 
And  Christianity  propounds  this  object. 
Christianity  deals  with  ambition  as  a 
passion  to  be  abhorred  and  denounced, 
whilst  urging  the  warrior  to  carve  his 
way  to  a  throne,  or  the  courtier  to  press 
on  in  the  path  of  preferment.  But  it  does 
not  cast  out  the  elements  of  the  passion. 
Why  should  it  1  They  are  the  noblest 
which  enter  into  the  human  composition, 
bearing  most  vividly  the  impress  of  man's 
original  formation.  Christianity  seizes 
on  these  elements.  She  tells  her  subjects 
tlmt  the  rewards  of  eternity,  though  all 
purchased  by  Christ,  and  none  merited 
by  man,  shall  be  rigidly  proportioned  to 
their  works.  She  tells  them  that  there  are 
places  of  dignity,  and  stations  of  emi- 
nence, and  crowns  with  more  jewelry, 
and  sceptres  with  more  sway,  in  that 
glorious  empire  which  shall  finally  be 
eet  up  by  the  Mediator.  And  she  bids 
them  strive  for  the  loftier  recompense. 
She  would  not  have  them  contented  with 
the  lesser  portion,  though  infinitely  out- 
doing human  imagination  as  well  as  hu- 
man desert.  And  if  ambition  be  the 
walking  with  the  stanch  step,  and  the 
single  eye,  and  the  untired  zeal,  and  all 
in  pursuit  of  some  longed-for  superiori- 
ty, Christianity  saith  not  to  the  man  of 
ambition,  lay  aside  thine  ambition  :  Chris- 
tianity hath  need  of  the  stanch  step,  and 


the  single  eye,  and  the  untired  zeal : 
and  she,  therefore,  sets  before  the  man 
pyramid  rising  above  pyramid  in  glory, 
throne  above  throne,  palace  above  pa- 
lace ;  and  she  sends  him  forth  into  tlie 
moral  arena  to  wrestle  for  the  loftiest, 
though  unworthy  of  the  lowest. 

We  shall  not  hesitate  to  argue  that  in 
this,  as  in  other  modes  which  might  be 
indicated,  Christianity  provides  an  antag- 
onist to  that  listlessness  which  a  feeling 
of  security  might  be  supposed  to  engen- 
der. She  does  not  allow  the  believer  to 
imagine  every  thing  done,  when  a  title  to 
the  kingdom  has  been  obtained.  She 
still  shows  him  that  the  trials  of  the  last 
great  assize  shall  proceed  most  accui-ate- 
ly  on  the  evidence  of  works.  There  is 
no  swerving  in  the  Bible  from  this  repre- 
sentation. And  if  one  man  becomes  a 
ruler  over  ten  cities,  and  another  over 
five,  and  another  over  two — each  receiv- 
ing in  exact  proportion  to  his  improve- 
ment of  talents — it  is  clear  as  demonstra- 
tion can  make  it,  that  our  strivings  will 
have  a  vast  influence  on  our  recompense, 
and  that,  though  no  iota  of  blessedness 
shall  be  portioned  out  to  the  righteous 
which  is  not  altogether  an  undeserved 
gift,  the  arrangements  of  the  judgment 
will  balance  most  nicely  what  is  bestowed 
and  what  is  performed.  It  shall  not  be 
said,  that,  because  secure  of  admission 
into  heaven,  the  justified  man  has  no- 
thing to  excite  him  to  toil.  He  is  to 
wrestle  for  a  place  amongst  spirits  of  chiel 
renown  :  he  is  to  propose  to  himself  a 
station  close  to  the  throne  :  he  is  to  fix 
his  eye  on  a  reward  sparkling  above  the 
rest  with  the  splendors  of  eternity  :  and, 
whilst  bowed  to  the  dust  under  a  sense 
of  utter  unworthiness  to  enter  the  lists  in 
so  noble  a  contest,  he  is  to  become  com- 
petitor for  the  richest  and  most  radiant 
of  prizes.  We  tell  him,  then,  that  it  is 
good  that  he  hope  and  wait.  It  is  tell- 
ing him  there  is  yet  time,  though  rapidly 
diminishino;,  for  securinij  hisrh  rank  in  the 
kintrdom.  It  is  telling  the  wrestler,  the 
glass  is  running  out,  and  there  is  a  gar- 
land not  won.  It  is  telling  the  warrior 
the  night  shades  are  gathering,  and  the 
victory  is  not  yet  complete.  It  is  telling 
the  traveller,  the  sun  is  declining,  and 
there  are  higher  peaks  to  be  scaled.  Is 
it  not  good  that  I  hope  and  wait,  when 
each  moment  may  add  a  jewel  to  the 
crown,  a  plume  to  the  wing,  a  city  to  the 
sceptre  1  Is  it  not  good,  when  each  second 


110 


THE  ADVANTACrES  OP  A  STATE   OF  EXPECTATION. 


of  effoi't  may  lift  me  a  step  hiirher  in  the 
scale  of  triumph  and  majesty  I  Oh,  you 
look  on  an  individual  whose  faith  in 
Christ  Jesus  has  been  demonstrated  by 
most  scriptural  evidence,  but  unto  whom 
life  is  one  long  series  of  trials,  and  disas- 
ters, and  pains  ;  and  you  are  disposed  to 
ask,  seeing  there  can  rest  no  doubt  on  the 
man's  title  to  salvation,  whctlicr  it  would 
not  be  good  for  him  to  be  freed  at  once 
from  the  burden  of  the  flesh,  and  thus 
epaied,  it  may  be,  yet  many  years  of 
anxiety  and  struggle.  You  think  that  he 
may  well  take  as  his  own  the  words  of  the 
Psahnist  :  "  Oh  that  I  had  wings  like  a 
dove,  then  would  I  flee  away  and  be  at 
rest."  But  we  meet  you  with  the  asser- 
tion of  an  instituted  coimection  between 
our  two  states  of  being.  We  tell  you 
that  the  believer,  as  he  breasts  the  storm, 
and  plunges  into  the  war,  and  grapples 
with  aflliction,  is  simply  in  the  condition 
of  one  who  contends  forapi-ize;  ay,  and 
that  if  he  were  taken  off  from  the  scene 
of  combat,  just  at  the  instant  of  challeng- 
ing the  adversary,  and  thus  saved,  on 
your  short-sighted  calculation,  a  super- 
fluous outlay  of  toil  and  resistaiice,  he 
would  miss  noble  things,  and  things  of 
loveliness,  in  his  ever  lasting  portion,  and 
be  brought  down  from  some  starry  emi- 
nence in  the  sovereignties  of  elernity, 
•which  had  he  fought  through  along  life- 
time "  the  good  fight  of  faith,"  1  Tim. 
6  :  12,  might  have  been  awarded  him 
in  the  morning  of  the  first  resurrection. 
Now  we  may  suppose  that  we  carry 
with  us  your  admission  of  the  fairness 
of  the  reasoning,  that,  inasnnich  as  the 
continuance  of  the  justified  upon  earth 
affords  them  opportunity  of  rising  high- 
er in  the  scale  of  future  blessedness, 
there  is  a  goodness  in  the  arrangement 
which  is  vastly  more  than  a  counter- 
poise to  all  the  evils  with  which  it 
seems  charged.  The  justified  man, 
translated  at  the  instant  of  justification, 
could  receive  nothing,  we  may  think, 
but  the  lower  and  less  splendid  por- 
tions. He  would  have  had  no  time  for 
glorifying  Gf)d  in  the  active  duties  of  a 
christian  profession  ;  and  it  would  seem 
impossil»lo,  therefiire,  that  he  should 
win  any  of  those  more  magnificent  al- 
lotments which  shall  be  given  to  the 
foremost  of  Christ's  followers.  But  the 
remaining  in  the  flesh  after  justification, 
allows  of  that  growth  in  grace,  that 
progress  in  holiness,  that  adcunirig  in  all 


things  the  doctrine  of  the  Savior,  to 
which  shall  be  awarded,  at  the  judgment, 
chief  places  in  the  kingdom  of  INIcssiah. 
And  if,  on  the  supposition  that  no  period 
intervene,  there  can  be  no  augmentations 
of  happiness,  whei'eas,  on  that  of  hoping 
and  waiting,  there  may  be  daily  advances 
in  holiness,  and  therefore  daily  acces- 
sions to  a  never-ending  bliss  ;  who  will 
deny  the  accuracy  of  the  inference,  that 
"  it  is  good  that  a  man  should  both  hope 
and  quietly  wait  for  the  salvation  of  the 
Lord  ]  " 

There  would  seem  nothinrr  wanting 
to  the  completeness  of  this  argument, 
unless  it  be  proof  of  what  has  been  all 
along  assumed,  namely,  that  the  being 
compelled  to  hope  and  to  wait  is  a  good 
moral  discipline ;  so  that  the  exercises 
prescribed  are  calculated  to  promote 
holiness,  and,  therefore,  to  insure  hap- 
piness. We  have  perhaps  only  shown 
the  advantageousness  of  delay;  whereas 
the  text  asserts  the  advantageousness 
of  certain  acts  of  the  soul.  Yet  this  dis- 
crepancy between  the  thing  proved,  and 
the  thing  to  be  proved,  is  too  slight  to 
require  a  lengthened  coiTcction.  It  is 
the  delay  which  makes  salvation  a  thing 
of  hope;  and  that  which  I  am  obliged 
to  hope  for,  I  am,  of  course,  obliged  to 
wait  for;  and  thus,  whatever  of  benefi- 
cial result  can  be  ascribed  to  the  delay 
may,  with  equal  fitness,  be  ascribed  to 
the  hoping  and  waiting.  Besides,  hope 
and  patience — for  it  is  not  the  mere 
waiting  which  is  asserted  to  be  good ;  it 
is  the  quietly  waiting ;  and  this  quiet 
waiting  is  but  another  term  for  ])atience 
— hope  and  patience  are  two  of  the  most 
admirable  of  christian  graces,  and  he 
who  cultivates  them  assiduously  cannot 
well  be  neglectful  of  the  rest.  So  that, 
to  say  of  a  man  that  he  is  exercising 
hope  and  patience,  is  to  say  of  liim,  that, 
through  the  assistance  of  God's  Spirit, 
he  is  more  and  more  overcoming  the 
ruggedness  and  oppositions  of  nature, 
and  more  and  more  improving  the  soil, 
that  lovely  things,  and  things  of  good 
report,  may  spring  up  and  flourish.  In 
the  material  world,  there  is  a  wonderful 
provision  against  the  destruction  of  tlie 
soil,  which  has  often  excited  the  admi- 
ration of  philosophers.  The  coat  of 
vegetable  mould  with  which  this  globe 
is  overspread,  and  tlic  removal  of  which 
would  be  the  covering  our  fields  with 
sterility,  consists  of  loose  materials,  easily 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  A  STATE  OF  EXPECTATION. 


Ill 


waslierl  away  by  the  rains,  and  continu- 
ally carried  down  by  tho  rivers  to  the 
sea.  And,  nevertheless,  though  there  is 
this  rapid  and  ongoing  waste,  a  waste 
which  seems  sufficient,  of  itself,  to  de- 
stroy in  a  few  yeai's  the  soil,  there  is  no 
sensible  diminution  in  the  layers  of 
mould ;  but  the  soil  remains  the  same, 
'jr  nearly  the  same,  in  quantity ;  and 
must  have  done  so,  ever  since  this  earth 
became  the  home  of  animal  or  vegetable 
life.  And  we  know,  therefore,  that  there 
must  be  causes  at  work  which  continu- 
ally furnish  a  supply  just  equal  to  the 
waste  of  the  soil.  \Ve  know  that  God, 
wonderful  in  his  forethought  and  contri- 
vance, must  have  arranged  a  system 
of  mechanical  and  chemical  agencies, 
througli  whose  operations  the  ravages 
of  the  flood  and  storm  should  be  care- 
fully repaired  :  and  we  find  accordingly, 
that,  whilst  the  soil  is  swept  away,  there 
goes  on  continually,  through  the  action 
of  the  elements,  a  breaking  up  and 
pounding  even  of  the  hardest  rocks,  and 
that  thus  there  is  strewed  upon  the 
earth's  surface  by  the  winds,  or  brought 
down  in  the  sediments  of  mountain  tor- 
rents, a  fresh  deposit  in  the  room  of  the 
displaced  and  far-scattered  covering. 

Now  it  is  only  necessary  to  allude  to 
such  an  arrangement  in  the  material 
world,  and  you  summon  forth  the  admi- 
ration and  applause  of  contemplative 
minds.  It  is  a  thing  so  surprising,  that 
the  waste  and  loss,  which  the  most  care- 
less must  observe,  should  be  continually 
and  exactly  repaired,  though  by  agencies 
wh(jse  workings  we  can  scarcely  detect, 
that  the  bare  mention  of  the  fact  elicits, 
on  all  sides,  a  confession,  that  creative 
wisdom  and  might  distance  immeasura- 
bly the  stanchest  of  our  searchings.  But 
we  think  that,  in  the  spiritual  economy, 
we  have  something,  analogous  indeed, 
but  still  more  beautiful  as  an  arrange- 
ment. The  winds  of  passion,  and  the 
floods  of  temptation,  pass  fiercely  over 
the  soil  of  the  heart,  displacing  often 
and  scattering  that  mould  which  has 
been  broken  up  by  the  ploughshare  of 
the  Gospel.  But  God's  promise  is,  that 
lie  will  not  suffer  believers  "  to  be  tempt- 
ed above  that  they  are  able;  "  1  Cor.  10  : 
13  ;  and  thus,  though  the  soil  for  a  while 
be  disturbed,  it  is  not,  as  in  the  material 
system,  carried  altogether  away,  but 
soon  re-settles,  and  is  again  fit  for  the 
husbandman.    But  this  is  not  all.    Every 


overcome  temptation,  ministering,  as  it 
must  do,  to  faith,  and  hope,  and  patience, 
is  virtually  an  assault  on  the  granite  of 
a  corrupt  nature,  and  helps  to  break  in 
pieces  the  rock  of  which  there  remains 
much  in  the  breasts  of  the  most  pious. 
He  who  conquers  a  temptaticui  takes  a 
fresh  step  towards  subduing  himself ;  in 
other  words,  detaches  more  particles 
fi-om  the  stone  and  the  iron.  And  thus, 
in  most  accurate  correspondence,  as  in 
the  natural  world  so  in  the  spiritual,  the 
tempest  and  torrent,  which  displace 
the  soil,  provide  fresh  material  for  all 
the  purposes  of  vegetation  :  but  there  is 
this  difference  between  the  two  :  in  the 
natural  world,  the  old  soil  disappears, 
and  its  place  is  supplied  by  the  new ;  in 
the  spiritual,  the  old,  disturbed  fin-  a 
while,  subsides,  and  is  tlien  wonderfully 
deepened  by  accessions  of  new.  Hope 
and  patience,  exercised  by  the  appointed 
trials  of  life,  cause  an  eru-ichment  of  the 
soil  in  which  all  christian  graces  flourish  ; 
so  that  the  grain  of  mustard  seed,  burst- 
ing into  a  tree,  finds  ample  space  for  its 
roots,  spreading  them  wide  and  striking 
them  deep.  And  if  this  be  no  exagge- 
rated account  of  the  benefits  resulting 
from  a  sedulous  exercise  of  hope  and 
patience  ;  if  it  be  true  that  he  who,  in 
the  scriptural  sense,  hopes  and  quietly 
waits  for  salvation,  is  under  that  disci- 
pline which,  of  all  others,  ministers  to 
the  growth  of  dispositions  acceptable  to 
God ;  w^e  have  omitted,  it  would  seem, 
no  step  in  the  required  demonstration, 
but  have  collected  all  the  elements  of 
proof,  that  "  it  is  good  that  a  man  should 
both  hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the  sal- 
vation of  the  Lord." 

We  would  only  further  remark,  though 
the  statement  is  perhaps  involved  in  the 
preceding,  that  the  delay  is  good  as  af- 
fording time  in  which  to  glorify  God. 
It  is  a  spectacle  which  should  stir  all  the 
anxieties  and  sympatliies  of  a  believer, 
that  of  a  world  which  has  been  ran- 
somed by  blood-shedding,  but  which, 
nevertheless,  is  overspread  with  impiety 
and  infidelity.  The  christian  is  the  man 
of  loyalty  and  uprightness,  forced  to 
dwell  in  the  assemblings  of  traitors. 
With  a  heart  that  beats  true  to  the  king 
of  the  land,  he  must  tarry  amongst  those 
who  have  thrown  off"  allegiance.  On  all 
sides  he  must  hear  the  plottings  of  trea- 
son, and  behold  the  actings  of  rebellion. 
Can  he  fail  to  be  wrought  up  to  a  long- 


112 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OP  A  STATE  OF  EXPECTATION. 


ing,  and  efTort,  to  arrest,  in  some  degree, 
the  march  of  anarchy,  and  to  bring  be- 
neath the  sceptre  of  righteousness  the 
revolted  and  ruined  ])oj)ulation  1  Can 
he  be  an  indifferent  and  cold-hearted 
spectator  of  the  despite  done  to  God  by 
every  class  of  society  ;  and  shall  there 
be  no  throbbing  of  spirit,  and  no  yearn- 
ing of  soul,  over  thousands  of  his  race, 
who,  though  redeemed  by  the  sacrifice 
of  Christ,  are  preparing  themselves  a 
heritage  of  fire  and  shame  1  We  do  but 
reason  from  the  most  invariable  and 
well  known  principles  of  our  nature, 
when  wc  argue  that,  as  a  loyal  and  loving 
subject  of  Christ,  the  believer  must  glow 
with  righteous  indignation  at  the  bold 
insults  offered  to  his  Lord,  and  long  to 
bend  every  faculty  and  power  to  the  di- 
minishing the  world's  wretchedness  by 
overcoming  its  rebellion.  What  stronger 
proof  then  can  you  ask  of  the  goodness 
in  question  than  that,  whilst  detained 
fi-oni  glory,  we  may  withstand  impiety  '/ 
It  is  yet  a  little  while,  and  we  shall  be 
withdrawn  from  this  scene  of  rebellion; 
and  no  further  effort,  so  far  as  we  oui-- 
selves  are  concerned,  can  be  made 
towards  advancing  Christ's  kingdom. 
Others  may  come  after  us,  of  warmer 
loyalty  and  more  resolute  zeal,  and  make 
better  head  against  the  tide  of  apostacy. 
But  our  own  opportunities  of  vindicating 
Christ's  honor,  and  extending  the  sway 
of  his  sceptre,  will  have  altogether  pass- 
ed away  ;  and  the  last  glance  which  our 
spirits,  in  departing,  cast  upon  this  earth, 
may  show  us  impiety  careering  with  as 
dominant  a  footstep  as  ever,  and  send  us 
into  God's  presence  with  a  throb  of  self- 
reproach  at  the  paucity  and  poverty  of 
our  resistances  to  the  might  of  the  evil 
one.  We  doubt  not,  that,  whatever  the 
joy  and  peace  of  a  christian's  deathbed, 
there  will  be  always  a  feeling  of  regret 
that  so  little  has  been  done,  or  rather  so 
little  attempted,  for  Christ.  And  if, 
whilst  his  firmament  is  glowing  with  the 
dawnings  of  eternity,  and  the  melody  of 
angels  is  just  stealing  on  his  ear,  and  the 
walls  of  the  bright  city  arc  bounding  his 
horizon,  one  wish  could  detain  him  in 
the  tabernacle  of  flesh  ;  oh,  it  would  not 
be  the  wish  of  tarrying  with  the  weep- 
ing ones  who  are  clustered  at  his  bed- 
side ;  and  it  would  not  be  that  of  p70- 
viding  for  children,  of  superintending 
their  education,  or  of  perfecting  some 
plan  for  their   settlement   in    life  —  he 


knows  that  there  is  a  Husband  of  the 
widow  and  a  Father  of  the  fatherless^ 
and  the  only  wish  which  could  put  a 
check  on  his  spirit,  as  the  plumes  of  its 
wing  just  feel  the  free  air,  is  that  he 
might  toil  a  little  longer  for  Christ,  and 
do  at  least  some  fractions  more  of  his 
work,  ere  ushered  into  the  light  of  his 
presence.  And  if  the  sinking  energies 
were  suddenly  recruited,  so  that  the 
pulse  of  the  expiring  man  beat  again  vi- 
gorously ;  it  might  at  first  seem  painful 
to  him  to  be  snatched  back  from  glory ; 
but  remembering,  that,  whilst  vice  is 
enthroned  on  the  high  places  of  the  earth, 
and  millions  bow  down  to  the  stock  and 
the  stone,  there  is  a  mighty  demand  for 
all  the  strenuousness  of  the  righteous, 
he  would  use  returning  sti-ength  in  ut- 
tering the  confession,  it  is  good  that  I 
yet  wait  and  hope  for  salvation. 

Now  in  winding  up  this  subject  of 
discourse,  we  have  only  to  remark  that 
religion  gives  a  character  to  hope  of 
which  otherwise  it  is  altogether  destitute. 
You  will  scarcely  find  tlie  man,  in  all  the 
ranges  of  our  creation,  whose  bosom 
bounds  not  at  the  mention  of  hope. 
What  is  hope  but  the  solace  and  stay  of  ■ 
those  whom  it  most  cheats  and  deludes  ; 
whispering  of  health  to  the  sick  man,  and 
of  better  days  to  the  dejected  ;  the  fairy 
name  on  which  young  imaginations  pour 
forth  all  the  poetry  of  their  souls,  and 
whose  syllables  float,  like  anial  music, 
into  the  ear  of  frozen  and  paralyzed  old 
age  1  In  the  long  catalogue  of  human 
griefs  there  is  scarce  one  of  so  crushing 
a  pressure  that  ho])e  loses  its  elasticity, 
becoming  unable  to  soar,  and  bring  down 
fresh  and  fair  leaves  from  some  far-off 
domain  which  itself  creates.  And  yet, 
whilst  hope  is  the  great  inciter  to  exertion, 
and  the  great  soother  of  wretchedness, 
who  knows  not  that  it  ordinarily  deceives 
mankind,  and  that,  though  it  crowd  the 
future  with  glorious  resting- j)laces,  and 
thus  tempt  us  to  bear  up  a  while  against 
accumulated  disasters,  its  palaces  and 
gardens  vanish  as  we  approach ;  and  we 
are  kept  from  despair  only  because  the 
pinnacles  and  forests  of  another  bright 
scene  fringe  the  horizon,  and  the  deceiver 
finds  us  willing  to  be  yet  again  deceived  1 
Hope  is  a  beautifid  meteor  :  but,  never- 
theless, this  meteor,  like  the  rainbow,  is 
not  only  lovely  because  of  its  seven  rich 
and  radiant  stripes  ;  it  is  the  memorial  of 
a  covenant  between  man  and  his  Maker, 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OP  A  STATE  OP  EXPECTATION. 


Ill 


telling- US  that  we  are  born  for  immortal- 
ity ;  deHtiiied,  unless  we  s(^pulclire  our 
greatness,  to  the  highest  honor  and  no- 
blest happiness.  Hope  proves  man 
deathless.  It  is  the  struggle  of  the  soul, 
breaking  loose  from  what  is  perishable, 
and  attesting  her  eternity.  And  when 
the  eye  of  the  mind  is  turned  upon  Christ, 
"  delivered  for  our  oflences  and  raised 
again  for  our  justification,"  Romans,  4  : 
25,  the  unsubstantial  and  deceitful  cha- 
racter is  tak^en  away  from  hope  :  hope  is 
one  of  the  prime  pieces  of  that  armor  of 
proof  iu  which  the  believer  is  arrayed  ; 
for  St.  Paul  bids  us  take  "  for  an  helmet 
the  hope  of  salvation."  1  Thess.  5  :  8. 
It  is  not  good  that  a  man  hope  for  wealth, 
since  "  riches  ])rofit  not  in  the  day  of 
wrath  ;  "  Prov.  11:4;  and  it  is  not  good 
that  he  hope  for  human  honors,  since  the 
mean  and  mighty  go  down  to  the  same 
burial :  but  it  is  good  that  he  hope  for 
salvation ;  the  meteor  then  gathers,  like 
a  golden  halo,  round  his  head,  and,  as  he 
presses  forward  in  the  battle-time,  no 
weapon  of  the  evil  one  can  pierce 
thj-ough  that  helmet. 

It  is  good,  then,  that  he  hope  :  it  is 
good  also  that  he  rjuietly  wait.  There  is 
much  promised  in  Scripture  to  the  wait- 
ing upon  God.  Men  wish  an  immediate 
answer  to  prayer,  and  think  themselves 
forgotten  unless  the  reply  be  instantan- 
eous. It  is  a  great  mistake.  The  delay 
is  often  part,  and  the  best  part,  of  the 
answer.  It  exercises  faith,  and  hope, 
and  patience  ;  and  what  better  thing  can 
be  done  tor  us  than  the  strensfthening 
those  graces  to  whose  growth  shall  be 
proportioned  the  splendors  of  our  im- 
mortality ]  It  is  good,  then,  that  ye  wait, 
"  They  that  wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  re- 
new their  strength  ;  they  shall  mount  up 
with  wings  as  eagles  ;  they  shall  run,  and 
not  be  weary  ;  and  they  shall  walk,  and 
not  faint."  Isa.  40  :  31.  And  ye  must, 
according  to  the  phrase  of  our  text, 
wait  for  God.  "  The  Lord  is  a  God  of 
judgment ;  blessed  are  all  they  that  wait 
for  him."  Isa.  30  :  18.  And  if  the  time 
seem  long,  and,  worn  down  with  affliction 
and  wearied  with  toil,  ye  feel  impatient 
for  the  moment  of  full  emancipation — 
remember  ye — and  let  the  remembrance 
check  every  murmur — that  God  leaves 
you  upon  earth  in  order  that,  advancing 
in  holiness,  you  may  secure  yourselves  a 
higher  grade  amongst  the  children  of  the 


first  resurrection.  Strive  ye,  therefore, 
to  "  let  patience  have  her  perfect  woi-k," 
James,  1:4.  It  is  "yet  a  little  while, 
and  he  that  shall  come  will  come."  Heb. 
10  :  37.  Be  ye  not  disheartened  ;  for 
"  the  night  is  far  spent,  the  day  is  at 
hand."  Rom,  13  :  12.  As  yet  there 
has  been  no  day  to  this  creation,  since 
rebellion  wove  the  sackcloth  into  the 
over-head  canopy.  But  the  day  comes 
onward.  There  is  that  edge  of  gold  on 
the  snow-mountains  of  a  long-darkened 
world,  which  marks  the  ascending  of  the 
sun  in  his  strength.  "  Watchman,  what 
of  the  night  1  Watchman,  what  of  the 
night?  The  watchman  said,  the  morn- 
injj  cometh  and  also  the  night."  Isa.  21  : 
11,  12,  Strange  that  morning  and  night 
should  come  hand  in  hand.  But  the 
morning  to  the  righteous,  as  bringing 
salvation,  shall  be  the  night  to  the  wick- 
ed, as  bringing  destruction.  On  then, 
still  on,  lest  the  morning  break,  ere  ho- 
ping and  waiting  have  wrought  their  in- 
tent. Who  will  sleep,  when,  as  he  slum- 
bers, bright  things  glide  by,  which,  if 
wakeful,  he  might  have  added  to  his  por- 
tion  1  Who  will  put  off'lhe  armor,  when, 
by  stemming  the  battle-tide,  he  may 
gather,  every  instant,  spoil  and  trophies 
for  eternity  1  Who  will  tamper  with 
carnal  indulgences,  when,  for  the  poor 
enjoyment  of  a  second,  he  must  barter 
some  ever-during  privilege  1  Wrestle, 
strive,  fight,  as  men  who  "  know  that 
your  labor  is  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord," 
1  Cor,  15  :  58,  Ye  cannot  indeed  merit 
advancement.  What  is  called  reward 
will  be  the  reward  of  nothing  but  God's 
work  within  you,  and,  therefore,  be  a 
gift  most  royal  and  gratuitous.  But 
whilst  there  is  the  strongest  instituted 
connection  between  attainment  here  and 
enjoyment  hereafter,  we  need  not  pause 
upon  terms,  but  may  summon  you  to 
holiness  by  the  certainties  of  happiness. 
The  Judge  of  mankind  cometh,  bring- 
ing with  him  rewards  all  wonderfully 
glorious  ;  but,  nevertheless,  "  one  star 
differeth  from  another  star  in  glory."  1 
Cor.  15:  41. 

O  God,  it  were  an  overwhelming 
mercy,  and  a  magnificent  portion,  if  we 
should  obtain  the  least ;  but  since  thou 
dost  invite,  yea,  command  us  to  "  strive 
for  masteries,"  we  will  struggle — thy 
grace  being  our  strength — for  the  higher 
and  more  beautiful. 


15 


IH 


TRUTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  JESUS. 


SERMON    XI 


TRUTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  JESUS. 


"  B'll  yc  hare  not  so  learned  Christ ;  if  so  be  that  ye  have  heard  him,  and  have  been  taught  by  him,  as  the  tratb  is 

in  Jesua." — Ephesians,  iv.  20,  21. 


There  is  a  singular  verse  in  the  Book 
of  Ecclesiastes  which  appears  directed 
against  a  common,  though,  perhaps,  un- 
suspected error.  "  Say  not  thou  what 
is  the  cause  that  the  former  days  were 
better  than  these  ]  for  thou  dost  not  in- 
quire wisely  concerning  this."  Eccl.  7  : 
10.  We  believe  that  there  exists  a  dis- 
2>ositioti  in  persons,  and  especially  in 
old  persons,  to  set  present  years  in  con- 
trast with  the  past,  and  to  prove  from 
the  comparison,  a  great  and  on-going 
deterioration  in  the  character  of  man- 
kind. And  it  is  quite  certain,  that,  if 
this  disposition  were  observable  in  So- 
lomon's days,  as  well  as  in  our  own,  it 
must  pass  ordinarily  as  the  mark  of  a 
jaundiced  and  ill-judging  mind.  If  it 
has  been  true  in  some  ages,  it  cannot 
have  been  in  all,  that  the  moral  aspect 
of  the  times  has  grown  gradually  dark- 
er. We  must  be  warranted,  therefore, 
in  ascribing  a  disposition  which  has  sub- 
sisted through  days  of  improvement,  as 
well  as  of  declension,  to  a  peevish  de- 
termination to  find  fault,  and  not  to  a 
sober  sitting  in  judgment  upon  matters 
of  fact. 

IJut  the  workings  of  the  very  same 
disposition  may  be  traced  under  other 
and  less  obvious  forms.  We  believe, 
for  exair.ple,  that  men  are  often  inclin- 
ed to  compare  the  religious  advantages 
of  the  earlier  and  later  days  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  to  uphold  the  superiority  of 
the  past  to  the  present.  It  is  imagined, 
that  to  have  been  numbered  amongst  the 
living  when  Jesus  sojourned  upon  earth, 
to  have  been  permitted  to  behold  the 
miracles  which  he  wrought,  and  to  hear 
■from  his  own  lips  the  truths  of  redemp- 


tion— it  is  imagined,  we  say,  that  there 
must  have  been  in  this  a  privilege  am- 
pler in  dimensions  than  any  which  falls 
to  men  of  later  generations.  And  from 
such  imagining  there  will  spring  often 
a  kind  of  excusing,  whether  of  infideli- 
ty, or  of  lukewarmness  :  our  not  believ- 
ing at  all,  or  our  believing  only  languid- 
ly, being  accounted  for  on  the  principle, 
that  the  evidence  afforded  is  far  less 
than  might  have  been  vouchsafed. 
Thus,  under  a  specious,  but  more  dan- 
gerous aspect,  we  are  met  again  by  the 
question,  "  What  is  the  cause  that  the 
former  days  were  better  than  these  1 " 

Now  we  believe  the  question  to  be 
grounded  altogether  on  mistake.  If  there 
be  advantage  on  one  side  as  contrasted 
with  the  other,  we  are  persuaded  that  it 
lies  with  the  present  generation,  and  not 
with  the  pa^st.  It  is  true  that  the  exhi- 
biti(m  of  miraculous  energies,  which 
was  made  in  the  cities  of  Judea,  gave 
what  ought  to  have  been  overwhelming 
attestation  to  the  divinity  of  the  mission 
of  Jesus.  If  we  possessed  not  the  re- 
cords of  history  to  assure  us  of  the  con- 
trary, we  might  be  disposed  to  conclude, 
with  much  appearance  of  fainiess,  tliat 
they  who  beheld  diseases  scattered,  and 
death  mastered,  by  a  word,  must  have 
instantly  followed  Him  who  wrought 
out  the  marvels.  Yet  we  may  easily 
certify  ourselves  that  the  Jew  was  oc- 
cupied by  prejudices  which  must  have 
more  than  counterbalanced  his  peculiar 
advantages.  Ho  had  befoje  him,  so  to 
speak,  a  sketch  of  his  Messiah,  whose 
accuracy  he  never  thought  of  question- 
ing; and  if  a  claimant  of  the  Messiah- 
ship  presented  not  the  features  which 


TRUTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  JESUS. 


115 


were  foremost  in  this  sketch,  then,  al- 
most, as  a  matter  of  course,  his  preten- 
sions were  rejected  with  scorn.  It  is 
nothing  to  say  that  ancient  prophecy, 
more  thoroughly  investigated,  might 
have  taught  the  Jew  the  error  of  ex- 
pecting, on  the  first  advent  of  Messiah, 
a  temporal  prince  and  deliverer.  The 
error  was  so  ingrained  into  his  spirit, 
that  it  was  easier  for  him  to  refer  mira- 
cles to  the  power  of  the  evil  one,  than 
suspect  that  he  harbored  a  false  expect- 
Cation.  So  that,  when  we  compare  our 
own  circumstances  with  those  of  the 
Jew,  it  behooves  us  to  remember,  that,  if 
we  have  not  his  advantages  in  superna- 
tural manifestations,  neither  have  we 
his  disadvantages  in  national  preposses- 
sions. We  are  not  to  argue  the  effect 
produced  upon  him,  from  that  which 
might  now  be  produced  upon  us,  by  the 
working  of  miracles.  In  his  case  every 
feeling  which  results  from  early  associ- 
ation, or  from  the  business  of  education, 
was  enlisted  against  Christianity  ;  where- 
as it  may  almost  be  affirmed,  that,  in  our 
case,  every  such  feeling  is  on  the  side  of 
Christianity.  i£,  therefore,  we  allow  that 
the  testimony,  which  we  possess  to  the 
truth  of  our  religion,  wears  not  outward- 
ly the  same  mightiness  as  that  afforded 
in  the  days  of  the  Savior,  we  should  still 
contend  that  the  predisposing  circum- 
stances in  our  own  case  far  more  than 
compensate  the  sensible  witness  in  that 
of  the  Jew. 

We  may  yet  further  observe,  that 
not  only  are  our  disadvantages  less,  but, 
on  a  stricter  examination,  our  advanta- 
ges will  appear  greater.  We  may  think 
there  would  have  been,  a  vast  advantage 
in  seeing  Jesus  work  miracles  ;  but,  af- 
ter all,  we  could  only  have  believed  that 
he  actually  worked  them.  And  if  we 
can  once  certify  ourselves  of  this  fact, 
we  occupy,  in  the  strictest  sense,  the 
same  position  as  though  we  had  been 
spectators  of  the  wonder.  It  would  be 
altogether  childish  to  maintain,  that  I 
may  not  be  just  as  certain  of  a  thing 
which  I  have  not  seen,  as  of  another 
which  I  have  seen.  Who  is  in  any  de- 
gree less  confident,  that  there  was  once 
such  a  king  as  Henry  the  Eighth  on  the 
throne  of  these  realms,  than  that  there 
is  now  such  a  king  as  William  the 
Fourth  1  Or  is  there  one  of  us  who 
thinks  that  he  would  have  felt  more  sure 
of  there  havinjr  been  such   a  kino:  as 


Henry  the  Eighth,  had  he  lived  in  the 
times  of  that  monarch  in  place  of  the 
present  ?  We  hold  then  the  supposition 
to  be  indefensible,  that  the  spectator  of 
a  miracle  has  necessarily  an  advantage 
over  those  who  only  hear  of  that  mira- 
cle. Let  there  be  clear  and  unequivo- 
cal testimony  to  the  fact  of  the  miracle 
having  been  wrought,  and  the  spectator 
and  the  hearer  stand  well  nigh  on  a  par. 
That  there  should  be  belief  in  the  fact, 
is  the  highest  result  which  can,  in  either 
case,  be  produced.  But  assuredly  this 
result  may  as  well  be  effected  by  the 
power  of  authenticated  witness,  as  by 
the  machinery  of  our  senses.  And, 
without  question,  the  testimony  to  the 
truth  of  Christianity  is  of  so  growing  a 
character,  and  each  age,  as  it  rolls 
away,  pays  in  so  large  a  contribution  to 
the  evidences  of  faith,  that  it  were  easy 
to  prove,  that  the  men  of  the  present 
generation  gain,  rather  than  lose,  by  dis- 
tance from  the  first  erection  of  the  cross. 
It  is  saying  but  little,  to  affirm  that  we 
have  as  good  grounds  of  persuasion  that 
Jesus  came  from  God,  as  we  should 
have  had,  if  permitted  to  behold  the 
mighty  workings  of  his  power.  We  are 
bold  to  say  that  we  have  even  bettei' 
grounds.  The  testimony  of  our  senses, 
however  convincing  for  the  moment,  is 
of  so  fleeting  and  unsubstantial  a  charac- 
ter, that  a  year  or  two  after  we  had  seen 
a  miracle,  we  might  be  brought  to  ques 
tion  whether  there  had  not  been  jug- 
glery in  the  worker,  or  credulity  in  our- 
selves. If  we  found  a  nation  up  in  arms, 
maintaining  that  there  might  have  been 
mao^ic  or  trickery,  but  that  there  had  not 
been  supernatural  power;  we  might, 
perchance,  be  easily  borne  down  by  the 
outcry,  if  the  remembered  witness  of 
our  eye-sight  were  all  to  which  appeal 
could  be  made.  It  is  not  difficult  to 
begin  to  suspect  ourselves  in  the  wrong, 
when  we  find  no  one  willing  to  allow 
us  in  the  right.  And  we  therefore  main- 
tain, that  living  as  we  do  in  a  day  when 
generation  after  generation  has  sat  in 
assize  on  Christianity,  and  registered  a 
verdict  that  it  has  God  for  its  author, 
we  possess  the  very  largest  advantages 
over  those  who  saw  with  their  own  eyes 
what  Jesus  did,  and  heard  with  their  own 
ears  what  Jesus  said. 

Now  you  may  not  all  readily  perceive 
the  connection  of  these  remarks  with- 
the  passage  of  Scripture  on  which  we 


116 


TRUTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  JESUS. 


purpose  to  meditate.  Yet  the  connec- 
tion is  of  the  strictest.  The  apostle  ad- 
dresses liimsclf  to  converts,  who,  like 
ourselves,  had  not  been  privileged  to 
behold  the  Savior  of  maniiind.  Christ 
Jesus  had  not  walked  the  streets  of 
Ephesus :  and  if  it  be  supposable  that 
certain  of  the  inhabitants  of  that  idola- 
trous city  had  visited  Judea  during  the 
period  of  his  sojourning  on  earth,  it  is 
incredible  that  the  Epliesian  Church,  as 
a  body,  had  enjoyed  with  Him  peisonal 
communion.  Does  then  St.  Paul  ad- 
dress the  Ephesians  as  though  disad- 
vantaged by  this  circumstance  ?  Does 
he  rcpiesent  them  as  less  favored  than 
their  brethren  of  Jerusalem  who  had 
lived  within  the  circles  of  Christ's  min- 
istrations 1  On  the  conti-ary,  you  would 
judge,  from  the  style  of  his  address, 
that  he  wrote  this  Epistle  to  Jewish, 
and  not  to  heathen  converts.  He  speaks 
to  the  Ephesians  of  their  having  heard 
Christ,  and  of  their  having  been  taught 
by  Christ.  "  If  so  be  that  ye  have 
heard  him,  and  have  been  taught  by 
him."  And  what  shall  we  gather  from 
this,  but  a  rigid  confirmation  of  our  fore- 
going remarks ;  a  strengthening  of  the 
opinion,  that  those  who  have  not  seen 
may  stand  in  precisely  the  same  posi- 
tion as  those  who  have  ;  and  that,  con- 
sequently, the  absence  of  what  may  be 
called  sensible  proof,  furnishes  no 
ground-work  of  complaint,  that  "  the 
former  days  were  better  than  these  ]  " 

We  must,  indeed,  allow  that  the 
Ephesians  were  brought,  more  nearly 
than  ourselves,  into  personal  contact 
with  Christ,  because  instructed  by  teach- 
ers who  had  seen  the  Savior  in  the 
flesh.  Yet  as  soon  as  testimony  ceases 
to  be  the  testimony  of  senses,  and  be- 
comes that  of  witnesses,  there  is  an 
identification  of  the  circumstances  of 
men  of  former  times,  and  of  latter. 
Whether  the  testimony  be  transmitted 
through  one,  or  through  many  ;  whether 
we  receive  it  from  those  who  themselves 
saw  the  Savior,  or  from  those  who  have 
taken  the  facts  on  the  witness  of  others  ; 
there  is  the  same  distinction  between 
sucli  testimony,  and  that  resulting  from 
being  actual  spectators,  or  actual  au- 
ditors ;  and  it  might,  therefore,  be  said 
to  us,  as  well  as  to  the  Ephesians,  ye 
have  heard  Christ,  and  ye  have  been 
taught  by  Christ. 

But  the  portion  of  our  text  on  which 


we  would  fix  mainly  your  attention  ia 
the  description  of  truth  as  made  known 
by  revelation.  The  teaching  whereof 
the  Ephesians  had  been  the  subjects, 
and  which,  therefore,  we  are  bound  to 
consider  imparted  to  ourselves,  is  ex- 
pressly stated  to  be  "  as  the  truth  is  in 
Jesus."  Now  this  is  a  singular  defini- 
tion of  truth,  and  well  worth  your  closest 
attention.  We  hold  it  unquestionable, 
that,  long  ere  Christ  came  into  the  world, 
much  of  truth,  yea,  of  solid  and  illustri- 
ous truth,  had  been  detected  by  the  un- 
aided searchings  of  mankind.  We 
should  not  think  that  any  advantage 
were  gained  to  the  cause  of  revelation, 
if  we  succeeded  in  demonstrating,  that, 
over  the  whole  face  of  our  planet,  with 
the  lonely  exception  of  the  naiTow  pro- 
vince of  Judea,  there  had  rested,  pre- 
viously to  the  birth  of  the  Redeemer,  a 
darkness  altogether  impenetrable.  We 
are  quite  ready  to  allow,  that,  where  the 
full  blaze  was  not  made  visible,  glim- 
merings and  sparklings  were  caught ;  so 
that,  if  upon  no  point,  connected  with 
futurity,  perfect  information  were  ob- 
tained, upon  many  points  a  degree  of  in- 
telligence was  reached  which  should  not 
be  overlooked  in  our  estimate  of  hea- 
thenism. We  think  it  right  to  assert, 
under  certain  limitations,  that  man, 
whilst  left  to  himself,  dug  frafrments  of 
truth  from  the  mighty  quarry ;  though 
we  know  that  he  possessed,  not  the 
ability  of  fashioning  completely  the  sta- 
tue, nor  even  of  combining  into  symme- 
try the  detached  portions  brought  up  by 
his  oft-renewed  strivings.  We  do  not, 
therefore,  suppose  it  implied  in  the  ex- 
pression of  our  text,  that  truth  was  un- 
known amongst  men  until,  having  been 
taught  by  the  Redeemer,  it  might  be  de- 
signated "  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus."  On 
the  contrary,  we  are  persuaded  that  the 
Ephesians,  however  shut  out  from  the 
advantages  of  previous  revelations,  pos- 
sessed many  elements  of  moral  truth  be- 
fore Christ's  apostles  appeared  in  their 
city.  Hence  the  definition  of  our  text 
implies  not,  that,  out  of  Jesus,  there  were 
no  discoverable  manifestations  of  truth  ; 
but  rather,  that  truth,  when  seen  in  and 
through  Jesus,  assumes  new  and  dis- 
tinguishing ieatures.  And  it  is  upon 
this  fact  we  desire,  on  the  present  occa- 
sion, to  turn  the  main  of  your  attention. 
We  admit  that  certain  portions  of  Ciirist's 
teaching  related   to   truths  vvhicl;  were 


TRUTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  JESUS. 


117 


net  then,  for  the  first  time,  made  known 
to  mankind.  Other  poilions  either  in- 
volved new  disclosures,  or  brought  facts 
into  notice  which  had  been  strangely 
and  fatally  overlooked.  But  whether 
tlie  truth  wei-e  new  or  old,  the  circum- 
stance of  its  being  truth  "  as  it  is  in  Je- 
sus," gave  it  an  aspect,  and  a  character, 
which  it  would  never  have  assumed,  if 
communicated  through  another  channel 
than  the  Mediator.  Such  we  hold  to  be 
the  drift  of  the  expression.  It  becomes, 
then,  our  business  to  endeavor  to  prove, 
that  "  truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  puts  on  a 
clothing,  or  a  coloring,  derived  from  the 
Redeemer ;  so  that  if  you  separate  truth 
from  him  who  is  "  the  way,  the  truth, 
and  the  life,"  John,  14  :  6,  it  shall  seem 
practically  a  different  thing  from  itself 
when  connected  with  this  glorious  per- 
sonage. 

Now  we  shall  take  truth  under  two 
principal  divisions,  and  compare  it  as 
"it  is  in  Jesus  "  with  what  it  is  out  of 
Jesus.  We  shall  refer,  first,  to  those 
truths  which  have  to  do  with  God's  na- 
ture and  character ;  secondly,  to  those 
which  have  to  do  with  man's  condition. 
There  may  be,  indeed,  many  minor  de- 
partments of  moral  truth.  But  we  think 
that  these  two  great  divisions  include 
most,  if  not  all,  of  the  lesser. 

We  turn  then,  first,  to  the  truths  which 
have  to  do  with  the  nature  and  charac- 
ter of  God.  We  begin  with  the  lowest 
element  of  truth  ;  namely,  that  there  is 
a  great  first  cause,  through  whose  agency 
hath  arisen  the  fair  and  costly  fabric  of 
the  visible  universe.  We  have  here  a 
truth,  which,  under  some  shape  or  an- 
other, has  been  recognized  and  held  in 
every  age,  and  by  every  nation.  Barba- 
rism and  civilization  have  had  to  do  with 
peculiar  forms  and  modifications  of  this 
truth.  But  neither  the  rude  processes 
of  the  one,  nor  the  attenuating  of  the 
other,  have  availed  to  produce  its  utter 
banishment  from  the  earth.  However 
ranous  the  tribes  into  which  the  human 
race  hath  been  broken,  the  phenomenon 
has  never  existed  of  a  nation  of  atheists. 
The  voyagers  who  have  passed  over 
waters  which  had  never  been  ploughed 
by  the  seamen,  and  lighted  upon  islands 
whose  loneliness  had  shut  them  out  from 
the  knowledge  and  companionship  of 
other  districts  of  the  globe,  have  found 
always,  amid  the  savago  and  secluded 
Inhabitants,  the  notion  of  some  invisible 


being,  great  in  his  power,  and  awful  in 
his  vengeance.  We  cannot,  therefore, 
in  any  sense  maintain,  that  the  truth  of 
the  existence  of  a  God  was  undiscovered 
truth,  so  long  as  it  was  not  "  truth  as  it 
is  in  .Tesjis."  Christ  came  not  to  teach 
what  natural,  or  rather  traditional,  reli- 
gion was  capable  of  teaching  ;  though  he 
gave  sanctions  to  its  lessons,  of  which, 
heretofore,  they  had  been  altogether  des- 
titute. But  take  the  truth  of  the  exist- 
ence of  a  God  as  it  is  out  of  Jesus,  and 
then  take  that  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus, 
and  let  us  see  whether,  in  the  two  ca- 
ses, the  same  truth  will  not  bear  a  very 
different  aspect. 

We  know  it  to  be  said  of  Christ  by 
St.  Paul,  that  he  was  "  the  image  of  the 
invisible  God."  Colos.  1 :  15.  It  seems 
to  us  that  the  sense,  in  which  Christ  is 
the  image,  is  akin  to  that  in  which  he  is 
the  word  of  the  Almighty.  What  speech 
is  to  thought,  that  is  the  incarnate  Son 
to  the  invisible  Father.  Thought  is  a 
viewless  thing.  It  can  traverse  space, 
and  run  to  and  fro  through  creation,  and 
pass  instantaneously  from  one  extreme 
of  the  scale  of  being  to  the  other;  and, 
all  the  while,  there  is  no  power  in  my 
fellow-men  to  discern  the  careerings  of 
this  mysterious  agent.  But  speech  is 
manifested  thought.  It  is  thought  em- 
bodied ;  made  sensible,  and  palpable,  to 
those  who  could  not  apprehend  it  in  its 
secret  and  silent  expatiations.  And  pre- 
cisely what  speech  thus  effects  in  regard 
to  thought,  the  incarnate  Son  effected  in 
regard  to  the  invisible  Father.  The  Son 
is  the  manifested  Father,  and,  therefore, 
fitly  termed  "  the  Word  :  "  the  relation 
between  the  incarnate  Son  and  the  Fa- 
ther being  accurately  that  between 
speech  and  thought ;  the  one  exhibiting 
and  setting  forth  the  other.  It  is  in 
somewhat  of  a  similar  sense  that  Christ 
may  be  termed  "  the  image  of  the  invi- 
sible God."  "  God  is  a  Spirit."  John, 
4:  24.  Of  this  spirit  the  creation  is 
every  where  full,  and  the  loneliest  and 
most  secluded  spot  is  occupied  by  its 
presence-  Nevertheless,  we  can  discern 
little  of  the  universal  goings  forth  of  this 
Deity.  There  are  works  above  us,  and 
around  us,  which  present  tokens  of  his 
wisdom  and  supremacy.  But  these, 
after  all,  are  only  feeble  manifestations 
of  his  more  illustrious  attributes.  Nay, 
they  leave  those  attributes  well-nigh 
wholly  uurevealed.    I  cannot  learn  God's 


118 


TRUTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  JESUS. 


holiness  from  the  stars  or  the  mountains. 
I  cannot  read  his  faithtuhiess  in  the  ocean 
or  the  cataract.  Even  his  wisdom,  and 
power,  and  love,  are  but  faintly  portray- 
ed in  the  torn  and  disjointed  fragments 
of  this  fallen  creation.  And  seeing, 
therefore,  that  Deity,  invisible  as  to  his 
essence,  can  become  visible  as  to  his  at- 
tributes, only  through  some  direct  mani- 
festation not  found  in  his  material  work- 
manship, God  sent  his  well-beloved  Son 
to  assume  our  flesh  ;  and  this  Son,  ex- 
hibiting in  and  through  his  humanity  as 
much  of  his  divine  properties  as  crea- 
tureship  could  admit,  became  unto  man- 
kind "  the  image  of  the  invisible  God." 
He  did  not,  in  strict  matter-of-fact,  re- 
veal to  mankind  that  there  is  a  God. 
But  he  made  known  to  them,  most  pow- 
erfully, and  most  abundantly,  the  nature 
and  attributes  of  God.  The  beams  of 
divinity,  passing  through  his  humanity 
as  through  a  softening  medium,  shone 
upon  the  earth  with  a  lustre  sufficiently 
tempered  to  allow  of  their  irradiating, 
without  scorching  and  consuming.  And 
they  who  gazed  on  this  mysterious  per- 
son, moving  in  his  purity,  and  his  bene- 
volence, through  the  lines  of  a  depraved 
and  scornful  population,  saw  not  indeed 
God — "  for  no  man  hath  seen  God  at 
any  time,"  1  John,  4  :  12,  and  spirit 
must  necessarily  evade  the  searchings 
of  sense — but  they  saw  God  imaged 
with  the  most  thorough  fidelity,  and  his 
every  property  embodied,  so  far  as  the 
immaterial  can  discover  itself  through 
the  mateiial. 

Now  we  think  you  can  scarcely  fail 
to  perceive,  that  if 'you  detach  the  truth 
of  the  being  of  a  God  from  Jesus,  and 
if  you  then  take  this  truth  "  as  it  is  in 
Jesus,"  the  difference  in  aspect  is  almost 
a  difference  in  the  truth  itself.  Apart 
from  revelation,  T  can  believe  that  there 
is  a  God.  I  look  up:r  the  wonder- 
workings  by  which  I  ao  encompassed  ; 
and  I  must  sacrifice  all  that  belongs  to 
me  as  a  rational  creature,  if  I  espouse 
the  theory  that  chance  has  been  parent 
to  the  splendid  combinations.  But  what 
can  be  more  vague,  what  more  indefi- 
nite, than  those  notions  of  Deity,  which 
reason,  at  the  best,  is  capable  of  form- 
ing ?  The  evil  which  is  mixed  with 
good  in  the  creation  ;  the  disordered  ap- 
pearances which  seem  to  mark  the  ab- 
sence of  a  supreme  and  vigilant  govern- 
ment ;  the  frequent  triumph  of  wicked- 


ness, and  the  correspondent  depression 
of  virtue ;  these,  and  the  like  stern  and 
undeniable  mysteries,  will  perplex  me 
in  every  attempt  to  master  satisfactorily 
the  Unity  of  Godhead.  But  let  me  re- 
gard Jesus  as  making  known  to  me  God, 
and  straightway  there  succeeds  a  calm 
to  my  confused  and  unsettled  imaginings. 
He  tells  me  by  his  words,  and  shows  me 
by  his  actions,  that  all  things  are  at  the 
disposal  of  one  eternal  and  inscrutable 
Creator.  Putting  forth  superhuman 
ability  alike  in  the  bestowment  of  what 
is  good,  and  in  the  removal  of  what  is 
evil,  he  furnishes  me  with  the  strictest 
demonstration  that  there  are  not  two 
principles  which  can  pretend  to  hold 
sway  in  the  universe  ;  but  that  God,  a 
being  without  rival,  and  alone  in  his  ma- 
jesties, created  whatsoever  is  good,  and 
permitted  whatsoever  is  evil. 

Thus  the  truth,  the  foundation  of 
truth,  of  the  existence  of  a  God,  takes 
the  strength,  and  the  complexion,  of 
health,  only  in  the  degree  that  it  is  truth 
"  as  it  is  in  Jesus."  Men  labored  and 
strugsrled  hard  to  reach  the  doctrine  of 
the  unity  of  Godhead.  But  philosophy, 
with  all  the  splendor  of  its  discoveries, 
could  never  banish  polytheism  from  the 
earth.  It  was  resen-ed  for  Christianity 
to  establish  a  truth  which,  now,  we  are 
disposed  to  class  amongst  the  elements 
of  even  natural  theology.  And  when 
you  contrast  the  belief  in  the  existence 
of  Deity  which  obtained  generally  be- 
fore the  coming  of  Christ,  with  that  es- 
tablished wheresoever  the  Gospel  gains 
footing  as  a  communication  from  hea- 
ven;  the  one,  a  belief  in  many  gods; 
the  other,  a  belief  in  one  God — the  first, 
therefore,  a  belief  from  which  i^eason 
herself  now  instinctively  recoils  ;  tho 
second,  a  belief,  which  cannes  on  its 
front  the  dignity  and  beauty  of  a  sulv 
lime  moral  fact — why,  you  will  all  quick- 
ly admit  that  the  truth  of  the  existence 
of  God,  as  it  is  out  of  Jesus,  differs, 
immeasurably,  from  that  same  truth,  "  as 
it  is  in  Jesus  :  "  and  you  will  thus  grant 
the  accuracy  of  the  proposition  now 
under  review,  namely,  that  truth  be- 
comes, practically,  new  truth,  and  ef- 
fective truth,  by  being  truth  "  as  it  is  in 
Jesus." 

Now,  so  far  as  natural  theology  is 
concerned,  we  derive,  ordinarily,  the 
truth  of  tho  existence  of  God  from  the 
curious    and   mighty    workmanship    of 


TRUTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  JESUS. 


119 


the  visible  creation.  We  conclude  that 
a  great  intelligent  cause  must  have 
epread  out  this  panorama  of  grandeur, 
and  loveliness,  and  contrivance.  But 
let  us  deal  with  the  truth  tliat  God 
built  the  worlds,  just  as  with  the  other 
truth  of  there  being  a  God.  Let  us  take 
it  out  of  Jesus,  and  then  let  us  take  it 
in  Jesus. 

It  is  a  vast  deal  easier  for  the  mind  to 

Eush  onward  into  what  is  to  come,  than 
ackward  mto  what  is  past.  Let  a  thing 
exist,  and  we  can,  in  a  certain  sense, 
master  the  thought  of  its  existence  be- 
ing indefinitely  continued.  But  if,  in 
searching  out  the  beginnings  of  its  exist- 
ence, we  can  find  no  period  at  which  it 
was  not,  then  pi-esently  the  mind  is  con- 
founded, and  the  idea  is  too  vast  for  its 
most  giant-like  grapplings.  This  is  ex- 
actly the  case  with  regard  to  the  God- 
head. We  are  able,  comparatively 
speaking,  to  take  in  the  truth,  that  God 
shall  never  cease  to  be.  But  we  have  no 
capacity  whatsoever  for  this  other  ti-uth, 
that  God  hath  always  been.  I  could  go 
back  a  thousand  ages,  or  a  million  ages, 
ay,  or  a  thousand  millions  of  ages  ;  and 
though  the  mind  might  be  wearied  with 
traversing  so  vast  a  district  of  time,  yet 
if  I  then  reached  a  point  where  pausing 
I  might  say,  here  Deity  began,  here  God- 
head first  rose  into  being,  the  worn 
spirit  would  recruit  itself,  and  feel  that 
the  end  compensated  the  toil  of  the 
journeying.  But  it  is  the  being  unable 
to  assign  any  beginning ;  rather,  it  is 
the  knowing  that  there  never  was  be- 
ginning ;  this  it  is,  we  say,  which  hope- 
lessly distances  every  finite  intellgence  ; 
the  most  magnificent,  but  certainly,  at 
the  same  time,  the  most  overpowering 
truth,  being  that  He,  at  whose  word  the 
univei'se  commenced,  knew  never  him- 
self a  moment  of  commencement. 

Now  the  necessity  under  which  we 
thus  lie  of  ascribing  beginning  to  God's 
works,  but  not  to  God  himself,  forces  on 
us  tlie  contemplation  of  a  period  when 
no  w(U-lds  had  started  into  being;  and 
space,  in  its  infinite  circuits,  was  full  only 
of  the  Eternal  One.  And  then  comes 
the  question,  as  to  the  design  and  pur- 
pose of  Deity  in  peopling  with  systems 
the  majestic  solitude,  and  surrounding 
himself  with  various  orders  of  crea- 
tures. We  confess,  in  all  its  breadth, 
the  truth  that  God  made  the  worlds. 
But  the  mind  passes  instantly  on  to  the 


inquiry,    why,  and    wherefore    did    He 
make  them  J 

And  if  you  take  the  truth  of  the  crea- 
tion of  the  universe  out  of  Jesus,  there 
is  nothing  but  vague  answer  to  give  to 
such  incjuiry.  We  may  think  that  God's 
benevolence  craved  dependent  objects 
over  which  it  might  pour  its  solicitudes. 
We  may  imagine  that  there  was  such 
desire  of  companionship,  even  in  Deity, 
that  it  pleased  not  the  Creator  to  re- 
main longer  alone.  But  we  must  not 
forget,  that,  in  assigning  such  reasons, 
we  verge  to  the  error  of  supposing  a 
void  in  the  happiness  of  God,  the  fiU- 
ing-up  of  which  tasked  the  energies  of 
his  Almightiness.  In  answering  a  ques- 
tion, we  are  bound  to  take  heed  that 
we  originate  not  others  far  more  difficult 
of  solution. 

We  take  then  the  truth  of  the  crea- 
tion, "  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  and  we  will  see 
whether  it  assume  not  very  different 
features  from  those  worn  by  it,  as  it  is 
out  of  Jesus.  We  learn,  from  the  tes- 
timony of  St.  Paul,  that  "  all  things 
were  created  by  Christ,  and  for  Christ." 
Col.  1  :  16,  We  would  fix  attention  to 
this  latter  fact,  "  all  things  were  crea- 
ted for  Christ."  We  gather  from  this 
fact  that  the  gorgeous  structure  of  ma- 
terialism, spreading  interminably  above 
us  and  around  us,  is  nothing  more  than 
an  august  temple,  reared  for  consecra- 
tion to  the  Mediator's  glory.  '*  All 
things  were  created  for  Christ,"  You 
ask  me  why  God  spangled  the  firma- 
ment with  stars,  and  paved  with  worlds 
the  expansions  of  an  untravelled  im- 
mensity, and  poured  forth  the  rich  en- 
dowment of  life  on  countless  myriads  of 
multiform  creatures.  And  I  tell  you, 
that,  if  you  debar  me  from  acquaintance 
with  "  God  manifest  in  the  flesh,"  1 
Tim.  3  :  16,  I  may  give  you  in  reply 
some  brilliant  guess,  or  dazzling  con- 
jecture, but  nothing  that  will  commend 
itself  to  thoughtful  and  well-disciplined 
minds.  But  the  instant  that  I  am  brought 
into  contact  with  revelation,  and  can 
associate  creation  with  Christ,  as  alike 
its  author  and  object,  I  have  an  answer 
which  is  altogether  free  from  the  vague- 
ness of  speculation,  I  can  tell  you  that 
the  star  twinkles  not  on  the  measureless 
expanse,  and  that  the  creatures  move 
not  on  any  one  of  those  worlds  whose 
number  outruns  our  arithmetic,  which 
hath  not  been  created  for  the  manifesta- 


120 


TRUTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  JESCS. 


lion  of  Clmst's  j^lory,  and  the  advance- 
ment of  Christ's  purposes.  We  may 
not  be  able  to  define,  with  accuracy,  the 
sublime  ends  which  shall  yet  be  attain- 
ed, when  evil  is  expelled  from  this  long- 
dehled  section  of  the  universe.  We 
know  only,  that,  though  an  inhdel  world 
is  banishing  Christ  from  its  councils,  and 
the  ranks  of  the  blasphemer  are  leagu- 
ing to  sweep  away  his  name,  and  the 
scofters  are  insolently  asking  "  where  is 
the  promise  of  his  coming  ;  "  2  Peter, 
3  :  4  ;  he  shall  descend  with  the  cloud 
and  the  hurricane  as  his  heraldry,  and 
circled  with  the  magnificent  sternness  of 
celestial  battle,  turn  the  theatre  of  his 
humiliation  into  the  theatre  of  his  tri- 
umphs. Then — when  "  the  spirits  of 
just  men  made  perfect,"  Heb.  12  :  23, 
shall  have  entered  into  the  raised  and 
glorified  bodies  ;  and  when  the  splendid 
and  rejoicing  multitude  shall  walk  forth 
on  the  new  earth,  and  be  canopied  with 
the  new  heavens — Christ  shall  emphati- 
cally "  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul ;  " 
Isa.  53  :  11  :  and  then,  from  every  field 
of  immensity,  crowded  with  admiring 
spectators,  shall  there  roll  in  the  ecstatic 
acknowledgment,  "  worthy,  worthy,  wor- 
thy is  the  Lamb."  But,  without  de- 
sccTiding  to  particulars,  we  may  assert 
it  unequivocally  proved  by  sundry  de- 
clarations of  the  Bible,  that  suns,  and 
planets,  and  angels,  and  men,  the  mate- 
rial creation  with  its  walls,  and  domes, 
and  columns,  and  the  immaterial  with 
its  train  upon  train  of  lofty  spirits — all 
these  constitute  one  vast  apparatus  for 
effecting  a  mighty  enthronement  of  Je- 
sus of  Nazareth.  And  if  you  recur  to 
the  work  of  contrast  in  which  we  are  en- 
gaged ;  if  you  compare  the  truth  of 
creation  as  it  is  out  of  Jesus  with  that 
same  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  ;  then,  when 
you  observe  that,  in  the  one  case,  the 
mind  has  nothing  of  a  resting-place — 
that  it  can  only  wander  over  the  fields 
which  God  hath  strewed  with  his  won- 
ders, confounded  by  the  lustre  without 
divining  the  intention — whereas  in  the 
other,  each  star,  each  system,  each  hu- 
man, each  celestial  being,  fills  some 
place  in  a  mechanism  which  is  working 
out  the  noble  result  of  the  coronation 
of  Christ  as  Lord  of  all ;  why,  we  feel 
that  the  assent  of  every  one  in  this  as- 
sembly must  bo  won  to  the  position,  that 
old  trutli  becomes  wellnigh  new  truth, 
by  being  truth  "  as  it  in  Jesus." 


But  we  wish  to  set  before  yoa  yet 
simpler  illustrations  of  the  matter  which 
we  are  engaged  in  demonstrating.  The 
jioint  we  have  in  hand  is  the  showing 
that  truths,  which  refer  to  God's  charac- 
ter, must  be  viewed  in  connection  with 
Jesus,  in  order  to  their  being  rightly  un- 
derstood or  justly  appreciated.  We 
have  endeavored  to  substantiate  this,  so 
far  as  the  nature  and  works  of  the  Al- 
mighty are  concerned.  Let  us  turn, 
however,  for  a  few  moments,  to  his  at- 
tributes, and  we  shall  find  our  position 
greatly  corroborated. 

We  take,  for  example,  the  justice  of 
God.  We  might  obtain,  independently 
on  the  scheme  of  redemption,  a  deKnite 
and  firm-built  persuasion,  that  God  is  a 
just  God,  taking  cognizance  of  the  trans- 
gressions of  his  creatures.  We  do  not, 
then,  so  refer  to  the  sacrifice  of  Christ 
for  proof  of  God's  justice,  as  though  no 
proof  could  be  elsewhere  obtained.  The 
God  of  natural  religion  must  be  a  God 
to  whom  sundry  perfections  are  ascrib- 
ed ;  and  amongst  such  perfections  jus- 
tice will  find,  necessarily,  a  place.  But 
we  argue  that  the  demonstration  of 
theory  will  never  commend  itself  to  men's 
minds  like  the  demonstration  of  jiractico. 
There  might  have  come  to  us  a  revela- 
tion from  heaven,  ushered  in  with  incon- 
trovertible witness  ;  and  this  revelation 
might  have  stated,  in  language  the  bold- 
est and  most  uncjualified,  that  God's  jus- 
tice could  overlook  no  iota  of  offence, 
and  dispense  with  no  tittle  of  punish- 
ment. But,  had  we  been  left  without  a 
vivid  exhibition  of  the  workings  of  this 
justice,  we  should  j^erpetually  have 
softened  down  the  statements  of  the 
woi'd,  and  argued  that,  in  all  pi-obability, 
far  more  was  said  than  ever  would  be 
done.  We  should  have  reasoned  up 
from  human  enactments  to  divine  ;  and, 
i  finding  that  the  former  are  oftentimes  far 
larger  in  the  threatening  than  in  the  ex- 
action, have  concluded  that  the  latter 
might,  at  last,  exhibit  the  like  inecjuality. 

Now,  if  we  would  deliver  the  truth 
of  God's  justice  from  these  misappre- 
hensions, whether  wilful  or  accidental, 
what  process,  we  ask  of  you,  lies  at  our 
disposal  1  It  is  quite  useless  to  try  ab- 
stract reasoning.  The  mind  can  evade 
it,  and  the  heart  has  no  concern  with  it. 
It  will  avail  nothing  to  insist  on  the  lite- 
ral force  of  expressions.  The  wiiole 
mischief  lies  in  the  questioning  the  tho- 


TRUTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  JESUS. 


121 


rough  putting-  into  effect ;  in  the  iloubt- 
ing  wlicther  what  is  denounced  shall  be 
pornt  l)y  point  inflicted.  What  then 
shall  we  du  with  this  truth  of  God's  jus^ 
tice  1  We  reply,  we  must  make  it  truth 
"  as  it  is  in  Jesus."  We  send  a  man  at 
once  to  the  cross  of  Christ.  We  bid 
him  gaze  on  the  illustrious  and  myste- 
rious victim,  stooping  beneath  the 
amazing  burden  of  human  transgression. 
We  ask  him  whether  he  think  there  was 
remission  of  penalty  on  behalf  of  Plim, 
who,  though  clothed  in  humanity,  was 
one  with  Deity  ;  or  that  the  vials  of 
wrath  were  spoiled  of  any  of  their  scald- 
ing drops,  ere  emptied  on  the  surety  of 
our  alienated  tribes  1  We  ask  him 
whether  the  agonies  of  the  garden,  and 
the  terrors  of  the  crucifixion,  furnish  not 
a  sufficient  and  thrilling  demonstration, 
that  God's  justice,  when  it  takes  in  hand 
the  exaction  of  punishment,  docs  the 
work  thoroughly ;  so  that  no  bolt  is  too 
ponderous  to  be  driven  into  the  soul,  no 
offence  too  minute  to  be  set  down  in  the 
reckoning  ]  And  if,  when  the  sword  of 
justice  awoke  against  the  fellow  of  the 
Almighty,  it  returned  not  to  the  scab- 
bard till  bathed  in  the  anguish  of  the 
sufferer;  and  if  God's  hatred  of  sin  be 
so  intense  and  overwhelming  a  thing, 
that,  ere  transgressors  could  be  received 
into  favor,  the  Eternal  Son  interposed 
and  humbled  himself  so  that  angels  drew 
back  confounded,  and  endured  vica- 
riously such  extremity  of  wretchedness 
that  the  earth  reeled  at  the  spectacle, 
and  the  heavens  were  darkened  ;  why, 
shall  there,  or  can  there,  be  harborage 
of  the  deceitful  expectation,  that  if  any 
one  of  us,  the  sons  of  the  apostate,  rush 
on  the  bosses  of  the  buckler  of  the  Lord, 
and  make  trial  for  himself  of  the  justice 
of  the  Almighty,  he  shall  not  find  that 
justice  as  strict  in  its  works  as  it  is  stern 
in  its  words,  prepared  to  deal  out  to  him, 
uns])aringly  and  unflinchingly,  the  fiery 
portion  whose  threatenings  glare  from 
the  pages  of  Scripture  ]  So  then  we 
may  c^unt  it  legitimate  to  maintain,  that 
the  truth  of  God  being  a  just  God  is  ap- 
preciated truth,  and  effective  truth,  only 
in  the  degree  that  is  truth  "  as  it  is  in 
Jesus  :  "  and  we  add,  consequently,  new 
witness  to  the  fact,  that  the  definition  of 
our  text  describes  truth  accurately  un- 
der its  influential  and  life-giving  forms. 
We  may  pursue  much  the  same  line 
of  argument  in  reference  to  the  truth 


of  the  love  of  God.  We  may  confess, 
that  he  who  looks  not  at  this  attribute 
through  the  person  and  work  of  the 
Mediator,  may  obtain  ideas  of  it  which 
shall,  in  certain  rcsjjects,  be  correct. 
And  yet,  after  all,  it  would  be  hard  to 
prove  satisfactorily,  by  natural  theolo- 
gy, that  "  God  is  love."  John,  4  :  8. 
There  may  be  a  kind  of  poetical,  or 
Arcadian  divinity,  drawn  from  the 
brightness  of  sunshine,  and  the  rich 
enamel  of  flowers,  and  the  deep  dark 
blue  of  a  sleeping  lake.  And,  taking  the 
glowing  landscape  as  their  page  of  the- 
ology, men  may  sketch  to  themselves 
God  unlimited  in  his  benevolence.  But 
when  the  sunshine  is  succeeded  by  the 
dai'kness,  and  the  flowers  are  withered, 
and  the  waters  wrought  into  madness, 
can  they  find  in  the  wrath  and  devasta- 
tion that  assurance  of  God's  love  which 
they  dei'ived,  unhesitatingly,  from  the 
calm  and  the  beauty  1  The  matter  of 
fact,  we  hold  to  be,  that  Natural  The- 
ology, at  the  best,  is  a  system  of  uncer- 
tainties, a  balancing  of  opposites.  I 
should  draw  different  conclusions  from 
the  genial  breathings  of  one  day,  and  the 
desolating  simoon  of  the  next.  And 
though  when  I  had  thrown  me  down  on 
an  alpine  summit,  and  looked  forth  on 
the  clusterings  of  the  grand  and  the 
lovely,  canopied  with  an  azure  that  was 
full  of  glory  ;  a  hope,  that  my  Creator 
loved  me,  might  have  been  gathered  from 
scenery  teeming  with  impresses  of  kind- 
ness, and  apparently  sending  out  from 
waving  forests,  and  gushing  fountains, 
and  smiling  villages,  the  anthem  of  an 
acknowledgment  that  God  is  infinitely 
beneficent ;  yet  if,  on  a  sudden,  there 
passed  around  me  the  rushings  of  the 
hurricane,  and  there  came  up  from  the 
valleys  the  shi-ieks  of  an  afirighted 
peasantry,  and  the  torrents  went  dowR 
in  their  strength,  sweeping  away  the  la- 
bor of  man's  hands,  and  the  corn  and 
the  wood  which  had  crowned  the  fields 
as  a  diadem ;  oh,  the  confidence  which 
had  been  given  me  by  an  exhibition 
which  appeared  eloquent  of  the  benevo- 
lence of  Godhead,  would  yield  to  horror 
and  trepidation,  whilst  the  Eternal  One 
seemed  walking  before  me,  the  tempest 
his  voice,  and  the  lightning  his  glance, 
and  a  fierce  devastation  in  his  every 
foot-print. 

But  even  allowing  the  idea  gained, 
that  "  God  is  love,"  there  is  no  property 
16 


122 


TRUTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  JESUS. 


of  the   Creator  concerning  which  it  is  , 
easier  to  fall  into  mistake.     We  have  no  ; 
standard  by  which  to  estimate  divine  af- 
fections, unless  one  which  we  fashion  i 
out  of  the  results  of  the  workings  of  hu- 
man.    And  we  know  well  enough,  that,  j 
amongst  ourselves,  an  intense  and  over-  \ 
weening   attachment   is    almost  sure  to 
blind  man  to  the  faults  of  its   object,  or 
to  cause,   at  the  least,  that    when  the 
faults  are  discerned,  due  blame  is  with- 
held.    So  that,  whilst  we  have  not  be- 
fore us   a  distinct  exhibition  of  God's 
love,  we  may  fall  naturally  into  the  error 
of  ascribing  an  effeminate  tenderness  to 
the  Almighty,   and    reckon,  exactly    in 
proportion  as  we  judge  the  love  amazing, 
that  it  will  never  permit  our  being  given 
over  to  torment.     Hence,  admitting  it 
to  be  truth,  yea,  most  glorious  and  bless- 
ed truth,   that  the  creature  is  loved  by 
the  Creator,  this  truth  must  be  viewed 
through    a    rectifying    medium,    which 
shall  correct  the  distortions  which  a  de- 
praved nature  produces. 

Now  we  maintain  again  that  this  rec- 
tifying medium  must  be  the  person  and 
work  of  the  Savior.  In  other  words, 
we  must  make  the  truth  of  God's  love, 
truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  and  then,  at 
one  and  the  same  time,  we  shall  know 
how  ample  is  the  love,  and  be  guarded 
against  abusing  it.  When  we  observe 
that  God  loved  us  so  well  as  to  give  his 
Son  to  death  for  us,  we  perceive  that 
the  immenseness  of  this  love  leaves  im- 
agination far  behind  in  her  least  fettered 
soarings.  But  when  we  also  observe  that 
love  so  unheard  of,  could  not  advance 
sti'aight  to  the  rescue  of  its  objects,  but 
must  wait,  ere  it  could  breathe  words  of 
forgiveness  to  the  fallen,  the  outwork- 
ings  of  a  task  of  ignominy  and  blood ; 
there  must  vanish  at  once,  the  idle  ex- 
pectancy of  a  tenderness  not  proof 
against  the  cry  of  despair,  and  we  must 
learn  (unless  we  wilfully  close  the  mind 
against  conviction)  that  the  love  of  a 
holy,  and  righteous,  and  immutable  Be- 
ing is  that  amazing  principle,  which  can 
stir  the  universe  in  our  behalf  during 
the  season  of  grace,  and  yet,  as  soon  as 
that  season  have  terminated,  resign  us 
unhesitatingly  to  the  ininistry  of  ven- 
geance. Thus,  take  the  truth  of  God's 
love  out  of  Jesus,  and  you  will  dress  up 
a  weak  and  womanish  sympathy,  which 
cannot  permit  the  punishment  of  the 
disobedient.     But,  on  the  other  hand, 


take  this  truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  and 
you  have  the  love  immeasurable  in  its 
stature,  but  uncompromising  in  its  pe- 
nalties ;  eager  to  deliver  the  meanest 
who  repents,  yet  nerved  to  abandon  the 
thousands  who  die  hardened ;  threaten 
ing,  therefore,  the  obdurate  in  the  very 
degree  that  it  encourages  the  peni- 
tent :  and  when  you  thus  contrast  truth 
"  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  with  truth  as  it  is 
out  of  Jesus,  you  will  more  and  more 
recognize  the  power  and  the  worth  of 
the  expression,  that  the  Ephesians  had 
been  taught  "  as  the  truth  is  in  Jesus." 

We  might  employ  this  kind  of  illus- 
tration in  regard  to  other  attributes  of 
God.  We  might  show  you  that  cor- 
rect and  practical  views  of  the  truths 
of  God's  faithfulness,  God's  holiness, 
God's  wisdom,  are  only  to  be  derived 
from  the  work  of  redemption  ;  and  this 
would  be  showing  you  that  truth  must 
be  truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  if  we 
would  acquaint  ourselves  with  the  cha- 
racter of  God.  But  we  waive  the  fur- 
ther prosecution  of  our  first  head  of 
discoui-se,  and  ask  attention  to  a  few 
remarks  which  have  to  do  with  the  se- 
cond. 

We  divided  truth  into  two  great  de- 
partments ;  truth  which  relates  to  the 
character  of  God,  truth  which  relates 
to  the  condition  of  man.  We  proceed, 
therefore,  to  affirm,  in  reference  to  the 
condition  of  man,  that  truth,  if  rightly 
understood,  or  thoroughly  influential, 
must  be  truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus."  We 
find  it  admitted,  for  example,  in  most 
quarters,  that  man  is  a  fallen  being, 
with  faculties  weakened,  if  not  wholly 
incapacitated  for  moral  achievement. 
Yet  this  general  admission  is  one  of  the 
most  heartless,  and  unmeaning  things 
in  the  world.  It  consists  with  the  har- 
boring pride  and  conceit.  It  tolerates 
many  forms  and  actings  of  self-righte- 
ousness. And  the  matter-of-fact  is,  that 
man's  moral  disability  is  not  to  be  de- 
scribed, and  not  understood  theoretical- 
ly. We  want  some  bold,  definite,  and 
tangible  measurements.  But  we  shall 
find  these  only  in  the  wo'k  of  Christ 
Jesus.  I  learn  the  depth  to  which  I 
have  sunk,  from  the  length  of  the 
chain  let  down  to  updraAV  me.  I  as- 
certain the  mightiness  of  the  ruin  by 
examining  the  machinery  of  restoration. 
I  gather  that  I  must  be,  in  the  broadest 
sense,  unable  to  affect  delivei'ance  for 


TRUTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  JESUS. 


123 


myself,  from  observing  that  none  less 
than  the  Son  of  the  Highest  had  strengtli 
enough  to  fight  the  battles  of  our  race. 
Thus  the  truth  of  human  apostacy,  of 
human  corruption,  of  human  helpless- 
ness— how  shall  this  be  understood  truth 
and  effective  1  We  answer,  simply 
throufjh  being  truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus." 
In  the  history  of  the  Incarnation  and 
Crucifixion  wo  read,  in  characters  not 
to  be  misinterpreted,  the  announcements, 
that  man  has  destroyed  himself,  and  that, 
whatever  his  original  powers,  he  is  now 
void  of  ability  to  turn  unto  God,  and  do 
things  well-pleasing  in  his  sight.  You 
do  not,  indeed,  alter  these  truths,  if 
you  destroy  all  knowledge  of  the  In- 
carnation and  Crucifixion.  But  you  re- 
move their  massive  and  resistless  exhi- 
bition, and  leave  us  to  our  own  vague 
and  partial  computations.  We  have  no- 
thing practical  to  which  to  appeal,  no- 
thing fixed  by  which  always  to  estimate. 
Thus,  in  spite  of  a  seeming  recognition 
of  truth,  we  shall  be  turned  adrift  on  a 
wide  sea  of  ignorance  and  self-sufficien- 
cy ;  and  all  because  truth  may  be  to  us 
truth  as  it  is  in  moral  philosophy,  truth 
as  it  is  in  well-arranged  ethics,  truth  as 
it  is  in  lucid  and  incontrovertible  state- 
ments ;  and  yet  prove  nothing  but  de- 
spised, and  ill-understood,  and  power- 
less truth,  as  not  being  to  us  truth  "  as 
it  is  in  Jesus." 

We  add  that  the  law  of  God,  which 
has  been  given  for  the  regulation  of  our 
conduct,  is  a  wonderful  compendium  of 
truth.  There  is  not  a  single  working 
of  wickedness,  though  it  be  the  lightest 
and  most  secret,  which  escapes  the  de- 
nouncements of  this  law ;  so  that  the 
statute-book  proves  itself  truth  by  de- 
lineating, with  an  unvarying  accuracy, 
the  whole  service  of  the  father  of  lies. 
But  who  knows  any  thing  of  this  truth, 
unless  acquainted  with  the  law  as  ex- 
pounded and  fulfilled  by  Christ  ]  Christ 
in  his  discourses  expanded  every  pre- 
cept, and  in  his  obedience  exhibited 
every  demand.  Ho,  therefi)re,  who 
would  know  the  truth  which  there  is  in 
the  law,  must  know  this  truth  "  as  it  is 
in  Jesus."  He  moreover,  who  would 
not  be  appalled  by  this  truth,  must  view 
it  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus."  Knowledge  of  the 
law  would  crush  a  man,  if  unaccompa- 
nied by  the  consciousness  that  Christ 
obeyed  the  law  in  his  stead.  So  that 
truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  this  is  knowl- 


edge, and  this  is  comfort.  And  finally 
— for  we  must  hurry  over  ground  where 
there  is  much  which  might  tempt  us  to 
linger — look  at  the  context  of  the  words 
under  review,  and  you  will  find  that 
truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  differs  from 
that  truth  as  it  is  out  of  Jesus,  in  being 
a  sanctifying  thing.  The  Ephesians 
were  "  taught  as  the  truth  is  in  Jesus," 
to  "  put  off,  concerning  the  former  con- 
versation, the  old  man,  which  is  corrupt 
according  to  the  deceitful  lusts."  Hence 
— and  this,  after  all,  is  the  grand  distinc- 
tion— truth,  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  is  a 
thing  of  the  heart ;  whereas  truth,  as  it 
is  out  of  Jesus,  is  a  thing  of  the  head. 
Dear  Brethren,  ye  cannot  be  too  often 
told  that  without  holiness  "  no  man  shall 
see  the  Lord."  Hebrews,  12  :  14.  If 
no  vigorous  process  of  sanctification  be 
going  on  within,  we  are  destitute  of  the 
organs  by  which  to  read  truth  in  the 
holy  child  Jesus.  Or,  rather,  we  are 
ignorant  of  the  characters  in  which 
truth  is  graven  on  the  Savior  ;  and  there- 
fore, though  we  may  read  it  in  books 
and  manuscripts,  on  the  glorious  scroll 
of  the  heavens,  and  in  the  beautiful 
tracery  of  forest  and  mountain,  we  can 
never  peruse  it  as  written  in  the  person 
and  work  of  God's  only  and  well-be- 
loved Son.  The  mortification  of  the 
flesh — the  keeping  under  the  body — the 
plucking  out  the  off*ending  right  eye — 
the  cutting  off  the  offending  right  hand 
— these,  so  to  speak,  are  the  processes 
of  tuition  by  which  men  are  taught  "  as 
the  ti'uth  is  in  Jesus."  Sanctification 
conducts  to  knowledge,  and  then  knowl- 
edge speeds  the  work  of  sanctification. 
We  beseech  you,  therefore,  that  ye 
strive,  through  God's  grace,  to  give 
yourselves  to  the  business  of  putting  off 
the  old  man.  Will  ye  affirm  that  ye 
believe  there  is  a  heaven,  and  yet  act 
as  though  persuaded  that  it  is  not  worth 
striving  for  1  Believe,  only  believe,  that 
a  day  of  coronation  is  yet  to  break  on 
this  long-darkened  globe,  and  the  sinews 
will  bo  strung,  like  those  of  the  wrestlers 
of  old,  who  saw  the  garlands  in  the 
judges'  hands,  and  locked  themselves  in 
an  iron  embrace.  Strive — for  the  grasp 
of  a  destroyer  is  upon  you,  and  if  ye  be 
not  wrenched  away,  it  will  palsy  you, 
and  crush  you.  Strive — for  the  foe  is 
on  the  right  hand,  on  the  left  hand,  be- 
fore you,  behind  you  ;  and  ye  must  be 
trampled  under  foot,  if  ye  struggle  not, 


124 


THE  DIFFICULTIES  OP  SCRIPTURE. 


and  strike  not,  as  those  who  feel  them- 
selves bound  in  a  death-grapple.  Strive 
— there  is  a  crown  to  be  won — the 
mines  of  the  earth  have  not  furnished 
its  metal,  and  the  depths  of  the  sea  hide 
nothing  so  radiant  as  the  jewels  with 
which  it  is  wreathed.  Strive — for  if  ye 
gain  not  this  crown — alas  !  alas  !  ye 
must  have  the  scorpions  for  ever  round 
the  forehead,  and  the  circles  of  that 
flame  wliich  is  fanned  by  the  breath  of 
the  Almighty's  displeasure. 

Strive  then,  but  strive  in  the  strength 
of  your  risen  Lord,  and  not  in  your  own. 
Ye  know  not  how  soon  that  Lord  may 
come.  Whilst  the  sun  walks  his  usual 
path  on  the  firmament,  and  the  grass  is 
springing  in  our  fields,   and  merchants 


are  crowding  the  exchange,  and  politi- 
cians jostHng  for  place,  and  the  volup- 
tuous killing  time,  and  the  avaricious 
counting  gold,  "  the  sign  of  the  Son  of 
Man,"  Matthew,  24 :  30,  shall  be  seen 
in  the  heavens,  and  the  august  throne  of 
fire  and  of  cloud  be  piled  for  judgment. 
Be  ye  then  persuaded.  If  not  persuad- 
ed, be  ye  alarmed.  There  is  truth  in 
Jesus  which  is  terrible,  as  well  as  truth 
which  is  soothing :  terrible,  for  he  shall 
be  Judge  as  well  as  Savior ;  and  ye 
cannot  face  Him,  ye  cannot  stand  before 
Him,  unless  ye  now  give  ear  to  His  in- 
vitation, "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  la- 
bor and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest."     Matthew,  11 :  28. 


SERMON    XII. 


THE  DIFFICULTIES  OF  SCRIPTURE. 


"  In  wliich  aie  some  things  hard  to  be  understood,  which  they  that  are  unlearned  and  unstable  wrest,  as  they  da  also 
the  other  Scriptures,  unto  their  own  destruction." — 2  Peter,  iii.  16. 


The  writings  of  St.  Paul,  occupying, 
as  they  do,  a  large  portion  of  the  New 
Testament,  treat  much  of  the  sublimer 
and  more  difficult  articles  of  Christiani- 
ty. It  is  undeniable  that  there  is  a  great 
deal  made  known  to  us  by  the  Epistles, 
which  could  only  imperfectly,  if  it  all, 
be  derived  from  the  Gospels.  We  have 
the  testimony  of  Christ  himself  that  he 
had  many  things  to  say  to  his  disciples, 
which,  whilst  he  yet  ministered  on  earth, 
they  were  not  prepared  to  receive. 
Hence  it  was  altogtjther  to  be  expected 
that  the  New  Testament  would  be,  what 
we  find  it,  a  progressive  book  ;  the  com- 
munications of  intelligence  growing  with 
the  fuller  opening  out  of  the  dispensa- 
tion. The  deep  things  of  the  sovereign- 
ty of  God;  the  mode  of  the  justification 


of  sinners,  and  its  perfect  consistence 
with  all  the  attributes  of  the  Creator; 
the  mysteries  bound  up  in  the  rejection 
of  the  Jew,  and  the  calling  of  the 
Gentile  ;  these  enter  largely  into  the 
Epistles  of  St.  Paul,  though  only  faint- 
ly intimated  by  writers  who  precede 
him  in  the  canon  of  Scripture.  And  it 
is  a  natural  and  unavoidable  consequence 
on  the  greater  abstruseness  of  the  topics 
which  are  handled,  that  the  apostle's  wri- 
tings should  present  greater  difficulties 
to  the  BibHcal  student.  With  the  ex- 
ception of  the  Book  of  Revelation,  which, 
as  dealing  with  the  future,  is  necessarily 
hard  to  be  interpreted,  the  Epistle  to 
the  Romans  is  probably  that  part  of  the 
Ne^v  Testament  which  most  demands 
the   labors  of  the  commentator.     And 


THE  DIFFICULTIES  OF   SCUIPTURE. 


125 


though  vvc  select  this  epistle  as  pre- 
eminent in  difliculties,  we  may  say 
generally  of  the  writings  of  St.  Paul, 
that,  whilst  they  present  simple  and 
beautiful  truths  which  all  may  under- 
stand, they  contain  statements  of  doc- 
trine, which,  even  after  long  study  and 
prayer,  will  be  but  })artially  unfolded  by 
the  most  gifted  inquirers.  With  this 
admission  of  difliculty  we  must  join  the 
likeliliood  of  misconception  and  misap- 
])licution.  Wlicre  there  is  confessedly 
obscurity,  we  may  naturally  expect  that 
wrong  theories  will  be  formed,  and  er- 
roneous inferences  deduced.  If  it  be 
hard  to  determine  the  true  ineaning  of 
a  passage,  it  can  scarcely  fail  that  some 
false  interpretation  will  be  advanced,  or 
espoused,  by  the  partizans  of  theologi- 
cal systems.  If  a  man  have  error  to 
maintain,  he  will  turn  for  support  to 
jiassages  of  Scripture,  of  which,  the 
real  sense  being  doubtful,  a  plausible 
may  be  advanced  on  the  side  of  his 
falsehood.  If,  again,  an  individual  wish 
to  persuade  himself  to  believe  tenets 
which  encourage  him  in  presumption 
and  unholiness,  he  may  easily  fasten  on 
separate  verses,  which,  taken  by  them- 
selves, and  without  concern  for  the 
analogy  of  faith,  seem  to  mark  out  privi- 
leges superseding  the  necessity  of  striv- 
ing against  sin.  So  that  we  can  find  no 
cause  of  surprise  in  the  fact,  that  St. 
Peter  should  speak  of  the  Epistles  of 
St.  Paul  as  wrested  by  the  "  unlearned 
and  unstable  "  to  their  own  destruction. 
He  admits  that  in  these  Epistles  "  are 
some  things  hard  to  be  understood." 
And  we  consider  it,  as  we  have  just  ex- 
])lained,  a  necessary  consequence  on  the 
difficulties,  that  there  should  be  perver- 
sions, whether  wilful  or  unintentional, 
of  the  writings. 

But  you  will  observe,  that,  whilst  St. 
Peter  confesses  both  the  difficulty  and 
the  attendant  danger,  he  gives  not  the 
slightest  intimation  that  the  Epistles  of 
St.  Paul  were  unsuited  to  general  pe- 
rusal. The  Roman  Catholic,  when  sup- 
porting that  tenet  of  his  Church  which 
shuts  up  the  Bible  from  the  laity,  will 
appeal  confidently  to  this  statement  of 
St.  Peter,  arguing  that  the  allowed  diffi- 
culty, and  the  declared  danger,  give  the 
Apostle's  authority  to  the  measure  of 
exclusion.  But  certainly  it  were  not 
easy  to  find  a  more  strained  and  far- 
fetched defence.     Had  St.  Peter  intend- 


ed to  infer,  that,  because  obscurity  an»3 
abuse  existed,  there  ought  to  be  prohi- 
bition, it  is  altogether  unaccountable 
that  he  did  not  lay  down  the  inference. 
A  fairer  opportunity  could  never  be  pre- 
sented for  the  announcement  of  such  a 
rule  as  the  Roman  Catholic  advocates. 
And  the  mere  finding,  that,  when  an  in- 
spired writer  speaks  of  the  dangers  of 
perusal,  he  gives  not  even  a  hint  which 
can  be  tortured  into  sanction  of  its  pro- 
hibition, is,  itself,  so  overj^owering  a 
witness  to  the  right  of  all  men  to  read 
the  Bible  for  themselves,  that  we  wonder 
at  the  infatuation  of  those  who  can  ap- 
peal to  the  passage  as  supporting  a 
counter-opinion.  You  will  observe  tliat 
whilst  St.  Peter  speaks  only  of  the 
writings  of  St.  Paul  as  presenting 
"  things  hard  to  be  understood,"  he  ex- 
tends to  the  whole  Bible  the  wresting  of 
the  unlearned  and  unstable.  So  that, 
when  there  is  wanting  that  chastened, 
and  teachable,  and  prayerful  disposition, 
which  should  always  be  brought  to  the 
study  of  Scripture,  the  plainest  passa- 
ges and  the  most  obscure  may  be  equally 
abused.  After  all,  it  is  not  so  much  the 
difficulty  which  makes  the  danger,  as  the 
temper  in  which  the  Bible  is  perused. 
And  if  St.  Peter's  statement  prove  any 
thing,  it  proves  that  selections  from  Ho- 
ly Writ,  such  as  the  papist  will  allow, 
ai-e  to  the  full  as  fraught  with  peril,  as 
the  unmutilated  volume  ;  and  that,  there- 
fore, unless  a  man  is  to  read  all,  he  ought 
not  to  read  a  line.  We  cannot  but  ad- 
mire the  manner  in  which  the  apostle  has 
expressed  himself.  If  he  had  specified 
difficulties  ;  if  he  had  stated  that  it  was 
upon  such  or  such  points  that  St.  Paul's 
Epistles,  or  the  Scriptures  in  general, 
were  obscure  ;  those  who  are  disjiosed  to 
give  part,  and  to  keep  back  part,  migjit 
have  had  a  ground  for  their  decision, 
and  a  rule  for  their  selection.  But  since 
we  have  nothing  but  a  round  assertion 
that  all  the  Scriptures  may  be,  and  are, 
wrested  by  the  unlearned  and  unstable, 
there  is  left  us  no  right  of  determining 
what  is  fit  for  perusal  and  what  is  not 
fit  :  so  that,  in  allowing  a  solitary  verse 
to  be  read,  we  run  the  same  risk  as  in 
allowing  every  chapter  from  the  first  to 
the  last.  Thus  we  hold  it  clear  to  every 
candid  inquirer,  that  our  text  simply 
proves  the  necessity  of  a  right  temper 
to  the  profitable  persual  of  the  Bible. 
It  ffives  no  such  exclusive  characteristic 


126 


THE  DIFFICULTIES  OF  SCRIPTURE. 


to  the  WTitings  of  St.  Paul,  as  would 
warrant  our  pronouncing  them  peculiar- 
ly unsuited  to  the  weak  and  illiterate. 
If  it  sanction  the  withdrawment  of  any 
part  of  the  Bihle,  it  imperatively  de- 
mands the  withdrawment  of  the  whole. 
And  forasmuch  as  it  thus  gives  not  the 
shadow  of  authority  to  the  selection  of 
one  part  and  the  omission  of  another ; 
and  forasmuch,  moreover,  as  it  contains 
not  the  remotest  hint  that  danger  is  a 
reason  for  shutting  up  the  Scriptures ; 
we  rather  learn  from  the  passage,  that 
free  as  the  air  should  be  the  Bible  to 
the  whole  human  population,  than  that 
a  priesthood,  sitting  in  assize  on  its 
contents,  may  dole  out  fragments  of  the 
word,  or  keep  it,  if  they  please,  undi- 
videdly  to  themselves. 

We  are  not,  however,  required,  in  ad- 
dressing a  protestant  assembly,  to  ex- 
pose, at  any  length,  the  falsehood  of 
that  doctrine  of  popery  to  which  we 
have  referred.  We  introduce  its  men- 
tion, simply  because  its  advocates  en- 
deavor to  uphold  it  by  our  text.  They 
just  give  a  new  witness  to  the  truth  of 
the  text.  They  show,  that,  like  the  rest 
of  the  Scriptures,  this  verse  may  be  per- 
verted. The  very  passage  which  de- 
clares that  all  Sci'ipture  may  be  wrested, 
has  itself  been  wrested  to  the  worst  and 
most  pernicious  of  purposes.  So  that, 
as  if  in  verification  of  the  statement  of 
St.  Peter,  when  that  statement  became 
part  of  the  Bible,  it  was  seized  upon  by 
the  "  unlearned  and  unstable,"  and 
wrenched  from  its  oinginal  bearings. 

But  we  desire,  on  the  present  occa- 
sion, to  bring  before  you  what  we  count 
important  considerations,  suggested  by 
the  announcement  that  there  are  diffi- 
culties' in  Scripture.  We  have  the  de- 
cision of  an  inspired  writer,  that  in  the 
volume  of  inspiration  there  **  are  some 
things  hard  to  be  understood."  We  lay 
great  stress  on  the  fact,  that  it  is  an  in- 
spired writer  who  gives  this  decision. 
The  Bible  attests  the  difficulties  of  the 
Bible.  If  we  knew  the  l^ible  to  be  dif- 
ficult, only  as  finding  it  difficult,  we 
might  be  inclined  to  suppose  it  luminous 
to  others,  though  obscure  to  ourselves. 
We  should  not  so  thoroughly  understand 
that  tlie  diflicultics,  which  one  man  meets 
with  in  the  study  of  Scripture,  are  not 
simply  produced  by  his  intellectual  in- 
feriority to  another — no,  nor  by  his  mo- 
ral or  spiritual  inferiority — but  are,  in  a 


great  degree,  inherent  in  the  subject  ex 
amined,  so  that  no  equipment  of  learn- 
ing and  prayer  \\-ill  altogether  secure 
their  removal.  The  assertion  of  oui 
text  may  be  called  an  unqualified  asser- 
tion. The  proof,  that  there  are  "  things 
hard  to  be  understood,"  does  not  lie  in 
the  fact,  that  these  things  are  wrested 
by  "  the  unlearned  and  unstable  :  "  for 
then,  by  parity  of  reason,  we  should 
make  St.  Peter  declare  that  all  Scrip- 
tui'e  is  "  hard  to  be  understood."  The 
assertion  is  independent  on  what  fol- 
lows, and  shows  the  existence  of  diffi- 
culties, whether  or  no  they  gave  occa- 
sion to  perversions  of  the  Bible.  And 
though  it  is  of  the  writings  of  St.  Paul, 
and  of  these  alone,  that  the  assertion  is 
made,  we  may  infer  naturally,  from  the 
remainder  of  the  passsage,  that  the  apos- 
tle intended  to  imply  that  difficulties  are 
scattered  through  the  whole  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, so  that  it  is  a  general  characteris- 
tic of  the  Bible,  that  there  are  in  it 
"some  things  hard  to  be  understood." 

Now  it  is  upon  this  characteristic — a 
characteristic,  you  observe,  not  imagined 
by  ourselves,  because  often  unable  to 
bring  out  all  the  force  of  a  passage,  but 
fastened  on  the  Scriptures  by  the  Scrip- 
tures themselves — that  we  desire  to  turn 
your  attention.  We  have  before  us  a 
feature  of  revelation,  drawn  by  revela- 
tion itself,  and  not  sketched  by  human 
surmise  or  discovery.  And  it  seems  to 
us  that  this  feature  deserves  our  very 
closest  examination,  and  that  from  such 
examination  we  may  look  to  derive  les- 
sons of  more  than  ordinary  worth.  We 
take  into  our  hands  the  Bible,  and  re- 
ceive it  as  a  communication  of  God's 
will,  made,  in  past  ages,  to  his  creatures. 
And  we  know  that,  occupying,  as  all 
men  do,  the  same  level  of  helplessness 
and  destitution,  so  that  the  adventitious 
circumstances  of  rank  and  education 
bring  with  them  no  differences  in  moral 
position,  it  cannot  be  the  design  of  the 
Almighty,  that  superior  talent,  or  supe- 
rior Ic.arning,  should  be  essential  to  the 
obtaining  due  acquaintance  with  revela- 
tion. There  can  be  no  fairer  expecta- 
tion than  that  the  Bible  will  be  inrelll- 
gible  to  every  capacity,  and  that  it  will 
not,  either  in  matter  or  manner,  adapt 
itself  to  one  class  in  preference  to  an- 
other. AjuI  when,  with  all  this  antece- 
dent idea  that  revelation  will  condescend 
to  the  very  meanest  understanding,  wo 


THE  DIFFICULTIES  OF  SCRIPTURE. 


127 


find,  as  it  were  on  the  covers  of  the 
book,  the  description  that  there  are  in  it 
"  things  hard  to  be  understood,"  we  may, 
at  first,  feel  something  of  surprise  that 
difficulty  should  occur  where  we  had 
looked  for  simplicity.  And  undoubt- 
edly, however  fair  the  expectation  just 
mentioned,  the  Bible  is,  in  some  senses, 
a  harder  book  for  the  uneducated  man 
than  for  the  educated.  So  far  as  human 
instrumentality  is  concerned,  the  great 
mass  of  a  population  must  be  indebted 
to  a  few  learned  men  for  any  acquaint- 
ance whatsoever  with  the  Scriptures. 
Never  let  learning  be  made  of  small  ac- 
count in  reference  to  religion,  when, 
without  learning,  a  kingdom  must  re- 
main virtually  without  a  i-evelation.  If 
there  were  no  learning  in  a  land,  or  if 
that  learning  were  not  brought  to  bear 
on  translations  of  Scripture,  how  could 
one  out  of  a  thousand  know  any  thing 
of  the  Bible  ]  Those  who  would  dis- 
pense with  literature  in  a  priesthood, 
undermine  a  nation's  great  rampart 
against  heathenism.  And  just  as  the 
unlearned  are  thus,  at  the  very  outset, 
dependent  altogether  on  the  learned,  it 
is  not  to  be  denied  that  the  learned  man 
wir  p^osess  always  a  superiority  over 
iha  unlearned,  and  that  he  has  an  appa- 
ratus at  his  disposal,  which  the  other 
has  not,  for  overcoming  much  that  is 
difficult  in  Scripture. 

But  after  all,  when  St.  Peter  speaks 
of  "  things  hard  to  be  understood,"  he 
cannot  be  considered  as  referring  to  ob- 
scurities which  human  learning  will  dis- 
sipate. He  certainly  mentions  the  "  un- 
learned "  as  wresting  these  difficulties, 
implying  that  the  want  of  one  kind  of 
learning  produced  the  perversion.  But, 
of  course,  he  intends  by  "  unlearned  " 
those  who  were  not  fully  taught  of  the 
Spirit,  and  not  those  who  were  deficient 
in  the  acquirements  of  the  academy. 
There  wei'e  but  few  of  the  learned  of 
the  earth  amongst  the  apostles  and  their 
followers ;  and  it  were  absurd  to  ima- 
gine that  all  but  those  wrested  the  Scrip- 
tures to  their  destruction.  And,  there- 
fore, whilst  ^ve  frankly  allow  that  there 
ai'e  difficilties  in  Holy  Writ,  for  the 
coping  with  which  human  learning  equips 
an  individual — historical  difficulties,  for 
example,  grammatical,  chronological — 
we  see,  at  once,  that  it  cannot  be  to 
these  St.  Peter  refers  ;  since,  when  he 
wrote,  either  those  difficulties  had  not 


come  into  existence,  or  he  himself  was 
classed  with  the  "  unlearned,"  if  by 
"  unlearned  "  were  intended  the  men  un- 
enlightened by  science. 

We  thus  assure  ourselves,  that,  in  al- 
lowing "  things  hard  to  be  understood  " 
to  find  place  in  the  volume  of  inspira- 
tion, God  has  dealt  with  mankind  irres- 
pectively of  the  differences  of  rank.  It 
cannot  be  human  learning  which  makes 
these  things  comparatively  easy  to  be 
understood.  They  must  remain  hard, 
ay,  and  equally  hard,  whatever  the  lite- 
rary advantages  of  a  student ;  otherwise 
the  whole  statement  of  our  text  becomes 
unintelligible.  The  "  unlearned,"  ir 
short,  are  also  "  the  unstable :  "  it  is 
not  the  want  of  earthly  scholarship  which 
makes  the  difficulties,  it  is  the  want  of 
moral  steadfastness  which  occasions  the 
wresting.  We  have  nothing,  therefore, 
to  do,  in  commenting  on  the  words 
of  St.  Peter,  with  difficulties  Avhich 
may  be  caused  by  a  defective,  and  re- 
moved by  a  liberal  education.  The  dif- 
ficulties must  be  difficulties  of  subject. 
The  things  which  are  handled,  and 
which  are  "  hard  to  be  understood," 
nuist,  in  themselves,  be  deep  and  mys- 
terious, and  not  such  as  present  intrica- 
cies which  human  criticism  may  prevail 
to  unravel.  And  that  there  are  many  of 
these  things  in  the  Bible  will  be  ques- 
tioned by  none  who  have  given  them- 
selves to  its  study.  It  were  a  waste  of 
time  to  adduce  instances  of  the  difficul- 
ties. To  be  unacquainted  with  them  is 
to  be  unacquainted  with  Scripture ; 
whilst  to  be  surprised  at  their  existence 
is  to  be  sui-prised  at  what  we  may  call 
unavoidable.  It  is  this  latter  point 
which  chiefly  requires  illustration, 
though  there  ai'e  others  which  must  not 
be  passed  over  in  silence.  We  assume, 
therefore,  as  matter-of-fact,  that  there 
are  in  Scripture  "  things  hard  to  be  un- 
derstood." We  shall  endeavor  to  show 
you,  in  the  first  place,  that  this  fact  was 
to  be  expected.  We  shall  then,  in  the 
second  place,  point  out  the  advantages 
which  follow  from  the  fact,  and  the  dis- 
positions which  it  should  encourage. 

And,  first,  we  would  show  you — 
though  this  point  requires  but  brief  ex- 
amination— that  it  was  to  be  cx])ected 
that  the  Bible  would  contain  "  some 
things  hard  to  be  understood."  We 
should  like  to  be  told  what  stamp  of  in- 
spiration there  would  be  upon  a  Bible 


128 


THE  DIFFICULTIES  OF  SCRIPTURE. 


containing  nothing  "hard  to  be  under- 
stood." Is  it  not  almost  a  self-evident 
Sroposition,  that  a  revelation  without 
ifficulty  could  not  be  a  revelation  of 
divinity  1  If  there  lie  any  thing  of  that 
unmeasured  separation,  which  we  are 
all  conscious  there  must  lie,  between 
ourselves  and  the  Creator,  is  it  not  clear 
that  God  cannot  be  comprehensible  by 
man  ;  and  that,  therefore,  any  professed 
revelation,  which  left  him  not  incom- 
prehensible, would  be  thereby  its  own 
witness  to  the  falsehood  of  its  preten- 
sions ?  You  ask  a  Bible  which  shall, 
in  every  part,  be  simple  and  intelligible. 
But  could  such  a  Bible  discourse  to  us 
of  God,  that  Being  who  must  remain, 
necessarily  and  for  ever,  a  mystery  to 
the  very  highest  of  created  intelligences  1 
Could  such  a  Bible  treat  of  purposes, 
which,  extending  themselves  over  un- 
limited ages,  and  embracing  the  uni- 
verse Avithin  their  ranges,  demand  eter- 
nity for  their  development,  and  inilnity 
for  their  theatre  ?  Could  such  a  Bible 
put  forward  any  account  of  spiritual 
operations,  seeing  that,  whilst  confined 
by  the  trammels  of  matter,  the  soul 
cannot  fathom  herself,  but  withdraws 
herself,  as  it  were,  and  shrinks  from  her 
own  scrutiny  ]  Could  such  a  Bible,  in 
short,  tell  us  anything  of  our  condition, 
whether  by  nature  or  grace  ]  Could  it 
treat  of  the  entrance  of  evil  ;  could  it 
treat  of  the  Incarnation  ;  of  Regenera- 
tion ;  of  a  Resurrection  ;  of  an  Immor- 
tality ?  In  reference  to  all  these  mat- 
ters, there  are  in  the  Bible  "  things  hard 
to  be  understood."  But  it  is  not  the 
manner  in  which  they  are  handled 
which  makes  them  "  hard  to  be  under- 
stood." The  subject  itself  gives  the 
diiliculty.  If  you  will  not  have  the 
difficulty,  you  cannot  have  the  subject. 
You  must  have  a  Revelation  which 
shall  say  nothing  on  the  nature  of  God, 
for  that  must  remain  inexplicable  ;  noth- 
ing on  the  soul,  for  that  must  remain  in- 
explicable ;  nothing  on  the  processes 
and  workings  of  grace,  for  these  must 
remain  inexplicable.  You  must  have  a 
Revelation,  which  shall  not  only  tell 
you  that  such  and  such  things  arc,  but 
which  shall  also  explain  to  you  how 
they  are  :  their  mode,  their  constitu- 
tion, their  essence.  And  if  this  were 
the  character  of  Revelation,  it  would 
undoubtedly  be  so  constructed  as  never 
to    overtask    reason   ;     but    it    would, 


jnst  as  clearly,  be  kept  within  this 
boundary  only  by  being  stripped  of  all 
on  which  we  mainly  need  a  Revelation. 
A  Revelation  in  which  there  shall  be 
nothing  "  hard  to  be  understood,"  must 
limit  itself  by  the  powers  of  reason, 
and,  therefore,  exclude  those  very  to- 
pics on  which,  reason  being  insufficient, 
revelation  is  required.  We  wish  you  to 
be  satisfied  on  the  point,  that  Scriptu- 
ral difficulties  are  not  the  result  of  ob- 
scurity of  style,  of  brevity  of  commu- 
nication, or  of  a  designed  abstruseness 
in  the  method  of  argument.  The  diffi- 
culties lie  simply  in  the  mysteriousness 
of  the  subjects.  There  is  no  want  of 
simplicity  of  language  when  G<jd  is  de- 
scribed to  us  as  always  every  where. 
But  who  understands  this  1  Can  lan- 
guage make  this  intelligible  ]  Revela- 
tion assures  us  of  the  fact  ;  reason 
with  all  her  stridings,  cannot  overtake 
that  fact.  But  would  you,  therefore, 
require  that  the  omnipresence  of  Deity 
should  be  shut  out  from  revelation  1 
There  is  a  perfect  precision  and  plain- 
ness of  speech,  when  the  Bible  dis- 
courses on  the  Word  being  made  flesh, 
and  on  the  second  person  in  the  Trinity 
humblino:  himself  to  the  bcins:  "  found 
in  fashion  as  a  man."  Phil.  2  :  8.  But 
who  can  grapple  with  this  prodigy  ?  Is 
the  palpable  impossibility  of  explain- 
ing, or  understanding  it,  at  all  the  re- 
sult of  deficiency  of  statement  1  Who 
docs  not  feel  that  the  impossibility  lies 
in  himself,  and  that  the  matter  is  unin- 
telligible, because  necessarily  overpass- 
ing the  sweep  of  his  intelligence  ?  He 
can  receive  the  bare  fact ;  he  cannot  re- 
ceive the  explanation.  But  shall  we,  on 
this  account,  and  just  in  order  to  have 
a  Bible  free  from  "  things  hard  to  be 
understood,"  require  the  Incarnation  to 
be  expvmged  from  revelation  1 

We  might  argue  in  like  manner  with 
j  regard  to  every  Scriptural  difficulty. 
We  account  for  the  existence  of  these 
I  difficulties  mainly  by  the  fact  that  wo 
are  men,  and,  because  men,  finite  in  our 
capacities.  We  suppose  not  that  it 
would  have  been  possible,  by  any  power 
of  description  or  process  of  explanation, 
to  have  made  those  things  which  are 
now  hard,  easier  to  be  understood,  un- 
less the  human  faculties  had  been  ampli- 
fied and  strengthened,  so  that  men  had 
been  carried  up  to  a  liiglier  rank  of  be- 
ing.    We  can  quite  believe  that  to  an 


THE  DIFFICULTIES  OF  SCRIPTURE. 


129 


angel,  endowed  with  anohler  equipment 
of  intellectual  energy,  and  unincumber- 
ed with  a  frame-work  of  mattei',  there 
would  be  a  far  clearer  idea  conveyed  by 
the  revelation,  that "  there  are  three  that 
bear  record  in  heaven,  and  these  three 
are  one,"  1  John,  5  :  7,  than  is  conveyed 
by  such  announcement  to  ourselves.  But 
it  does  not,  therefore,  follow  that  the 
doctrine  of  the  Trinity  might  have  been 
made  as  comprehensible  by  us  as  by 
angels.  Let  there  be  only  the  same 
amount  of  revelation,  and  the  angel 
may  know  more  than  the  man,  because 
gifted  with  a  keener  and  more  vigorous 
understanding.  And  it  is  evident,  there- 
fore, that  few  things  could  have  less 
warranty  than  the  supposition  that  re- 
velation might  have  been  so  enlarged, 
that  the  knowledge  of  man  would  have 
reached  to  the  measure  of  the  knowl- 
edge of  angels.  We  again  say  that 
♦.here  is  no  deficiency  of  revelation,  and 
that  the  difficulties  which  occur  in  the 
perusal  of  Scripture  result  from  the  ma- 
jesty of  the  introduced  subjects,  and  the 
weakness  of  the  faculties  turned  on  their 
study.  It  is  little  short  of  a  contradic- 
tion in  terms,  to  speak  of  a  revelation 
free  altogether  from  "  things  hard  to  be 
understood."  And  we  are  well  persuad- 
ed, that,  however  disposed  men  may  be 
to  make  the  difficulties  an  objection  to 
the  Bible,  the  absence  of  those  difficul- 
ties would  have  been  eagerly  seized  on 
as  a  proof  of  imposture.  There  would 
have  been  fairness  in  the  objection — 
and  scepticism  would  not  have  been 
slow  in  triumphantly  urging  it — that  a 
book,  which  brought  down  the  infinite 
to  the  level  of  the  finite,  must  contain 
false  representations,  and  deserve,  there- 
fore, to  be  placed  under  the  outlawry  of 
the  world.  We  should  have  had  reason 
taking  up  an  opposite  position,  but  one 
far  more  tenable  than  she  occupies  when 
arguing  from  the  difficulty,  against  the 
divinity,  of  Scripture.  Reason  has  sa- 
gacity enough,  if  you  remove  the  bias 
of  the  "  evil  heart  of  unbelief,"  Heb. 
3  :  12,  to  perceive  the  impossibility  that 
God  should  be  searched  out  and  com- 
prehended by  man.  And  if,  therefore, 
reason  sat  in  judgment  on  a  professed 
revelation  of  the  Almighty,  and  found 
that  it  gave  no  account  of  the  Deity, 
but  one,  in  every  respect  easy  and  in- 
telligible, so  that  God  described  himself 
as   lemoved   not,    either  in    essence  or 


properties  from  the  ken  of  liumimity,  it 
can  scarcely  be  questioned  tliat  she 
would  give  down  as  her  verdict,  and 
that  justice  would  loudly  a])plaud  the 
decision,  that  the  alleged  communication 
from  heaven  wanted  the  signs  tlie  most 
glementary  of  so  illustrious  an  origin. 

It  can  only  be  viewed  as  a  necessary 
consequence  on  the  grandeur  of  the 
subjects  which  form  the  matter  of  re- 
velation, that,  with  every  endeavor  at 
simplicity  of  style  and  aptitude  of  illus- 
tration, the  document  contains  styte- 
ments  which  overmatch  all  but  the 
faith  of  mankind.  And,  therefore,  we 
are  bold  to  say  that  we  glory  in  the 
difficulties  of  Scripture.  We  can  in- 
deed desire,  as  well  as  those  who  would 
turn  these  difficulties  into  occasion  of 
cavil  and  objection,  to  understand,  with 
a  thorough  accuracy,  the  registered 
truths,  and  to  penetrate  and  explore 
those  solemn  mysteries  which  (;rowd 
the  pages  of  inspiration.  We  can  feel, 
whilst  the  volume  of  Holy  Writ  lies 
open  before  us,  and  facts  ai'e  presented 
which  seem  every  way  infinite — height, 
and  breadth,  and  depth,  and  length,  all 
defying  the  boldest  jounieyings  of  the 
spirit — we  can  feel  the  quick  pulse  of 
an  eager  wish  to  scale  the  mountain,  or 
fathom  the  abyss.  But,  at  the  same 
time,  we  know,  and  we  feel,  that  a  Bible 
without  difficulties  were  a  firmament 
without  stars.  We  know,  and  we  feel; 
that  a  far  off  land,  enamelled,  as  we 
believe  it,  with  a  loveliness  which  is 
not  of  this  earth,  and  inhabited  by  a, 
tenantry  gloriously  distinct  from  our 
own  order  of  being,  would  not  be  the 
magnificent  and  richly-peopled  domain 
which  it  is,  if  its  descriptions  overpass- 
ed not  the  outlines  of  human  geography. 
We  know,  and  we  feel,  that  the  Creator 
of  all  things,  he  who  stretched  out  the 
heavens,  and  sprinkled  them  with  worlds, 
could  not  be,  what  wc  are  assured  that 
He  is,  inaccessibly  sublime  and  awfully 
great,  if  there  could  be  given  us  a  por- 
trait of  his  nature  and  properties,  whose 
every  feature  might  be  sketched  by  a 
human  pencil,  whose  every  characteris- 
tic scanned  by  a  human  vision.  We 
know,  and  we  feel,  that  the  vast  busi- 
ness of  our  redemption,  arranged  in  the 
councils  of  the  far-back  eternity,  and 
acted  out  amid  the  wondering  and  throb- 
bings  of  the  universe,  could  not  have 
been  that  stupendous  transaction  which 
17 


130 


THE  DIFFICULTIES  OF  SCRIPTTRE. 


gave  God  glory  by  giving  sinners  safety, 
if  the  inspired  account  brought  its  di- 
mensions within  the  compass  of  a  human 
arithmetic,  or  defined  its  issues  by  tlic 
lines  of  a  human  demarcation.  And, 
therefore,  do  we  also  know  and  feel  that 
it  is  a  witness  to  the  inspiration  of  tha 
Bible,  that,  when  this  Bible  would  fur- 
nish us  with  notices  of  the  unseen  world 
hereafter  to  be  traversed,  or  when  it 
would  turn  thought  on  the  Omnipotent, 
or  when  it  would  open  up  the  scheme 
of  the  restoration  of  the  fallen  ;  then, 
with  much  that  is  beautifully  simple, 
and  ^vhich  the  wayfaring  man  can  read 
and  understand,  there  are  mingled  dark 
intimations,  and  pregnant  hints,  and  un- 
developed statements,  before  which  the 
weak  and  the  masterful  must  alike  do 
the  homage  of  a  reverent  and  uncalcu- 
lating  submission.  We  could  not  rise 
up  from  the  perusal  of  Scripture  with 
a  deep  conviction  that  it  is  the  word 
of  the  living  God,  if  we  had  found 
no  occasions  on  which  reason  was  re- 
quired to  humble  herself  before  giant- 
like truth,  and  implicit  faith  has  been 
the  only  act  which  came  within  our 
range  of  moral  achievement.  We  do 
not  Indeed  say — for  the  saying  would 
carry  absurdity  on  its  forefront — that  we 
believe  a  document  inspired,  because,  in 
part,  incomprehensible.  But  if  a  docu- 
ment profess  to  be  inspired  ;  and  if  it 
treat  of  subjects  which  we  can  prove 
beforehand  to  be  above  and  beyond  the 
stretchings  of  our  Intellect ;  then,  we  do 
Bay  that  the  finding  nothing  in  such  a 
document  to  baffle  the  understanding 
would  be  a  proof  the  most  conclusive, 
that  what  alleges  itself  divine  deserves 
rejecthm  as  a  forgery.  And  whilst, 
therefore,  we  see  going  forward  on  all 
sides  the  accumulation  of  the  evidences 
of  Christianity,  and  history  and  science 
are  b'-lntring  their  stores  and  emptying 
them  at  the  feet  of  our  religion,  and  the 
very  wrath  of  the  ailversary,  being  the 
accomplishment  of  prophecy,  is  proving 
that  we  follow  no  "  cunningly  devised 
fables  ;"  2  Pet.  1  :  IG  ;  we  feel  that  it 
was  so  much  to  be  expected,  yea,  rather 
that  it  was  altogether  so  unavoidable, 
that  a  revelation  would,  in  many  parts, 
be  ')bscurc,  that  we  take  as  a  last  link 
in  the  cliaiu  of  a  lengthened  and  irre- 
fragable demonstration,  that  there  are 
in  tlie  Bible  "  things  hard  to  be  under- 
Btood." 


But  we  trench  on  the  second  division 
of  our  subject,  and  will  proceed,  there- 
fore, to  the  more  distinct  exposition  of 
the  advantages  which  follow,  and  the 
dispositions  which  should  be  encouraged 
by,  the  fact  which  has  passed  under  re- 
view. We  see,  at  once,  from  the  state- 
ment of  St.  Peter,  that  effects,  to  all  ap- 
pearance disastrous,  are  produced  by  the 
difficulties  of  Scripture.  The  "  unlearn- 
ed and  unstable  "  wrest  these  difficulties 
to  "  their  own  destruction  ;"  and,  there- 
fore, though  we  have  proved  these  diffi- 
culties unavoidable,  by  what  process  ot 
reasoning  can  they  be  proved  advanta- 
geous "?  Now,  if  we  have  carried  you 
along  with  us  through  our  foregoing 
argument,  you  are  already  furnished 
with  one  answer  to  this  inquiry.  We 
have  shown  you  that  the  absence  of  dif- 
ficulties would  go  far  towards  proving 
the  Sciiptures  uninspired  ;  and  we  need 
not  remark  that  there  must  be  a  use  for 
difficulties,  if  essential  to  the  complete 
witness  forthe  truth  of  Christianity.  But 
there  are  other  advantages  which  must, 
on  no  account,  be  overlooked.  We  only 
wish  it  premised,  that,  though  the  diffi- 
culties of  Scripture — as,  for  example, 
those  parts  which  involve  predestination 
— are  wrested  by  many  "  to  their  own 
destruction,"  the  "  unlearned  and  unsta- 
ble "  would  have  equally  perished,  had 
no  difficulties  whatsoever  existed.  As 
the  case  indeed  now  stands,  the  "  things 
hard  to  be  understood"  aie  the  stum- 
bling-blocks over  which  they  full,  and, 
falling,  are  destroyed.  But  they  would 
have  stumbled  on  the  plain  ground  as 
well  as  on  the  rouG;h  :  there  beino;  no 
more  certain  truth  in  theojogy,  than 
that  the  cause  of  stumbling  is  the  inter- 
nal feebleness,  and  not  the  external  im- 
pediment. A  man  may  perish,  ostensi- 
bly through  abuse  of  the  doctrine  of 
election.  lie  may  say,  I  am  elect,  and, 
therefore,  shall  be  saved,  though  I  con- 
tinue in  sin.  Thus  he  wrests  election, 
and  that  too  to  his  own  certain  destruc- 
tion. But  would  he  not  have  perished 
had  he  found  no  such  doctrine  to  wrest] 
Ay,  that  he  would  ;  as  fatally,  and  as 
finally.  It  is  the  love  of  sin,  the  deter- 
mination to  live  in  sin,  which  destroys 
him.  And  though,  whilst  giving  the 
reins  to  his  lusts,  he  attempts  to  derive 
from  election  a  quietus  and  excuse,  can 
you  think  that  he  would  be  at  a  loss 
to  find  them  elsewhere,  if  there  wore 


THE  DIFFICULTIES  OP  SCRIPTURE. 


131 


no  doctrine  of  election  from  which, 
when  abused,  they  may  be  wrenched 
and  extorted  1  It  is  possible  that  a  man 
may  slay  himself  with  "  the  sword  of 
the  Spirit;"  Ephesians,  6  :  17  ;  but 
only  because  he  is  so  bent  upon  sui- 
cide, that,  had  he  not  found  so  costly  a 
weapon,  he  would  have  fallen  on  a  ru- 
der and  less  polished.  Satan  has  every 
kind  of  instrument  in  his  armory,  and 
leaves  no  one  at  a  loss  for  a  method  of 
self-destruction.  So  that,  had  it  not 
been  unavoidable  that  "  things  hard  to 
be  understood  "  should  find  place  in  the 
Bible,  their  insertion,  though  apparent- 
ly causing  the  ruin  of  many,  would  in 
no  degree  have  impeached  the  loving- 
kindness  of  the  Almighty.  Scriptural 
difficulties  destroy  none  who  would  not 
have  been  destroyed  had  no  difficulties 
existed.  And,  therefore,  difficulties 
might  be  permitted  for  certain  ends 
which  they,  undoubtedly,  subserve,  and 
yet  not  a  solitary  individual  be  injured 
by  an  allowance  which  is  to  benefit  the 
great  body  of  the  Church.  We  wish 
this  conclusion  borne  carefully  in  mind, 
because  the  first  impression,  on  reading 
our  text,  is,  that  some  are  destroyed  by 
the  "  things  hard  to  be  understood," 
and  that  they  would  not  have  been  de- 
stroyed without  these  things  to  wrest. 
This  first  impression  is  a  wrong  one  ; 
the  hard  things  giving  the  occasion,  but 
never  being  the  cause  of  destruction. 
The  unstable  wrest  what  is  difficulty. 
But,  rather  than  be  without  something 
to  pervert,  if  there  were  not  the  diffi- 
culty, they  would  wrest  the  simple. 

This  being  premised,  we  may  enlarge, 
without  fear,  on  the  advantages  result- 
ing from  the  fact,  that  Scripture  con- 
tains "  some  things  hard  to  be  under- 
stood." And  first,  if  there  wex^e  noth- 
ing in  Scripture  which  overpowered  our 
reason,  who  sees  not  that  intellectual 
pride  would  be  festered  by  its  study  ] 
The  grand  moral  discipline  which  the 
Bible  now  exerts,  and  which  renders 
its  perusal  the  best  exercise  to  which 
men  can  be  subjected,  lies  simply  in 
its  pei'petual  requisition  that  Reason 
submit  herself  to  Revelation.  You  can 
make  no  way  with  the  disclosures  of 
Holy  Writ,  until  prepared  to  receive, 
on  the  authority  of  God,  a  vast  deal 
which,  of  yourself,  you  cannot  prove, 
and  still  more,  which  you  cannot  cx- 
ulain.     And  it  is  a  fine  schooling  for  the 


student,  when,  at  every  step  in  his  re- 
search, he  finds  himself  thrown  on  his 
faith,  required  to  admit  truth  because 
the  Almighty  hath  sjjokon  it,  and  not 
because  he  himself  can  demonstrate.  It 
is  just  the  most  rigorous  and  whole- 
some tuition  under  which  the  human 
mind  can  be  brought,  when  it  is  con- 
tinually called  off  from  its  favorite  pro- 
cesses of  argument  and  commentary, 
and  summoned  into  the  position  of  a 
meek  recipient  of  intelligence  to  be 
taken  without  questioning — honored 
with  belief  when  it  cannot  be  cleared 
by  exposition.  And  of  all  this  school- 
ing and  tuition  you  would  instantly 
deprive  us,  if  you  took  away  from  the 
Bible  "  things  hard  to  be  understood." 
Nay,  it  were  comparatively  little  that 
we  should  lose  the  discipline  :  we 
should  live  under  a  counter  system, 
encouragfino:  what  we  are  bound  to  re- 
press.  If  man  were  at  all  left  to  enter- 
tain the  idea  that  he  can  comprehend 
God,  or  measure  his  purposes — and 
such  idea  might  be  lawful,  were  there 
no  mysteries  in  Scripture — we  know  no 
bounds  which  could  be  set  to  his  Intel 
lectual  haughtiness  :  for  if  reason  seem- 
ed able  to  embrace  Deity,  who  could 
persuade  her  that  she  is  scant  and  con- 
tracted '?  I  might  almost  be  pardoned 
the  fostering  a  consciousness  of  mental 
greatness,  and  the  supposing  myself  en- 
dowed with  a  vast  nobility  of  spirit,  if 
I  found  that  I  kept  pace  with  all  the 
wonders  which  God  brought  out  from 
his  own  nature  and  his  own  dwelling, 
and  if  no  disclosures  were  made  to  this 
creation  too  dazzling  for  my  scrutiny, 
or  too  deep  for  my  penetration.  A  Bible 
without  difficulties  would  be  a  censer 
full  of  incense  to  man's  reason.  It 
would  be  the  greatest  flatterer  of  rea- 
son, passing  on  it  a  compliment  and  eu- 
logy which  would  infinitely  outdo  the 
most  far-fetched  of  human  panegyrics. 
And  if  the  fallen  require  to  be  kept  hum- 
ble ;  if  we  can  advance  in  spiritual  attain- 
ment only  in  proportion  as  we  feel  our  in- 
significance ;  would  not  this  conversion 
of  the  Bible  into  the  very  nurse  and  en- 
coUrager  of  intellectual  pride,  abstract 
its  best  worth  from  revelation  ;  and  who, 
therefore,  will  deny  that  we  aie  advantag- 
ed by  the  fact,  that  there  are  in  Scrip- 
ture "  things  hard  to  be  understood  1  " 
We  remark  again,  that  though  con 
trovcrsy  have  its  evils,  it  has  also  it0 


132 


THE  DIFFICULTIES  OF  SCRIPTURE. 


uses.  We  never  infer,  that,  because 
there  is  no  controversy  in  a  church, 
there  must  be  the  u])h(jl(ling  of  sound 
Joctrine.  It  is  not  the  stagnant  water 
wliicli  is  generally  the  purest.  And  if 
tiiere  are  no  differences  of  opinion 
wiiich  set  men  on  examining  and  ascer- 
taining their  own  belief,  the  prubabiHty 
is,  that,  like  the  Samaritans  of  old,  they 
will  worship  they  "  know  not  what." 
John,  4  :  22.  Heresy  itself  is,  in  one 
sense,  singularly  beneficial.  It  helps  to 
eift  a  professing  community,  and  to  sep- 
arate the  chaft"  from  the  wheat.  And 
whilst  the  unstable  are  carried  about  by 
the  winds  of  false  docti-ine,  those  who 
keep  their  steadfastness  find,  as  it  were, 
their  moral  atmosphere  cleared  by  the 
tempest.  We  consider  this  statement 
to  be  that  of  St.  Paul,  when  he  says  to 
the  Corinthians,  *'  Theie  must  be  also 
heresies  amongst  you,  that  they  which 
are  approved  may  be  made  manifest." 
1  Cor.  11  :  19.  And  it  is  not  the  mere 
separation  of  the  genuine  from  the  fic- 
titious, which  is  eflected  through  the 
publication  of  error.  We  hold  that 
heresies  have  been  of  vast  service  to  the 
Church,  in  that  they  have  caused  truth 
to  be  more  thoroughly  scanned,  and  all 
its  bearings  and  boundaries  explored 
with  a  most  pains-taking  industry.  It  is 
astonishing  how  apt  men  ai-e  to  rest  in 
general  and  ill-defined  notions,  so  that, 
when  interrogated  and  probed  on  an 
article  of  faith,  they  show  themselves 
unable  to  give  account  of  their  belief. 
When  a  new  error  is  pi'opounded,  you 
will  find  that  candid  men  will  confess, 
that,  on  examining  their  own  views  on 
the  litigated  point,  they  have  found 
them  in  many  respects  vague  and  inco- 
herent ;  so  that,  until  driven  to  the 
work  of  expounding  and  defining,  they 
have  never  suspected  their  ignorance 
U])on  matters  with  which  they  profess- 
ed themselves  altogether  familiar.  We 
think  that  few  men  would  have  correct 
notions  of  truth,  unless  occasionally 
compelled  to  investigate  their  own 
opininns.  They  take  for  granted  that 
they  understand  what  they  believe.  But 
when  heresy  or  controversy  arises,  and 
they  are  required  to  slate  what  they 
hold,  they  will  themselves  be  surprised 
at  the  confusion  of  their  sentiments. 
We  arc  persuaded,  for  example,  that 
lif»wever  mischievous  in  many  rcsj)ects 
may   have    been   the    modern    agitation 


of  the  question  of  Christ's  humanity, 
the  grpat  body  of  christians  have  been 
thereby  advantaged.  Until  the  debate 
was  raised,  hundreds  and  thousands 
were  unconsciously  holding  eiTor.  Be- 
ing never  required  to  define  the  true 
doctrine  of  the  Savior's  person,  they 
never  doubted  that  they  knew  and  un- 
derstood it,  though,  all  the  while,  they 
either  confounded  the  natures,  or  mul- 
tiplied the  person  ;  or — and  this  was 
the  ordinary  case — formed  no  idea  at 
all  on  so  mysterious,  yet  fundamental 
a  matter.  Thus  controversy  stirs  the 
waters  and  prevents  their  growing  stag- 
nant. We  do  not  indeed  understand 
from  the  "  must  be"  of  St.  Paul,  that 
the  well-being  of  the  Church  is  depen- 
dent on  heresy,  so  that,  unless  heresy 
enter,  the  Church  cannot  prosper.  But 
we  can  readily  sujspose  that  God,  fore- 
knowing the  corruptions  which  would 
be  attempted  of  the  Gospel,  determin- 
ed to  employ  these  corruptions  as  in- 
struments for  speeding  onward  the 
growth  in  grace  of  his  people.  The 
"  must  be"  refers  to  human  depravity 
and  Satanic  influence.  It  indicates  a 
necessity  for  which  the  creature  alono 
is  answerable,  whilst  the  end,  which 
heresies  subserve,  is  that  which  most 
engages  the  interferences  of  the  Crea- 
tor. Thus  we  speak  of  evil  as  benefi- 
cial, only  as  overruled  by  the  Almighty, 
and  pronounce  controversy  advantage- 
ous, because  a  corrupt  nature  needs 
frequent  agitation.  If  never  called  to 
defend  the  truth,  the  Church  would  com- 
paratively lose  sight  of  what  truth  is. 
And  therefore,  however  the  absence 
of  controversy  may  agree  well  with  a 
milleimial  estate,  we  are  amongst  the 
last  who  would  desire  that  it  should 
not  now  be  heard  in  the  land.  We  feel 
that  if  now  "  the  wolf  should  dwell  with 
the  lamb,  and  the  leopard  lie  down  with 
the  kid,"  Isa.  11  :  G,  we  should  have 
nothing  but  the  millennium  of  liberal- 
ism :  the  lamb  being  nothing  more  than 
the  wolf  in  disguise,  and  the  kid  the 
leopard  with  his  spots  slightly  colored. 
Such  is  the  constitution  of  man — and 
such  it  will  be,  till  there  pass  over  this 
globe  a  mighty  regeneration — that  un- 
less there  be  opposition,  we  shall  have 
no  purity.  Dissent  itself,  with  its  man- 
ifold and  multiform  evils,  has  done  the 
Church  service;  and,  by  rousingenergie? 
which    mi<iht  otherwise  have  lain  dor 


THE  DIFFICULTIES   OF   SCRIPTURE. 


133 


mant,  has  given  fixedness  where  it 
thought  to  undermine.  But  if  there 
were  no  scriptural  difficulties,  we  could 
have  no  controversy.  The  "  things  hard 
to  be  understood  "  form  the  groundwork 
of  difl'erences  of  opinion  :  and,  if  these 
were  swept  away,  there  would  either  be 
space  for  only  one  theory,  or,  if  another 
were  broached,  it  would  be  too  absurd 
for  debate.  So  that  scriptural  difficul- 
ties are  literally  the  perservatives  of 
Bound  doctrine.  The  Church  would 
slumber  into  ignorance  of  even  simple 
and  elementary  truth,  if  there  were  no 
hard  things,  which,  wrested  by  the  un- 
stable, keep  her  always  on  the  alert. 
And  if,  therefore,  the  upholding,  through 
successive  generations,  of  a  clear  and 
orthodox  creed,  be  a  result  which  you 
hail  as  teeming  with  advantage,  have  we 
not  a  right  to  press  home  on  you  the  fact 
that  it  is  advantageous  to  mankind  that 
there  are  in  the  bible  "  some  things  hard 
to  be  understood  'I  " 

We  might  extend  on  all  sides  our 
view  of  the  advantages  of  difficulties. 
But  we  are  confined  by  the  limits  of  a 
discourse,  and  shall  only  adduce  one 
other  illusti-ation.  When  I  read  the  Bi- 
ble, and  meet  with  passages  which,  after 
the  most  patient  exercises  of  thought 
and  research,  remain  dark  and  impenetra- 
ble, then,  in  the  most  especial  degree,  I 
feel  myself  immortal.  The  finding  a 
thing  "  hard  to  be  understood  "  ministers 
to  my  consciousness  that  I  am  no  perish- 
able creature,  destined  to  a  finite  exist- 
ence, but  a  child  of  eternity,  appointed 
to  survive  the  dissolutions  of  matter,  and 
to  enter  on  another  and  an  untried  being. 
If  the  Bible  be  God's  revelation  of  himself 
to  mankind,  it  is  a  most  fair  expectation, 
that,  at  one  time  or  another,  the  whole 
of  this  revelation  will  be  clear  and  ac- 
cessible ;  that  the  obscure  points,  which 
we  cannot  now  elucidate,  and  the  lofty 
points,  which  we  cannot  now  scale,  will 
be  enlightened  by  the  flashings  of  a  bright- 
er luminary,  and  given  up  to  the  march- 
ings of  a  more  vigorous  inquiry.  We 
can  never  think  that  God  would  tell  man 
things  for  the  understanding  of  which 
he  is  to  be  always  incapacitated.  If  he 
know  them  not  now,  the  very  fact  of  their 
being  told  is  sufficient  proof  that  he 
shall  know  them  hereafter.  And,  there- 
fore, in  every  scriptural  difficulty  I  read 
the  pledge  of  a  mighty  enlargement  of 
the  human  faculties.     In  every  mystery, 


though  a  darkness  thick  as  the  Eg^'ptian 
may  now  seem  to  shroud  it,  I  can  find 
one  bright  and  burning  spot,  glov/ing 
with  promise  that  there  shall  yet  como 
a  day,  when,  every  power  of  the  soul 
being  wrought  into  a  celestial  strength, 
I  shall  be  privileged,  as  it  were,  to 
stretch  out  the  hand  of  the  lawgiver  and 
roll  back  the  clouds  which  here  envel- 
ope the  truth.  I  can  muse  upon  one  ot 
those  things  which  are  "  hard  to  be 
understood,"  till  it  seem  to  put  on  the 
prophet's  mantle,  and  preach  to  me  of 
futurity ;  telling  me,  in  accents  more 
spirit  stirring  than  those  of  the  boldest 
of  mortal  oratory,  that  the  present  is  but 
the  infancy  of  my  being  ;  and  that,  in  a 
nobler  and  more  glorious  estate,  I  shall 
start  from  moral  and  mental  dwarfish- 
ness,  and  endowed  with  vigor  of  percep- 
tion* and  keenness  of  vision,  and  vast- 
ness  of  apprehension,  walk  the  labyrinth, 
and  pierce  the  rock,  and  weigh  the 
mountain.  Oh,  I  can  thank  God  that, 
amongst  those  countless  mercies  which 
he  has  poured  down  on  our  pathway,  he 
hath  given  us  a  Bible  which  is  not  in 
every  part  to  be  explained.  The  diffi- 
culties of  Holy  Writ — let  them  be  made 
by  objectors  the  subject  of  marvel,  or  of 
cavil — they  constitute  one  great  sheet  of 
our  charter  of  immortality :  and,  in 
place  of  wondering  that  God  should 
have  permitted  them,  or  lamenting  that 
they  cannot  be  overcome,  I  rejoice  in 
them  as  earnests,  given  me  by  Him 
"  who  cannot  lie,"  Titus,  1  :  2,  that  man 
hath  yet  to  advance  to  a  sublime  rank 
amongst  orders  of  intelligence,  and  to 
stand,  in  the  maturity  of  his  strength,  in 
the  very  centre  of  the  panorama  of  truth. 
And  if  it  be  true  that  every  mystery  in 
Scripture,  as  giving  pledge  of  an  en- 
largement of  capacities,  witnesses  to  the 
glories  with  which  the  future  comes 
charged;  and  if  from  every  intricate 
passage,  and  every  dark  saying,  and 
every  unfathomable  statement,  we  draw 
new  proof  of  the  magnificence  of  our 
destinies  ;  which  of  you  will  withhold  his 
confession,  that  the  difficulties  of  the 
Bible  are  productive  of  benefit,  and  that, 
consequently,  there  result  advantages 
from  the  fact,  that  there  are  jn  Scripture 
some  "  things  hard  to  be  understood]" 
Such  are  certain  of  the  advantages 
which  we  proposed  to  investigate.  It 
yet  remains  that  we  briefly  state,  and 
call  upon  you  to  cultivate,  the  disposi- 


134 


THE  DIPPICCLTIES  OP  SCRIPTURE. 


tions  which  should  be  brought  to  the 
study  of  a  Bible  tlius  '*  hard  to  be  un- 
derstood." We  have  shown  you  that 
there  are  difficulties  in  Scripture  which 
must  remain  unexplained  whilst  we  con- 
tinue in  the  flesh.  Other  difficulties  in- 
deed may  be  removed  by  thought,  and 
prayer,  and  research  ;  and  we  would 
not  have  you  sparing  of  any  of  these 
appliances  when  you  examine  the  vol- 
ume of  inspiiation.  But  difficulties 
which  are  inlicrent  in  the  subject  ; 
things  ''  hard  to  be  understood  "  be- 
cause they  deal,  for  example,  with  the 
nature,  and  purposes,  and  workings  of 
Deity  ;  these  are  not  to  be  mastered  by 
any  powers  of  reason,  and  are,  there- 
fore, matters  for  the  exercise  of  faith 
rather  than  of  intellect.  We  ought  to 
know  before  we  open  the  Bible,  that  it 
must  present  difficulties  of  this  'class 
and  description.  We  are  therefore 
bound,  if,  in  idolizing  reason,  we  should 
not  degrade  and  decry  it,  to  sit  down 
to  the  study  of  Scripture  with  a  meek 
and  chastened  understanding,  expect- 
ing to  be  baffled,  and  ready  to  submit. 
We  tell  the  young  amongst  you  more 
especially,  who,  in  the  pride  of  an  un- 
disciplined intellect,  would  turn  to  St. 
Paul,  as  they  turn  to  Bacon  or  Locke, 
argi'ing  that  what  was  written  for  man 
must  be  comprehensible  by  man — we 
tell  them  that  nothing  is  excellent  out 
of  its  place  ;  and  that,  in  the  examina- 
tion of  Scripture,  tlien  only  does  rea- 
son show  herself  noble,  when,  conscious 
of  the  presence  of  a  king,  the  knee  is 
bent,  and  the  head  uncovered.  We 
would  have  it,  therefore,  remembered, 
that  the  docility  and  submissiveness  of 
a  child  alone  befit  the  student  of  the 
Bible  ;  and  that,  if  we  would  not  have 
the  whole  volume  darkened,  its  sim- 
plest truths  eluding  the  grasp  of  our 
understanding,  or  gaining,  at  least,  no 
hold  on  our  affections,  we  must  lay 
aside  the  feelings  which  we  carry  into 
the  domains  of  science  and  philosophy, 
not  arming  ourselves  with  a  chivalrous 
resolve  to  conquer,  but  with  one  which 
it  is  a  thousand-fold  harder  either  to 
fonn  or  execute,  to  yield. 

The  Holy  Spirit  alone  can  make  us 
feel  the  things  which  are  easy  to  be  un- 
derstood, and  prevent  our  wresting 
those  whicli  are  hard.  Never,  then, 
should  the  Bible  be  opened  except  with 
prayer  for  the  teachings  of  this  Spirit. 


You  will  read  without  profit,  as  long  as 
you  read  without  prayer.  It  is  only  in 
the  degree  that  the  Spirit,  which  indi- 
ted a  text,  takes  it  from  the  page  and 
breathes  it  into  tlte  heart,  that  we  can 
comprehend  its  meaning,  be  touched 
by  its  beauty,  stirred  by  its  remon- 
strance, or  animated  by  its  promise. 
We  shall  never,  then,  master  scriptu- 
ral difficulties  by  the  methods  which 
prove  successful  in  graj)pling  with  phi- 
losophical. Why  is  it  that  the  poor 
peasant,  whose  understanding  is  weak 
and  undisciplined,  has  clear  insight  in- 
to the  meaning  of  verses,  and  finds  in 
them  irresistible  power  and  inexhausti- 
ble comfort,  whilst  the  very  same  pas- 
sages are  given  up  as  mysteries,  oi 
overlooked  as  unimportant,  by  the  high 
and  lettered  champion  of  a  scholastic 
theology  1  It  were  idle  to  deny  that  our 
rustic  divines  will  oftentimes  travel, 
with  a  far  stancher  and  more  dominant 
step  than  our  collegiate,  into  the  depths 
of  a  scriptural  statement  ;  and  that  you 
might  obtain  from  some  of  the  patri- 
archs of  our  valleys,  whos^  chief  in- 
struction has  been  their  own  communing 
with  the  Almighty,  such  explanations 
of  "  things  hard  to  be  understood  "  as 
would  put  to  shame  the  commentai-ies 
of  our  most  learned  expositors.  And 
of  this  phenomenon  the  solution  would 
be  hopeless,  if  there  were  not  a  broad 
instituted  difference  between  human 
and  sacred  literature  :  "  the  kingdom  ot 
heaven  "  being  "  like  unto  treasure  hid 
in  a  field  ;  "  Matt.  13  :  44  ;  and  the 
finding  this  treasure  depending  not  at 
all  on  the  power  of  the  intellect  brought 
to  the  search,  but  on  the  heartiness  and 
the  earnestness  with  which  the  Psalm- 
ist's prayer  is  used,  "  open  thou  mine 
eyes,  that  I  may  behold  wondrous  things 
out  of  thy  law."  Psalm  119  :  18.  It 
you  open  a  scientific  book,  or  study  an 
abstruse  and  metaphysical  work,  let  rea- 
son gird  herself  boldly  for  the  task  :  the 
province  belongs  fairly  to  her  jurisdic- 
tion ;  and  she  may  cling  to  her  own  en- 
ergies without  laying  herself  open  to  the 
charge,  that,  accorcling  to  the  charac- 
teristic which  Joel  gives  of  the  last 
limes,  the  weak  is  vaunting  itself  the 
strong.  Joel,  3  :  10.  But  if  you  open 
the  Bible,  and  sit  down  to  the  investi- 
gation of  scriptural  truth,  you  are  in  a 
district  which  lies  far  beyond  the  just 
limits  of  the  empire  of  reason  :    theie 


THE  DIFFICULTIES   OP  SCRIPTURE. 


135 


is  need  of  an  apparatus  wholly  distinct 
from  that  which  sufficed  for  your  for- 
mer inquiry  :  and  if  you  think  to  compre- 
hend revelation,  except  so  far  as  the 
author  shall  act  as  interpreter,  you  are, 
most  emphatically,  the  weak  pronounc- 
ing yourselves  the  strong,  and  tlio  13iblc 
shall  be  to  you  a  closed  book,  and  you 
shall  break  not  the  seals  which  Ciod 
himself  hath  placed  on  the  volume. 
Oh,  they  are  seals  which  melt  away  like 
a  snow-wreath,  before  the  breathings  of 
the  Spirit  ;  but  not  all  the  fire  of  hu- 
man genius  shall  ever  jorevail  to  dissolve 
or  loosen  them. 

We  feel  that  we  have  a  difficult  part 
to  perform  in  ministering  to  the  con- 
gregation which  assembles  within  these 
walls.  Gathered  as  it  is,  from  many 
parts,  and,  without  question,  including 
oftentimes  numbers  who  make  no  pro- 
fession whatsoever  of  religion,  we  think 
it  bound  on  us  to  seek  out  great  variety 
of  subjects,  so  that,  if  possible,  the  case 
of  none  of  the  audience  may  be  quite 
overlooked  in  a  series  of  discourses. 
And  we  feel  it  peculiarly  needful,  that 
we  touch  now  and  then,  as  we  have 
done  this  night,  on  topics  connected 
with  infidelity,  because  we  fear  that  in- 
fidelity is  growing  in  the  land,  and  spe- 
cially amongst  its  well-educated  youth. 
If  there  be  one  saying  in  the  Bible, 
bearing  reference  to  the  things  of  the 
present  dispensation,  on  which  we  look 
with  greater  awe  than  on  another,  it  is 
this  of  Christ  Jesus,  "  when  the  Son  of 
Man  cometh,  shall  he  find  faith  on  the 
earth  ?  "  Luke,  IS  :  8.  It  would  seem 
to  mark  out  a  fierce  conflict  of  antago- 
nist principles,  issuing  in  the  almost  to- 
tal ejectment  of  Christianity  ;  so  that, 
when  the  day  of  the  second  advent  is 
ushered  in  by  its  august  heraldry,  it 
shall  dawn  upon  blasted  and  blackened 
scenery,  and  discover  the  mass  of  man- 
kind carrying  on,  amid  demolished  tem- 
ples and  desecrated  Bibles,  the  orgies 
of  a  dark  and  desperate  revelry.  And 
knowing  that  such  is  the  tenor  of  proph- 
esy, and  gathering  from  many  and  infal- 
lible signs,  that  already  has  the  war-tug 
begun,  we  warn  you,  and  beseech  you, 
with  all  the  veins  of  our  heart,  that  ye 
be  on  your  guard  against  the  iin-oads  of 
scepticism.  We  speak  jieculiarly  to  the 
young,  the  young  men  who  throng  this 
chapel,  and  who,  in  the  intercourses  of 
life,  will  meet  with  many  who  lie  in  wait 


to  deceive.  It  is  not  possible  that  you 
should  mix  much  with  the  men  of  this 
liberal  and  libertine  age,  and  not  hear 
Insinuations,  either  more  or  less  direct, 
thrown  out  against  the  grand  and  sav- 
ing tenets  of  Christianity.  You  cannot, 
even  by  the  exercise  of  the  most  godly 
circumspection,  keep  yourselves  wholly 
at  a  distance  from  the  sarcasms  or  soph- 
isms of  insidious  and  pestilent  teachers. 
The  enemy  is  ever  on  the  watch  :  and, 
adapting  himself  to  tlie  various  disposi- 
tions and  circumstances  of  those  whom 
he  seeks  to  entangle,  can  address  the 
illiterate  with  a  hollow  jest,  and  assail 
the  educated  with  a  well-turned  objec- 
tion. Oh,  I  could  tremble  for  those, 
who,  blind  to  the  weakness  which  is 
naturally  the  portion  of  our  race,  and 
rashly  confident  in  a  strength  to  which 
the  fallen  have  no  jot  of  pretension,  ad- 
venture themselves  now  upon  the  sea  of 
life,  and  go  forth  into  a  world  where 
must  often  be  encountered  temptations, 
to  think  lightly  of  the  faith  of  their  fath- 
ers. Oh,  I  say,  I  could  tremble  for 
them.  If  any  amongst  you — I  speak  it 
with  all  affection,  and  from  the  knowl- 
edge which  positions  in  life  have  ena- 
bled me  to  form  of  the  progress  of 
youthful  infidelity — if  any  amongst  you 
enter  the  busy  scenes  of  society,  with 
an  overweening  confidence  in  your  own 
capacities,  with  the  lofty  opinion  of  the 
powers  of  reason,  and  with  a  hardy  jier- 
suaslon  that  there  is  nerve  enough  in 
the  mind  to  grapple  with  divine  myste- 
ries, and  vigor  enough  to  discover  truth 
for  itself- — if,  in  short,  you,  the  weak, 
shall  say  we  are  strong — then  I  fear  for 
you,  far  more  than  I  can  tell,  that  you 
may  fall  an  easy  prey  to  some  champion 
of  lieretical  error,  and  give  ready  ear  to 
the  flattering  schemes  of  the  worship- 
pers of  intellect  ;  and  that  thus  a  mor- 
tal blight  shall  desecrate  the  buds  of 
early  promise,  and  eternity  frown  on  you 
with  all  the  cheerlessness  which  it  wears 
to  those  who  despise  the  blood  of  atone- 
ment, and  you — the  children,  it  may  be, 
of  pious  parents,  over  whose  Infancy  a 
godly  father  hath  watched,  and  whose 
young  years  have  been  guarded  by  the 
tender  solicitudes  of  a  righteous  mother 
— you  may  win  to  yourselves  a  heritage 
of  shame  and  confusion,  and  go  down, 
at  the  judgment,  into  the  pit  of  the  un- 
believing and  scornful.  Better,  infinite- 
ly better  would  it  have  been,  that  your 


136 


TtfE  DIFFICULTIES  OP  SCRIPTURE. 


parents  had  seen  you  coffined  and  se- 
pulchred, ere  as  yet  ye  knew  evil  from 
good,  than  that  they  should  have  nursed 
you,  and  nurtured  you,  to  swell,  in  latter 
days,  the  ranks  of  the  apostate.  Be  ad- 
monished, by  the  subject  which  we  have 
this  night  discussed,  to  distrust  your- 
selves, and  to  depend  on  a  higher  teach- 
ing than  human.  Difficulties  there  are 
in  the  Eible  :  but  they  ought  rather  to 
assure,  than  make  you  doubtful  of,  the 
divinity  of  its  origin.  And  if  you  are 
assailed  with  sceptical  objections  which 
you  are  imable  to  answer,  have  the 
candor  and  modesty  to  suspect  that  a 
straight-forward  and  sufficient  answer 
there  may  be,  though  you  have  not  the 
penetration  to  discover  it.  Lay  not  the 
blame  on  the  deficiences  of  Christianity, 
when  it  may  possibly  lie  in  the  deficien- 
cies of  your  own  information.  The 
argument  was  never  fi-amed  against  the 
truth  of  our  religion,  which  has  not  been 
completely  taken  off,  and  triumphantly 
refuted.  Hesitate,  therefore,  before  you 
conclude  a  sceptic  in  the  right,  just  be- 
cause you  are  not  able  to  prove  him  in 
the  wrong.  We  give  you  this  advice, 
simply  and  affectionately.  We  see  your 
danger,  and  we  long  for  your  souls. 
Bear  with  us  yet  a  moment.  We  would 
not  weary  you  :  but  speaking  on  the 
topic  of  "  things  hard  to  be  understood," 
we  feel  compelled  to  dwell,  at  some 
length,  on  the  scepticism  of  the  age.  I 
can  never  dare  answer,  when  I  stand  up 
in  this  holy  place,  and  speak  to  you  on 
the  truths  of  our  religion,  that  I  address 
not  some  who  throw  on  these  truths  ha- 
bitual contempt,  who  count  Christianity 
the  plaything  of  children,  invented  by 
imposture,  and  cradled  in  ignorance. 
And  if  I  knew  that  even  now  there 
■were  such  amongst  you  ;  if  they  were 
pointed  out  to  me,  so  that  I  might  stand 
face  to  face  with  the  despisers  of  our 
Lord — the  thunder,  tha  sack-cloth  of 
hair,  the  worm  that  dieJ  not,  the  fire 
that  is  not  quenched — should  I  array 
against  them  these  terrible  things,  and 
turn  upon  them  the  battery  of  the  de- 
nunciati<ms  of  God's  wrath  ?  Alas, 
alas,  I  should  have  no  moral  hold  on 
them  with  all  this  apparatus  of  wo  and 
destruction.  They  might  wrap  them- 
selves up  in  their  scepticism.  They 
might  tell  me  they  had  read  too  much, 
and  learned  too  much,  to  be  scared  by 
the  trickeries  of  priestcraft  :  and  th.™*^  , 


by  denying  the  authority  of  Scnpture, 
they  would  virtually  blunt  all  my  weap- 
ons of  attack,  and  show  themselves  in- 
vulnerable, because  they  had  made 
themselves  insensible.  There  is  nothing 
that  the  minister  could  do,  save  that 
which  Elisha  the  prophet  did,  when 
speaking  with  Hazael  :  "  he  settled  his 
countenance  steadfastly,  until  he  was 
ashamed  :  and  the  man  of  God  wept." 
2  Kings,  8  :  10.  Who  could  do  other- 
wise than  weep  over  the  spectacle  of 
talents,  and  hopes,  and  affections,  taint- 
ed with  the  leprous  spots  of  moral  de- 
cay, the  spectacle  of  a  blighted  immor- 
tality>  the  spectacle — a  glimpse  of  which 
must  almost  convulse  with  amazement 
the  glorious  ranks  of  the  celestial  world 
— that  of  a  being  whom  Christ  purchas- 
ed with  his  blood,  whom  the  Almighty 
hath  invited,  yea  besought,  to  have  mer- 
cy upon  himself,  turning  into  jest  the 
messages  of  the  Gospel,  denying  the 
divinity  of  the  Lord  his  Redeemer,  or 
building  up,  with  the  shreds  and  frag- 
ments of  human  reason,  a  baseless 
structure,  which,  like  the  palace  of  ice, 
shall  resolve  itself  suddenly  into  a  tu- 
multuous flood,  bearing  away  the  inhab- 
itant, a  struggling  thing,  but  a  lost  ? 
Yea,  if  I  knew  there  were  one  amongst 
you  who  had  surrendered  himself  to 
the  lies  of  an  ensnaring  philosophy, 
then,  although  I  should  feel,  that,  per- 
haps even  whilst  I  speak,  he  is  pitying 
my  credulity,  or  ridiculing  my  fanati- 
cism, I  would  not  suffer  him  to  depart 
without  calling  on  the  congregation  to 
baptize  him,  as  it  were,  with  their  tears  ; 
and  he  should  be  singled  out — oh,  not 
for  rebuke,  not  for  contempt,  not  for  an- 
ger— but  as  more  deserving  to  be  wept 
over,  and  wailed  over,  than  the  poorest 
child  of  human  calamity,  more  worthy 
of  the  agonies  of  mortal  symj)athy, 
than  he  who  eats  the  bitterest  bread  of 
affliction,  and  in  whose  ear  ring  mourn- 
fully the  sleepless  echoes  of  a  funeral 
bell.  Yea,  and  he  should  not  leave  the 
sanctuary  till  we  had  told  him,  that, 
though  there  be  in  the  Bible  "  things 
hard  to  be  imderstood,"  there  is  one 
thing  beautifully  plain,  and  touchingly 
simple  :  and  that  is,  that  "  the  blood  of 
Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin." 
1  John,  1:7.  So  that  it  is  not  yet  too 
late  :  the  blasphemer,  the  scorner,  the 
infidel — oh,  the  fire  is  not  yet  falling, 
and  the   earth  is  not  yet  opening — let 


THE  DIFFICULTIES  OP  SCRIPTURE 


137 


him  turn  unto  the  Lord,  and  confess 
his  iniquity,  and  cry  for  pardon,  and  a 
sweep  of  joy  from  the  angels'  harp- 
strings  shall  tell  out  the  astounding  fact, 
that  he  is  no  longer  a  stranger  and  for- 
eigner, but  a  ^How-citizen  with  the 
saints,  and  of  the  household  of  God. 

But  we  hasten  to  a  conclusion.  We 
again  press  upon  all  of  you  the  import- 
ance of  reading  the  Bible  with  prayer. 
And  whilst  the  consciousness  that 
Scripture  contains  "  things  hard  to  be 
understood,"  should  bring  us  to  its  stu- 
dy, in  a  dependent  and  humble  temper, 
the  thought,  that  what  we  know  not 
now,  we  shall  know  hereafter,  should 
make  each  difficulty,  as  we  leave  it  un- 
vanquished,  minister  to  our  assurance 
that  a  wider  sphere  of  being,  a  nearer 
vision,  and  mightier  faculties,  await  us 
when  the  second  advent  of  the  Lord 
winds  up  the  dispensation.  Thus  should 
the  mysteries  of  the  Bible  teach  us,  at 
one  and  the  same  time,  our  nothing- 


ness, and  our  greatness  ;  producino-  hu- 
mility, and  animating  hope.  I  bow  be- 
fore theso  mysteries.  I  knew -that  I 
should  find,  and  I  pretend  not  to  re- 
move them.  But  whilst  I  thus  prostrate 
myself,  it  is  with  deep  gladness  and  ex- 
ultation of  spirit.  God  would  not  have 
hinted  the  mystery,  had  he  not  desi"^ned 
hereafter  to  explain.  And,  therefore, 
are  my  thoughts  on  a  far-off  home,  and 
rich  things  are  around  me,  and  the 
voices  of  many  harpers,  and  the  shin- 
ings  of  bright  constellations,  and  the 
clusters  of  the  cherub  and  the  seraph  ; 
and  a  whisper,  which  seems  not  of  this 
earth,  is  circulating  through  the  soul, 
"  Now  we  see  through  a  glass  darkly, 
but  then  face  to  face  ;  now  I  know  in 
part,  but  then  shall  I  know  even  as  also 
I  am  known."  1  Cor.  13  :  12.  May 
God  grant  unto  all  of  us  to  be  both 
abased  and  quickened  by  those  things 
in  the  Bible  which  are  "  hard  to  be  uu- 
derstood." 


18 


S  E  E  M  0  I  S 


PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAMBRIDGE. 


FEBRUARY,  1836. 


The  Author  begs  to  state,  that  he  prints  these  Sermons  in  compliance  with  the  wish  of  many 
Members  of  the  University.  Immediately  after  their  delivery,  he  received  an  address  from  the 
resident  Bachelors  and  Undergraduates,  headed  by  the  most  distinguished  names,  and  numerously 
signed,  requesting  their  publication.  The  same  request  was  also  made  from  other  quarters. 
Under  these  circumstances  the  Author  felt  that  he  had  nothing  to  do,  but  to  regret  that  the 
Sermons  were  not  more  deserving  of  the  interest  thus  kindly  manifested,  and  to  commit  them  at 
once  to  the  press. 

Camberwell,  March  10,  1836. 


SERMON    I. 


THE  GREATNESS  AND  CONDESCENSION  OF  GOD. 


"  Thy  kingdom  is  an  everlasting  kingdom,  and  thy  dominion  endureth  throughout  ail  generations.    The  Lord  up 
holdeth  all  that  fall,  and  lifteth  up  all  those  that  be  bowed  down."' — Psalm,  cxlv.  13,  14. 


What  we  admire  in  these  verses,  is 
their  combining  the  magnificence  of  un- 
limited power  with  the  assiduity  of 
unlimited  tenderness.  It  is  this  combi- 
nation which  men  are  apt  to  regard  as 
well-nigh  incredible,  supposing  that  a 
Being  so  great  as  God  can  never  concern 
himself  witli  beings  so  inconsiderable  as 
themselves.  Tell  them  that  God  lifteth 
up  those  that  be  bowed  down,  and  they 
cannot  imagine  that  his  kingdom  and 
dominion  arc  unbounded  ;  — or  tell  them, 
on  the  other  hand,  of  the  greatness  of 
his  empire,  and  they  think  it  impossible 
that  he  should  upliold  all  that  fall.  If 
you  represent  Deity  as  busied  with  what 
they  reckon  insignificant,  the  rapid  im- 
pression is,  that  he  cannot,  at  the  same 
time,  be  equally  attentive  to  what  is  vast ; 
and  if  you  exl»ibit  him  as  occupied  with 


what  is  vast,  there  is  a  sudden  misgiving 
that  the  insignificant  must  escape  his 
observation.  And  it  is  of  great  import- 
ance, that  men  be  taught  to  view  in  God 
that  combination  of  properties  which  is 
affirmed  in  our  text.  It  is  certain  that 
the  greatness  of  God  is  often  turned  into 
an  argument,  by  which  men  would  bring 
doubt  on  the  truths  of  Redemption  and 
Providence.  The  unmeasured  inferi- 
ority of  man  to  his  Maker  is  used  in 
proof,  that  so  costly  a  work  as  that  ot 
Redemption  can  never  have  been  exe- 
cuted on  our  behalf;  and  that  so  un- 
wearied a  watchfulness  as  that  of  Prov- 
idence can  never  be  engaged  in  our 
service.  Whereas,  no  reason  whatever 
can  be  derived  from  our  confessed  insig- 
nificance, against  our  being  the  objects 
whether  of  Redemption  or  of  Piovi- 


THE  GREATNESS  AND  CONDESCENSION  OF  GOD. 


139 


dence — seeing  it  is  equally  characteristic 
of  Deity,  to  attend  to  the  inconsiderable 
and  to  the  great,  to  extend  liis  dominion 
throughout  all  genei'ations,  and  to  lift 
up  those  that  be  bowed  down. 

It  is  on  this  truth  we  would  employ 
our  present  discourse,  endeavoring  to 
prove,  that  human  insignificance,  as  set 
in  contrast  with  divine  greatness,  fur- 
nishes no  argument  against  the  docti-ine 
of  our  Redemption,  and  none  against 
that  of  an  universal  Providence. 

Now  a  man  will  consider  the  heavens, 
the  work  of  God's  fingers,  the  moon  and 
the  stars  which  he  hath  ordained,  and 
he  will  perceive  that  the  earth  on  which 
we  dwell  is  but  the  solitary  unit  of  an 
innumerable  multitude.  It  appears  to 
him  as  though,  if  this  globe  were  sud- 
denly annihilated,  it  would  scarcely  be 
missed  from  the  firmament,  and  leave 
no  felt  vacancy  in  the  still  crowded  fields 
of  the  heavens.  And  if  our  earth  be 
thus  so  insignificant  an  unit  that  its  ab- 
straction would  not  disturb  the  splendors 
and  harmonies  of  the  universe,  how  shall 
we  think  that  God  hath  done  so  won- 
drous a  thing  for  its  inhabitants  as  to 
send  his  own  Son  to  die  in  their  stead  1 
Thus  an  argument  is  attempted  to  be 
drawn  from  the  insignificance  of  man  to 
the  improbability  of  Redemption ;  one 
verse  of  our  text  is  set  against  the  other ; 
and  the  confessed  fact,  that  God's  do- 
minion is  throufjhout  all  orenerations,  is 
opposed  to  the  alleged  fact,  that  he  gave 
his  own  Son  that  he  might  lift  up  the 
fallen. 

But  it  ought  at  least  to  be  remembered 
that  man  was  God's  workmanship,  made 
after  his  image,  and  endowed  with  pow- 
ers which  fitted  him  for  lofty  pursuits. 
The  human  race  may  or  may  not  be  insig- 
nificant. We  know  nothing  of  the  or- 
ders of  intelligence  which  stretch  up- 
wards between  oui'selves  and  God  ;  and 
we  ai'e  therefore  incompetent  to  decide 
what  place  we  occupy  in  the  scale  of 
creation.  But  at  the  least  we  know,  in- 
dependently of  Revelation,  that  a  mag- 
nificent scene  was  appointed  for  our 
dwelling ;  and  that  when  God  reared  a 
home  for  man,  he  built  it  of  the  sublime 
and  the  beautiful,  and  lavished  alike  his 
might  and  his  skill  on  the  furniture  of 
its  chambers.  No  one  can  survey  the 
works  of  nature,  and  not  perceive  that 
God  has  some  regai'd  for  the  children  of 
men,  however  fallen  and  polluted  they 


may  be.  And  if  God  manifest  a  regard 
for  us  in  temporal  things,  it  must  be  fai 
from  incredible  that  he  would  do  tho 
same  in  spiritual.  There  can  be  nothin» 
fairer  than  the  expectation,  that  he 
would  provide  for  our  well-being  as 
moral  and  accountable  crcatur.es,  with  a 
cai-e  at  least  equal  to  that  exhibited  to- 
wards us  in  our  natural  capacity.  So 
that  it  is  perfectly  credible  that  God 
would  do  something  on  behalf  of  the 
fallen  ;  and  then  the  question  is,  whether 
any  thing  less  than  Redemption  through 
Christ  would  be  of  worth  and  of  efficacy"? 
It  is  certain  that  we  cannot  conceive  any 
possible  mode,  except  the  revealed  mode 
through  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  in  which 
God  could  be  both  just  and  the  justifier 
of  sinners.  Reckon  and  reason  as  we 
will,  we  can  sketch  out  no  plan  by  which 
transgressors  might  be  saved,  the  divine 
attributes  honored,  and  yet  Christ  not 
have  died.  So  far  as  we  have  the  power 
of  ascertaining,  man  must  have  remain- 
ed unredeemed, had  he  not  been  redeem- 
ed through  the  Incarnation  and  Cru- 
cifixion. And  if  it  be  ciedible  that  God 
would  effectively  interpose  on  man's 
behalf;  and  if  the  only  discoverable  me- 
thod in  which  he  could  thus  interpose, 
be  that  of  Redemption  through  the 
sacrifice  of  his  Son ;  what  becomes  of 
the  alleged  inci-edibility,  founded  on  the 
greatness  of  God  as  contrasted  with  the 
insignificance  of  man  1  We  do  not  de- 
preciate the  wonders  of  the  interference. 
We  will  go  all  lengths  in  proclaiming 
it  a  prodigy  which  confounds  the  most 
masterful,  and  in  pronouncing  it  a  mys- 
tery whose  depths  not  even  angels  can 
fathom,  that,  for  the  sake  of  beings  in- 
considerable as  ourselves,  there  should 
have  been  acted  out  an  arrangement 
which  brought  Godhead  into  flesh,  and 
gave  up  the  Creator  to  ignominy  and 
death.  But  the  greatness  of  the  wonder 
furnishes  no  just  ground  for  its  disbelief. 
There  can  be  no  weight  in  the  reasoning, 
that  because  man  is  so  low  and  God  so 
high,  no  such  work  can  have  been 
wrought  as  the  Redemption  of  our  race. 
We  are  certain  that  we  are  cared  for  in 
our  temporal  capacity;  and  we  conclude, 
therefore,  that  we  cannot  have  been 
neglected  in  our  eternal.  And  then — • 
finding  that,  unless  redeemed  through 
the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  there  is  no  sup- 
posable  method  of  human  deliverance — 
it  is  not  the  brightness  of  the  moon  as 


140 


THE  GREATNESS  AND  CONDESCENSION  OP  GOD. 


she  travels  in  her  lustre,  and  it  is  not  i 
the  array  of  stars  which  are  marshalled 
on  the  firmament,  that  shall  make  us 
deem  it  incredible  that  God  would  give 
his  Son  for  our  rescue  :  rather  since 
moon  and  stars  light  up  man's  home, 
they  shall  do  nothing  but  assure  us  of 
the  Creator's  loving-kindness  ;  and  thus 
render  it  a  thing  to  be  believed — though 
still  amazing,  still  stupendous — that  He 
whose  kingdom  is  an  everlasting  king- 
dom, and  whose  dominion  endureth 
throughout  all  generations,  should  have 
made  himself  to  be  sin  f()r  us,  that  He 
might  upheld  all  that  fall,  and  lift  up  all 
those  that  be  bowed  down. 

But  it  is  in  regard  to  the  doctrine  of  an 
universal  Providence  that  men  are  most 
ready  to  raise  objections,  from  the  great- 
ness of  God  as  contrasted  with  their  own 
insignificance.  They  cannot  believe  that 
he  who  is  so  mighty  as  to  rule  the  heaven- 
ly hosts  can  condescend  to  notice  the 
wants  of  the  meanest  of  his  creatures;  and 
thus  they  deny  to  him  the  combination  of 
properties  asserted  in  our  text,  that,  whilst 
possessed  of  unlimited  empire,  he  sus- 
tains the  feeble  and  raises  the  prostrate. 

We  shall  not  stay  to  expose  the  false- 
ness of  an  opinion  which  has  sometimes 
found  advocates,  that,  having  created 
this  world,  God  left  it  to  itself,  and  be- 
stows no  thought  on  its  concerns.  But 
whilst  few  would  hold  the  opinion  in 
the  extent  thus  announced,  many  would 
limit  the  divine  providence,  and  thus 
take  from  the  doctrine  its  great  beauty 
and  comfort.  It  is  easy  and  common  to 
represent  it  as  incompatible  with  the 
confessed  grandeur  of  our  Maker,  that 
he  should  busy  himself  with  the  con- 
cerns of  the  poorest  of  his  creatures  :  but 
Buch  reasoning  betrays  ignorance  as  to 
what  it  is  in  which  greatness  consists.  It 
may  be  that,  amongst  finite  beings,  it  is 
not  easy,  and  perhaps  not  possible,  that 
attention  to  what  is  minute,  or  compara- 
tively unimportant,  should  be  combined 
with  attention  to  things  of  vast  moment. 
But  wc  never  reckon  it  an  excellence 
that  there  is  not,  or  cannot  be,  this  union. 
On  the  contrary,  we  should  declare  that 
man  at  the  very  summit  of  true  greatness, 
who  proved  himself  able  to  unite  what 
had  seemed  incompatible.  If  a  man, 
for  example,  be  a  great  statesman,  and 
the  management  of  a  vast  empire  be  de- 
livered into  his  hands,  we  can  scarcely 
expect  that,    amid    the  multiplicity    of 


mighty  afTTairs  which  solicit  his  atterition, 
he  should  find  time  for  the  duties  of  more 
ordinary  life.     We  feel  that,  engrossed 
with  occupations  of  overwhelming  im- 
portance, it  is  hardly    possible  that  ho 
should    be  assiduous  in  the  instruction 
of  his  children,  or  the  inspection  of  his 
servants,  or  the  visiting  and  relieving  his 
distressed  fellow-men.      But  we  never 
feel  that  his  greatness  would  be  dimin- 
ished, if  he  were  thus  assiduous.    We  are 
ready,  on  the  contrary,  to  admit  that  we 
should  give  him,  in  a  higher  degree  than 
ever,  our  respect  and  admiration,  if  he 
knew  that  whilst  he  had  his  eye  on  every 
wheel  in  the  machinery  of  government, 
and  his  comprehensive  mind  included  all 
that  had  a  bearing  on  the  well-being  of 
the  empire,  he  discharged  with  exem- 
plary   fidelity  every  relative  duty,  and 
entered  with  as  much  assiduousness  into 
all  that  concerned  his  neighbors  and  de- 
pendents, as  though  he  had  not  to  ex- 
tend his  carefulness  over  the  thousand 
departments  of    a  complicated  system. 
What  would  be  thought  of  that  man's 
estimate  of  greatness,  who  should  reckon 
it  derogatory    to  the  statesman  that  he 
thus  combined    attention  to  the  incon- 
siderable with  attention  to  the  stupen- 
dous ;  and  who  should  count  it  inconsis- 
tent with  the    loftiness  of    his  station, 
that,  amid  duties  as  arduous  as  faithfully 
discharged,  he  had  an  ear  for  the  prattle 
of  his  children,  and  an  eye  for  the  inter- 
ests of  the  friendless,  and  a  heart  for  the 
sufferines     of    the    destitute'?     Would 
there  not  be  a  feeling  mountmg  almost 
to    veneration,  towards    the  ruler   who 
should  prove  himself  equal  to  the  super- 
intending every  concern  of  an  empire, 
and  who  could  yet  give  a  personal  atten- 
tion to  the  wants  of  many  of  the  poorest 
of  its  families ;  and  who,  whilst  gather- 
ing within  the  compass  of  an  ample  in- 
telligence every  question  of  foreign  and 
home  policy,  protecting  the  commerce, 
maintaining  the  honor,  and  fostering  the 
institutions  of  the  state,  could  minister 
tenderly  at  the  bedside  of  sickness,  and 
hearken  patiently  to  the  tale  of  calamity, 
and  be  as  active  for  the  widow  and  the 
orphan,   as   though  his  whole   business 
were  to  lighten  the  pressure  of  domestic 
affliction  1 

We  can  appeal,  then,  to  your  own 
notions  of  true  greatness,  for  a  refutation 
of  the  common  arguments  against  the 
Providence  of  God.     We  know  not  why 


THE  GREATNESS  AND  CONDESCENSION  OP  GOD. 


141 


that  should  he  derogatory  to  the  majesty 
of  the  Ruler  of  the  universe,  which,  hy 
the  general  confession,  would  add  iin- 
measurahly  to  the  majesty  of  one  of  the 
earth's  potentates.  And  if  we  should 
rise  in  our  admiration  and  applause  of  a 
statesman,  or  sovereign,  in  proportion 
as  he  showed  himself  capable  of  attend- 
ing to  things  comparatively  petty  and 
insignificant,  without  neglecting  the 
grand  and  momentous,  certainly  we  are 
oound  to  apply  the  same  principle  to 
our  Maker — to  own  it,  that  is,  essential 
to  his  greatness,  that,  whilst  marshalling 
planets  and  ordering  the  motions  of  all 
worlds  throughout  the  sweep  of  immen- 
sity, he  should  yet  feed  "  the  young 
ravens  that  call  upon  him,"  and  number 
the  very  hairs  of  our  heads :  essential, 
in  short,  that,  whilst  his  kingdom  is  an 
everlasting  kingdom,  and  his  dominion 
endureth  throughout  all  generations,  he 
should  uphold  all  that  fall,  and  raise  up 
those  that  are  bowed  down. 

We  would  add  to  this,  that  objections 
against  the  doctrine  of  God's  providence 
are  virtually  objections  against  the  great 
truths  of  creation.  Are  we  to  suppose 
that  this  or  that  ephemeral  thing,  the 
tiny  tenant  of  a  leaf  or  a  bubble,  is  too 
insignificant  to  be  observed  by  God ; 
and  that  it  is  absurd  to  think  that  the 
animated  point,  whose  existence  is  a 
second,  occupies  any  portion  of  those 
inspections  which  have  to  spread  them- 
selves over  the  revolutions  of  planets, 
and  the  movements  of  angels  ]  Then  to 
what  authorship  are  we  to  refer  this 
ephemeral  thing  ?  We  subject  it  to  the 
powers  of  the  microscope,  and  are  amaz- 
ed, perhaps,  at  observing  its  exquisite 
symmetries  and  adornmenst,  with  what 
skill  it  has  been  fashioned,  with  what 
glory  it  has  been  clothed  :  but  we^  find 
it  said  that  it  is  dishonoring  to  God  to 
suppose  him  careful  or  observant  of  this 
insect ;  and  then  our  difficulty  is,  who 
made,  who  created  this  insect  ]  I  know 
not  what  there  can  be  too  inconsiderable 
for  the  providence,  if  it  have  not  been 
too  inconsiderable  for  the  creation,  of 
God.  What  it  was  not  unworthy  of 
God  to  form,  it  cannot  be  unworthy  of 
God  to  preserve.  Why  declare  any 
thing  excluded  by  its  insignificance  from 
his  watchfulness,  which  could  not  have 
been  produced  but  by  his  power  ]  Thus 
the  universal  Providence  of  God  is  little 
more  than  an  inference  from  the  truth 


of  his  being  the  universal  Creator.     And 
men  may  s[)eak  of  the  littleness  of  this 
or  that  creatUTC,  and   ask   how  we  can 
believe  that  the  animalcule,  scarce  per- 
ceptible as  it  floats  by  us  on  the  evening 
bieeze,  is    observed    and    cared    for  by 
that  Being,  inaccessible  in  his  sublimity, 
who  "  sitteth  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth, 
and  the  inhabitants  thereof  are  as  grass- 
hoppers :"  but  we  ask  in  reply,  whether 
or  no  it  be  God  who  gave  its  substance 
and  animation  to  this  almost   invisible 
atom  ;  and  unless  they  can  point  out  to 
us  another  creator,  we  shall  hold  that  it 
must  be  every  way  worthy  of  God,  that 
he  should  turn  all  the  watchfulness  of  a 
guardian  on  the  work  of  his  own  hands 
— for  it  cannot  be  more  true,  that,  as  uni- 
versal Creator,  he  has  such  power  that  his 
dominion  endureth  throughout  all  gene- 
rations, than  that,  as  universal  sustainer, 
he  has  such  carefulness  for  whatever  he 
hath  formed,  that  he  upholdeth  them  that 
fall,  raiseth  up  all  that  are  bowed  down. 
But   up  to  this   point,  we  have  been 
rather  engaged  with  removing  objections 
against  the  doctrine  of  God's  providence, 
than  with  examining  that  doctririe,  as  it 
may  be  derived  from  our  text.     In  re- 
gard to  the  doctrine  itself,  it  is  evident 
that  nothing  can  happen  in  any  spot  of 
the  universe  which  is  not  known  to  him 
who    is    emphatically    the    Omniscient. 
But  it  is  far  more  than  the  inspection  of 
an    ever-vigilant   obsen'er   which    God 
throws  over  the  concerns  of  creation. 
It  is  not  merely  that  nothing  can  occur 
without  the  knowledge  of  our  Maker ; 
it  is  that  nothing  can  occur,  but  by  either 
his    appointment  or   permission.       We 
say  either  his  appointment  or  permission 
— for  we  know,  that,  whilst  he  ordereth 
all    things,    both  in    heaven   and    earth, 
there    is  much    which    he  allows    to  be 
done,  but  which  cannot  be  referred  di- 
rectly to  his    authorship.     It  is  in  this 
sense  that  his  Providence  has  to  do  with 
what  is   evil,  overruling  it  so  that  it  be- 
comes  subsei-vient  to  the  march  of  his 
purposes.     The  power  that  is  exerted 
over  the  waters  of  the  ocean,  is  exerted 
also  over  the  more  boisterous  waves  of 
rebellion  and  crime  ;   and  God  saith   to 
the  one,  as  to  the  other,  "  hitherto  shall 
ye   come   and   no  further."     And  as  to 
actions  and  occurrences  of  an  ojiposite 
description,  such  as  are  to  be  reckoneo 
good  and  not  evil — can  it  be  denied  that 
I  Providence  extends  to  all  these,  and  is 


142 


THE  GREATNESS  AND  CONDESCENSION  Ot"  GOD. 


intimately  concerned  with  their  produc- 
tion and  performance  1  It  must  ever  be 
remembered  that  God  is  the  first  cause, 
and  that  upon  the  first  all  secondary  de- 
pend. We  are  apt  to  forget  this  ,  though 
unquestionably  a  self-evident  principle, 
and  then  we  easily  lose  ourselves  in  a 
wide  labyrinth,  and  are  perplexed  by  the 
multiplicities  of  agency  with  whicli  we 
seem  surrounded. 

But  how  beautifully  simple  does  eve- 
ry thing  appear,  when  we  trace  one  hand 
in  all  that  occurs.  And  this  we  are 
bound  to  do,  if  we  would  allow  its  full 
range  to  the  doctrine  of  God's  provi- 
dence. It  is  God  whose  energies  are 
extended  through  earth,  and  sea,  and  air, 
causing  those  unnumbered  and  benefi- 
cial results  which  we  ascribe  to  nature. 
It  is  God  by  whom  all  those  contin- 
gencies which  seem  to  us  fortuitous 
and  casual  are  directed,  so  that  events, 
brought  I'ound  by  what  men  count  ac- 
cident, proceed  from  divine,  and  there- 
fore irreversible  appointment.  It  is 
God  by  whom  the  human  will  is  secretly 
inclined  towards  righteousness  ;  and  thus 
there  is  not  wrought  a  single  action  such 
as  God  can  approve,  to  whose  perform- 
ance God  hath  not  instigated.  It  is 
God  from  whom  come  those  many  inter- 
positions, which  every  one  has  to  remark 
in  the  course  of  a  long  life,  when  dangers 
are  averted,  fears  dispei-sed,  and  sorrows 
removed.  It  is  God,  who,  acting  through 
the  instrumentality  of  various,  and,  to  all 
appearance,  conflicting  causes,  keeps 
together  the  discordant  elements  of  so- 
ciety, and  prevents  the  whole  frame- 
work of  civil  institutions  from  being 
rapidly  dislocated.  It  is  God — but  why 
attempt  to  enumerate  ]  Where  is  the 
creature  which  God  does  not  sustain  ? 
where  is  the  solitude  which  God  does 
not  fill  1  whei-e  is  the  want  which  God 
does  not  supply  1  where  is  the  motion 
which  God  does  not  direct  ?  where  is 
the  action  which  God  does  not  oven-ule  1 
If,  accordiijg  to  the  words  of  the  Psalmist, 
we  could  ascend  up  to  heaven,  and  make 
our  bed  in  hell  ;  if  we  could  take  the 
wings  of  the  morning,  and  dwell  in  the 
uttermost  parts  of  the  sea  :  in  all  this 
enormous  travel,  in  this  journey  across 
the  fields  of  unlimited  space,  we  could 
never  roach  the  loneliest  spot  at  which 
Deity  was  not  present  as  an  upholder 
and  guardian  ;  never  find  the  lonely 
world,    lo,  nor  the  lonely  scene  on  any 


one  of  those  globes  vnth  which  immen- 
sity is  strewed,  which  was  not  as  stricly 
watched  by  the  ever-wakeful  eye  of  Om- 
niscience, as  though  every  where  else 
the  universe  were  a  void  and  this  the 
alone  home  of  life  and  intelligence.  We 
have  an  assurance  which  nothing  can 
shake,  because  derived  from  the  confess- 
ed nature  of  Godhead,  that,  in  all  the 
greatness  of  his  Almightiness,  our  Maker 
is  perpetually  passing  from  star  to  star, 
and  from  system  to  system,  that  he  may 
observe  what  is  needed  by  every  order 
of  being,  and  minister  supply — and  yet 
not  passing  ;  for  he  is  always  present, 
present  as  much  at  one  moment  as  at  an- 
other, and  in  one  world  as  in  another 
immeasurably  distant  ;  and  covering 
with  the  wings  of  his  providence  what- 
ever he  hath  formed,  and  whatever  he 
hath  animated. 

And  if  we  bring  our  thoughts  within 
narrower  compass,  and  confine  them  to 
the  world  appointed  for  men's  dwelling, 
it  is  a  beautiful  truth  that  thei^e  can- 
not be  the  creature  so  insignificant,  the 
care  so  inconsiderable,  the  action  so  unim- 
portant, as  to  be  overlooked  by  liim  from 
whom  we  draw  being.  I  know  that  it  is 
not  the  monarch  alone,  at  the  head  of  his 
tribes  and  provinces,  who  is  observed  by 
the  Almighty  ;  and  that  it  is  not  only  at 
some  gi'eat  crisis  in  life,  that  an  indivi- 
dual becomes  an  object  of  the  attention 
of  his  Maker.  I  know  rather  that  the 
poorest,  the  meanest,  the  most  despised, 
shares  with  the  monarch  the  notice  of  the 
universal  Protector;  and  that  this  notice 
is  so  unwearied  and  incessant,  that  when 
he  goes  to  his  daily  toil  or  his  daily  prayer, 
when  he  lies  down  at  night,  or  rises  in 
the  morning,  or  gathers  his  little  ones  to 
the  scanty  meal,  the  poor  man  is  tendei'- 
ly  watched  by  his  God  ;  and  he  cannot 
weep  the  tear  which  God  sees  not,  noi 
smile  the  smile  which  God  notes  not,  noi 
breathe  the  wish  which  God  hears  not. 
The  man  indeed  of  exalted  rank,  on 
Avhommay  depend  the  movements  of  an 
empire,  is  regarded,  with  a  vigilance 
which  never  knows  suspense,  by  Him 
"  who  giveth  salvation  unto  kings  ;  "  and 
the  Lord,  "  to  whom  belong  the  shields 
of  the  earth,"  bestows  on  this  man  what- 
ever wisdom  he  displays,  and  whatever 
strength  he  puts  foi-th,  and  whatever  suc- 
cess he  attains.  But  the  carefulness  of 
Deity  is  in  no  sense  engrossed  by  the 
distinguished  individual ;  but,  just  a3  the 


THE  GREATNESS  AND  CONDESCENSION  OP  GOD. 


143 


Tcards  which  are  turned  on  this  earth 
inlcilerc  not  with  those  which  pour 
themselves  over  far-off  planets  and  dis- 
tant systems,  so,  whilst  the  chieftain  is 
observed  and  attended  with  the  assidu- 
ousness of  what  might  seem  an  undivi- 
ded guardiaTiship,  the  very  beggar  is  as 
much  the  object  of  divine  inspection  and 
Buccor,  as  though,  in  the  broad  sweep 
of  animated  being,  there  were  no  other 
to  need  the  sustaining  arm  of  the  Creator. 
And  this  is  what  we  understand  by  the 
providence  of  the  Almighty.  We  be- 
lieve of  this  providence  that  it  extends 
itself  to  every  household,  and  throws  it- 
self round  every  individual,  and  takes 
part  in  every  business,  and  is  concerned 
with  every  sorrow,  and  accessory  to 
every  joy.  We  believe  that  it  encir- 
cles equally  the  palace  and  the  cottage  ; 
guiding  and  upholding  alike  the  poor 
and  the  rich  ;  ministering  to  the  king  in 
his  councils,  and  to  the  merchant  in  his 
commerce,  and  to  the  scholar  in  his  study, 
and  to  the  laborer  in  his  husbandry — so 
that,  whatever  my  rank  and  occupation, 
at  no  moment  am  I  withdrawn  from  the 
eye  of  Deity,  in  no  lawful  endeavor  am 
I  left  to  myself,  in  no  secret  anxiety  have 
J  only  my  own  heart  with  which  I  may 
commune.  Oh  !  it  were  to  take  from 
God  all  that  is  most  encouraging  in  his 
attributes  and  prerogatives,  if  you  could 
throw  doubt  on  this  doctrine  of  his  univer- 
sal providence.  It  is  an  august  contem- 
plation, that  of  the  Almighty  as  the  ar- 
chitect of  creation,  filling  the  vast  void 
with  magnificent  structures.  We  are 
presently  confounded  when  bidden  to 
meditate  on  the  eternity  of  the  Most 
High  :  for  it  is  an  overwhelming  truth, 
that  he  who  gave  beginning  to  all  besides 
could  have  had  no  beginniner  himself 
And  there  are  other  characteristics  and 
properties  of  Deity,  whose  very  mention 
excites  awe,  and  on  which  the  best  elo- 
quence is  silence.  But  whilst  the  uni- 
versal providence  of  God  is  to  the  full 
as  incomprehensible  as  aught  else  which 
appertains  to  Divinity,  there  is  nothing 
in  it  but  what  commends  itself  to  the 
warmest  feeling  of  our  nature.  And 
we  seem  to  have  drawn  a  picture  which 
is  calculated  equally  to  raise  astonish- 
ment and  delight,  to  produce  the  deep- 
est reverence  and  yet  fullest  confidence, 
when  we  have  i-epresented  God  as  super- 
intending whatever  occurs  in  his  infinite 
domain — guiding  the  roll  of  every  planet, 


and  the  rush  of  every  cataract,  and  the 
gathering  of  every  cloud,  and  the  motion 
of  every  will — and  when,  in  order  that 
the  delineation  may  have  all  that  cxqiiis- 
iteness  which  is  only  to  be  obtained  from 
those  home  touches  which  assure  us  that 
we  have  ourselves  an  interest  in  what  is  so 
splendid  and  surprising,  we  add,  that  he 
is  with  the  sick  man  on  his  pallet,  and 
with  the  seaman  in  his  danger,  and  with 
the  widow  in  her  agony.  And  what, 
after  all,  is  this  combination  but  that  pre- 
sented by  our  text?  If  I  would  exhibit 
God  as  so  attending  to  what  is  mighty  as 
not  to  overlook  what  is  mean,  what  bet- 
ter can  I  do  than  declare  him  mustering 
around  him  the  vast  army  of  suns  and 
constellations,  and  all  the  while  hearken- 
ing to  every  cry  which  goes  up  from  an 
afilicted  creation — and  is  not  this  the 
very  picture  sketched  by  the  jisalmist, 
when,  after  the  sublime  ascription,  "  thy 
kingdom  is  an  everlasting  kingdom,  and 
thy  dominion  endureth  throughout  all  ge- 
nerations," he  adds  the  comforting  words, 
"  the  Lord  upholdeth  all  that  fall,  and  lift- 
up  all  those  that  be  bowed  down  ? " 

We  have  only  to  add,  that  the  doc- 
trine of  a  particular  and  universal  Pro- 
vidence, on  which  we  have  insisted,  is 
strictly  derivable  from  the  very  nature 
of  God.  We  are  so  accustomed  to  reck- 
on one  thing  great  and  another  small, 
that  when  we  ascend  to  contemplations 
of  Deity,  we  are  apt  to  forget  that  there 
is  not  to  him  that  graduated  scale  which 
there  must  be  to  ourselves.  It  is  to 
bring  down  God  to  the  feebleness  of  our 
own  estate,  to  suppose  that  what  is 
great  to  us  must  be  great  to  him,  and 
that  what  is  small  to  us  must  be  small  to 
him.  I  know  and  am  persuaded,  that 
dwelling  as  God  does  in  inaccessible 
splendors,  a  world  is  to  him  an  atom, 
and  an  atom  is  to  him  a  world.  He  can 
know  nothing  of  the  human  distinctions 
between  great  and  small — so  that  he  is 
dishonored,  not  when  all  things  are 
reckoned  as  alike  subject  to  his  inspec- 
tions, but  when  some  things  are  deemed 
important  enough,  and  others  too  insig- 
nificant, to  come  within  the  notice  of  his 
providence.  If  he  concern  himself  with 
the  fate  of  an  empire,  but  not  with  the 
fall  of  a  sparrow,  he  must  be  a  being 
scarce  removed  from  equality  with  our- 
selves ;  for,  if  he  have  precisely  the 
same  scale  by  which  to  estimate  import- 
ance, the  range  of  his  intelligence  can 


144 


THE  GREATNESS  AND  CONDESCENSION  OF  GOD. 


be  little  wider  than  that  of  our  own. 
God  is  that  mysterious  being,  to  whom 
the  only  great  thing  is  himself.  And, 
therefore,  when  "  the  eyes  of  all  wait 
upon  "  him,  the  seraph  gains  not  atten- 
tion by  his  gaze  of  fire,  and  the  insect 
loses  it  not  through  feebleness  of  vision 
— Archangel,  and  angel,  and  man,  and 
beast,  and  fowl  of  the  air,  and  fish  of  the 
sea,  all  draw  equally  the  regards  of  him, 
who,  counting  nothing  groat  but  himself 
the  Creator,  can  pass  over,  as  small,  no 
fraction  of  the  creature.  It  is  thus  vir- 
tually the  property  of  God,  that  he 
should  care  for  every  thing,  and  sustain 
every  thing ;  so  that  we  should  never 
behold  a  blade  of  grass  springing  up 
from  the  earth,  nor  hear  a  bird  warble 
its  wild  music,  nor  see  an  infant  slum- 
ber on  its  mother's  breast,  without  a 
warm  memory  that  it  is  through  God, 
as  a  God  of  providence,  that  the  fields 
are  enamelled  in  due  season,  that  every 
animated  tribe  receives  its  sustenance, 
and  that  the  successive  generations  of 
mankind  arise,  and  flourish,  and  possess 
the  earth.  And  never  should  we  think 
of  joy  or  sorrow,  of  things  prosperous 
or  adverse,  of  health  or  sickness,  life  or 
death,  without  devoutly  believing  that 
the  times  of  every  man  are  in  the  Al- 
mighty's hands  ;  that  nothing  happens 
but  through  the  ordinance  or  permission 
of  God  ;  and  that  the  very  same  Prov- 
idence which  guides  the  marchings  of 
stars,  and  regulates  the  convulsions  of 
empires,  is  lending  at  the  couch  of  the 
afflicted,  curtaining  the  sleep,  and  watch- 
ing the  toil,  of  the  earth's  remotest 
families. 

We  can  only  desire  and  pray,  in  con- 
clusion, that  this  great  truth  might  es- 
tablish itself  in  all  our  hearts.  Then 
would  all  undue  anxieties  be  dismissed, 
our  plans  be  those  of  jirudence,  our  en- 
ergies be  rightly  directed  and  strenu- 
ously employed,  disappointments  would 
be  avoided,  and  hope  would  never  make 
ashamed  ;  for  we  should  leave  every 
thing,  small  as  well  as  great,  in  the 
hands  of  Him  who  cannot  be  pcrj)lexed 
by  multiplicity,  nor  overpowered  by 
magnitude  ;  and  the  result  would  be 
that  we  should  enjoy  a  serenity,  no  more 
to  be  broken  by  those  little  cares  which 
perpetually  wrinkle  the  surface,  than  by 
those  fierce  storms  which  threaten  the 
complete  shipwreck  f)f  peace. 

And  forasmuch  as  we  have  spoken  of 


Redemption  as  well  as  of  Providence, 
and  are  now  telling  you  of  security  and 
serenity,  suffer  that  we  remind  you  of 
the  simile  by  which  St.  Paul  has  repre- 
sented christian  hope  :  "  Which  hope 
we  have  as  an  anchor  of  the  soul,  both 
sure  and  steadfast,  and  which  entereth 
into  that  within  the  vail."  The  anchor 
is  cast  "  within  the  vail,"  whither  Christ 
the  forerunner  is  gone  before.  -/  .id  if 
hope  be  fixed  upon  Christ,  the  Rock  of 
Ages,  a  rock  rent,  if  we  may  use  the  ex- 
pression, on  purpose  that  there  might  be 
a  holding-place  for  the  anchors  of  a  per- 
ishing world,  it  may  well  come  to  pass 
that  we  enjoy  a  calm,  as  we  journey 
through  life,  and  draw  near  the  grave. 
But  since  "  other  foundation  can  no  man 
lay  than  that  is  laid,"  if  our  anchor  rest 
not  on  this  Rock,  where  is  our  hope, 
where  our  peacefulness  ?  I  know  of  a 
coming  tempest — and  would  to  God  that 
the  younger  part,  more  especially,  of 
this  audience,  might  be  stirred  by  its 
appi'oach  to  repentance  and  righteous- 
ness !  I  know  of  a  coming  tempest, 
with  which  the  Almighty  shall  shake 
terribly  the  earth  ;  the  sea  and  the  waves 
roaring,  and  the  stars  falling  fi'om  the 
heavens.  Then  shall  there  be  a  thou- 
sand shipwrecks,  and  immensity  be 
strewed  with  the  fragments  of  a  strand- 
ed navy.  Then  shall  vessel  upon  ves- 
sel, laden  with  reason,  and  high  intelli- 
gence, and  noble  faculty,  be  drifted  to 
and  fro,  shattered  and  dismantled,  and 
at  last  thrown  on  the  shore  as  fuel  for 
the  burning.  But  there  are  ships  which 
shall  not  founder  in  this  battle  and  dis- 
solution of  the  elements.  There  are 
ships  which  shall  be  in  no  peril  whilst 
this,  the  last  hurricane  which  is  to  sweep 
our  creation,  confounds  earth,  and  sea, 
and  sky;  but  which — when  the  fury  is 
overpast  and  the  light  of  a  morning 
which  is  to  know  no  night,  breaks  glori- 
ously forth — shall  be  found  upon  crystal 
and  tranquil  waters,  resting  beautifully 
on  their  shadows.  These  are  those 
which  have  been  anchored  upon  Christ. 
These  are  those — and  may  none  refuse 
to  join  the  number — who  have  trusted 
themselves  to  the  Mediator,  who  hum- 
bled himself  that  he  might  lift  up  all 
those  that  are  bowed  down  ;  and  who 
have  therefore  interest  in  every  ])rom- 
ise  made  by  Him,  whose  kingdom  is  an 
everlasting  kingdom,  and  whose  domin- 
ion endurclh  throughout  all  generations. 


THE  TERMINATION  OP  THE  MEDIATORIAL  KINGDOM. 


145 


SERMON    II. 


THE  TERMINATION  OF  THE  MEDIATORIAL  KINGDOM. 


*  And  when  all  things  shall  be  subdued  unto  Him,  then  shall  the  Son  also  himself  be  subject  unto  bim  that  put  all 
things  under  him,  that  God  may  be  all  in  all." — 1  Cokinthians,  XV.  28. 


In  our  last  discourse  we  spoke  of  an 
everlasting  kingdom,  and  of  a  dominion 
which  endureth  throughout  all  genera- 
tions. It  will  be  of  a  kingdom  which  must 
terminate,  though  it  appertain  to  a  di- 
vine person,  that  we  shall  have  to  speak 
in  expounding  the  words  of  our  text. 

There  are  two  great  truths  presented 
by  this  verse  and  its  context,  each  de- 
serving attentive  examination — the  one, 
that  Christ  is  now  vested  with  a  kingly 
aujjwjcijty  which  he  must  hereafter  re- 
sign  ;  the  other,  that,  as  a  consequence 
on  this  resignation,  God  himself  will  be- 
come all  in  all  to  the  universe.  We 
pro^ceed  at  once  to  the  consideration  of 
these  truths ;  and  begin  by  observing 
the  importance  of  carefully  distinguish- 
ing between  what  the  Scriptures  affirm 
of  the  attrijputes.  and  what  of  the  .offi- 
c_es,  of  tTTe'p'iSi'sons  in  the  Trinity.  Tn 
regard  of  the  attributes,  you  will  find 
that  the  employed  language  marks  per- 
fect equality  ;  the  Father,  Son,  and  Spir- 
itTTieing  alike  spoken  of  as  Eternal, 
Omniscient,  Omnipotent,  Omnipresent. 
But  in  regard  of  the  offices,  there  can 
be  no  dispute  that  the  language  indicates 
inequality,  and  that  both  the  Son  and 
Spirit  are  represented  as  inferior  to  the 
Father.  This  may  readily  be  accounted 
for  from  the  nature  of  the  plan  of  re- 
demption. This  plan  demanded  that  the 
Son  should  Immblc  himself,  and  assume 
our  nature ;  ancl  that  the  S^rit  should 
condescend  to  be  sent  as  a  xeD,QV§ii"g 
agent ;  whilst  the  Father  was  to  remain 
in  the  sublimity  an^  happiness  of  God- 
head. And  if  such  plan  were  under- 
taken and  carried  through,  it  seems  una- 
voidable, that  in  speaking  of  its  several 


parts,  the  Son  and  the  Spirit  should  be 
occasionally  described  as  inferior  to  the 
Father.  The  offices  being  subordinate, 
the  holders  of  those  offices,  though 
naturally  equal,  must  sometimes  be  ex- 
hibited as  though  one  were  superior  to 
the  others.  At  one  time  they  may  be 
spoken  of  with  reference  to  their  attri- 
butes, and  then  the  language  will  mark 
perfect  equality ;  at  another,  with  re- 
ference to  their  offices,  and  then  it  will 
indicate  a  relative  inferiority. 

And  it  is  only  by  thus  distinguishing 
between  the  attributes  and  the  offices, 
that  we  can  satisfactorily  explain  our  text 
and  its  context.  The  apostle  expressly 
declares  of  Christ,  that  he  is  to  deliver 
up  his  kingdom  to  the  Father,  and  to 
become  himself  subject  to  the  Father. 
And  the  question  naturally  proposes 
itself,  how  are  statements  such  as  these 
to  be  reconciled  with  other  portions  of 
scripture,  which  speak  of  Christ  as  an 
everlasting  King,  and  declare  his  domin- 
ion to  be  that  which  shall  not  be  desti'oy- 
ed  1  There  is  no  difficulty  in  reconciling 
these  apparently  conflicting  assertions, 
if  we  consider  Christ  as  spoken  of  in  the 
one  case  as  God,  in  the  other  as  Media- 
tor. If  we  believe  him  to  be  God,  we 
Kribw  that  he  must  be,  in  the  largest 
sense.  Sovereign  of  the  universe,  and 
that  he  can  no  more  give  up  his  domin- 
ion than  change  his  nature.  And  then 
if  we  regard  him  as  undertaking  the 
office  of  Mediator  between  God  and  man, 
we  must  admit  the  likelihood  that  he 
would  be  invested,  as  holding  this  office, 
with  an  authority  not  necessarily  perma- 
nent, which  would  last  indeed  as  long 
as  the  office,  but  cease  if  there  ever  came 
19 


146 


THE  TERMINATION  OF  THE  MEDIATORIAL  KINGDOM, 


a  period  when  the  office  would  itself  be 
abolished.  So  that  there  is  no  cause 
for  surprise,  nothing  which  should  go 
to  the  persuading  us  that  Christ  is  not 
God,  if  we  find  the  Son  described  as 
Bunendcring  his  kingdom  :  we  have  only 
to  suppose  him  then  spoken  of  as  Media- 
tor, and  to  examine  whether  there  be 
not  a  mediatorial  kingdom,  which,  com- 
mitted to  Christ,  has  at  length  to  be  re- 
signed. 

And  you  cannot  be  acquainted  with 
the  scheme  of  our  Redemjition,  and  not  i 
know  that  the  office  of  Mediator  war- 
rants our  supposing  a  kingdom  which 
will  be  finally  surrendered.  The  grand 
design  of  Redemption  has  all  along  been 
the  exterminating  evil  from  the  universe, 
and  the  restoring  harmony  throughout 
God's  disorganized  empire.  We  know 
that  God  made  every  thing  good,  and 
that  the  creation,  whether  animate  or 
inanimate,  as  it  rose  from  his  hands, 
pi-esented  no  trace  of  imperfection  or 
pollution.  But  evil  mysteriously  gained 
entrance,  and,  originating  in  heaven, 
spread  rapidly  to  earth.  And  hence- 
forwards  it  was  the  main  purpose  of  the 
Almighty  to  counteract  evil,  to  obliterate 
the  stains  from  his  w<;rkmanship,  and  to 
reinstate  and  confirm  the  universe  in  its 
original  purity.  To  effect  this  purpose, 
his  own  Son,  equal  to  himself  in  all  the 
attributes  of  Godhead,  undertook  to  as- 
sume human  nature;  and  to  accomplish, 
in  working  out  the  reconciliation  of  an 
alienated  tribe,  results  which  should  ex- 
tend themselves  to  every  department  of 
creation.  He  was  not  indeed  fuHy  and 
visiblyinvested  with  the  kihgly  office, 
until  after  his  death  and  resurrection  ; 
for  then  it  was  that  lie  cleclared  to  his  dis- 
ciples, "  all  power  is  given  unto  me  in 
heaven  and  earth."  Nevertheless  the  Me- 
diatorial Kingdom  had  commenced  with 
the  commencement  of  human  guilt  and 
misery.  For,  so  soon  as  man  rebelled, 
Cliristinteifcred  on  his  behalf,  and  as- 
BumeTI  tlie  office  of  his  surety  and  deliv- 
erer. He  undertook  the  combat  with 
the  powers  of  evil,  and  fought  his  first 
battle.  And  afterwards  all  God's  inter- 
course with  the  world  was  can-ied  on 
through  the  Mediator — Christ  appeai-intr 
in  human  form  to  patriarchs  and  saints, 
and  superiiitendiug  the  concerns  of  our 
race  with  distinct  reference  to  the  good 
of  his  church. 

But  when,  through  death,  he  had  de- 


stroyed "  him  that  had  the  power  of 
deatii,  "  the  Mediator  became  emphati- 
cjilj^akjiig.  He  "  ascended  up  oti  high, 
and  led  captivit^^cajitiye,"  in  that  very 
nature  in  wnicTTlieTiad"  borne  our  griefs 
and  carried  our  sorrows."  He  sat 
down  at  the  right  hand  of  God  the  very 
person  that  had  been  made  a  curse  for 
us  ;  and  there  was  "  given  him  a  name 
which  is  above  every  name,  that  at  the 
name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should  bow, 
of  things  in  heaven,  and  things  on  earth, 
and  things  under  the  earth."  And  ever 
since  he  hath  been  "  head  over  all  things 
to  the  church  ;"  and  God  has  so  dclega- 
ted  his  power  to  the  Mediator,  that  this 
Mediator  has  "  the  kej^  of  hell  and  of 
death,"  and  so  rules  Tiuinan  affairs  as  to 
make  way  for  a  grand  consummation 
which  creation  yet  expects.  It  is  cer- 
tainly the  representation  of  Scripture, 
that  Christ  has  been  exalted  to  a  throne, 
in  recompense  of  his  humiliation  and 
suffering;  and  that,  seated  on  this  throne, 
he  governs  all  things  in  heaven  and 
earth.  And  we  call  this  throne  the  me- 
diatorial throne,  because  it  was  only  aa 
Mediator  that  Christ  could  be  exalted 
because,  possessing  essentially  all  power 
as  God,  it  could  only  be  as  God-man  that 
he  was  vested  with  dominion.  "  He 
must  reign,"  saith  St.  Paul,  "  until  he 
hath  put  nil  finen^gs  under  his  feet." 
The  great  object  toFwhich  the  kingdom 
has  been  erected,  is,  that  he  who  occu- 
pies the  throne  may  subdue  those  princi- 
palities and  powers  which  have  set  them- 
selves against  the  government  of  God. 
Already  have  vast  advances  been  made  to- 
wards the  subjugation.  But  the  kingdoms 
of  the  world  have  not  yet  become  the 
kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  his  Christ. 
Sin  still  reigns,  and  death  still  reigns,  and 
only  an  inconsiderable  fraction  of  the  hu- 
man population  bow  to  the  sceptre  of  Je- 
sus. But  we  are  taught  to  expect  a  tho- 
rough and  stupendous  chaiige.  We  know 
from  prophecy  that  a  time  apjiroaches 
when  the  whole  world  shall  be  evcingoliz- 
ed  ;  when  there  shall  not  be  the  tnljo,  no, 
nor  the  individual  upon  earth,  wholails  to 
love  and  reverence  the  Mediator.  Christ 
hath  yet  to  set  up  his  kingdom  on  the 
wreck  of  all  human  sovereignty,  and  so 
to  display  himself  that  he  shall  be  uni- 
versally adored  as  "  King  of  kings  and 
Lord  of  lords." 

And  when  this  noble  result  is  brought 
round,  and  the  whole  globe  mantled  with 


THE  TERMINATION  OF  THE  MEDIAT'ORIAL  KINGDOM. 


147 


righteousness,  there  will  yet  remain 
much  to  be  done  ere  the  mediatorial  work 
IS  complete.  The  throne  must  set  for 
judgment ;  the  ena(  tments  of  a  retribu- 
tive economy  take  eflect ;  the  dead  be 
raised,  and  all  men  receive  the  things 
done  in  the  body.  Then  will  evil  be 
finally  expelled  from  the  universe,  and 
G(jd  may  again  look  forth  on  his  unlim- 
ited empire,  and  declare  it  not  defiled 
by  a  solitary  stain.  Then  will  be  "  the 
restitution  of  all  things."  Then  will  it 
be~evid"ent  that  the  power  committed  to 
Christ  has  accomplished  the  great  ends 
for  which  it  was  entrusted,  the  overthrow 
of  Satan,  the  destruction  of  death,  and  the 
extirpation  of  unrighteousness.  And  if 
it  be  the  declaration  of  Scripture  that  the 
Mediator  shall  thus  at  length  master  evil 
under  its  every  form,  and  in  its  every 
consequence,  will  not  this  Mediator  final- 
ly prove  himself  a  king — demonstrating 
not  only  the  possession  of  sovereignty, 
but  the  employment  of  it  to  those  illus- 
trious purposes  which  were  proposed  by 
God  from  the  foundation  of  the  world  1 
Yes,  we  can  say  with  St.  Paul,  "  we  see  not 
yet  all  things  put  under  him."  But  we 
see  enough  to  assure  us  that  "  him  hath 
God  excited  as  a  Prince  and  a  Savior." 
We  see  enough,  and  we  know  enough, 
to  be  persuaded,  that  there  is  kingdom 
\vithin  kingdom  ;  and  that,  whilst  God  is 
still  the  universal  Monarch,  the  Omnipo- 
tent who  "  telleth  the  number  of  the 
stars,"  and  without  whom  not  even  a 
sparrow  falls,  the  Mediator  superintends 
and  regulates  the  affairs  of  his  church, 
and  orders,  with  absolute  sway,  whatever 
respects  the  final  establishment  of  right- 
eousness through  creation.  And  there- 
fore are  we  also  persuaded,  on  the  tes- 
timony which  cannot  deceive,  that  this 
Mediator  shall  reign  till  he  hath  brought 
into  subjection  every  adversary  of  God; 
and  that  at  last — death  itself  being  swal- 
lowed up  in  victory — the  universe,  purg- 
ed from  all  pollution,  and  glowing  with 
a  richer  than  its  pristine  beauty,  shall 
be  the  evidence  that  there  hath  indeed 
been  a  mediatorial  kingdom,  and  that 
nothing  could  withstand  the  Mediator's 
sovereignty. 

Now  it  has  been  our  object,  up  to 
this  point  of  our  discourse,  to  prove  to 
you,  on  scriptural  authority,  that  the 
Mediator  is  a  king,  and  that  Christ,  as 
God-man,  is  invested  with  a  dominion 
not  to  be  confounded  with  that  which 


belongs  to  him  as  God.  You  are  now 
therefore  prepared  for  the  question, 
whether  Christ  have  not  a  kingdom 
which  must  be  ultimately  resigned.  Wo 
think  it  evident  that,  as  Mediator,  Christ 
has  certain  functions  to  discharge,  which,, 
from  their  very  nature,  cannot  be  eter- 
nal. When  the  last  of  God's  elect  fam- 
ily shall  have  been  gathered  in,  there 
will  be  none  to  need  the  blood  of  sprink- 
ling, none  to  require  the  intercession  of 
'*  an  advocate  with  the  Father."  And 
when  the  last  enemy,  which  is  death, 
shall  have  been  destroyed,  that  great 
purpose  of  the  Almighty — the  conquest 
of  Satan,  and  the  extirpation  of  evil, 
will  be  accomplished  ;  so  that  there  will 
be  no  more  battles  for  the  Mediator  to 
fight,  no  more  adversaries  to  subdue.  And 
thus,  if  we  have  rightly  described  the 
mediatorial  kingdom,  there  is  to  come  a 
time  when  it  will  be  no  longer  necessary ; 
when,  every  object  for  which  it  was 
erected  having  been  fully  and  finally  at- 
tained, and  no  possibility  existing  that 
evil  may  re-enter  the  universe,  this  king- 
dom may  be  expected  to  cease. 

And  this  is  the  great  consummation 
which  we  are  taught  by  our  text  and  its 
context  to  expect.  We  may  not  be 
able  to  explain  its  details,  but  the  out- 
lines are  sketched  with  boldness  and 
precision.  There  has  been  committed 
to  Christ  not  as  God,  but  as  God-man,  a 
kingdom  which,  though  small  in  its  be- 
ginning, shall  at  length  supersede  every 
other.  The  designs  proposed  in  the 
erection  of  this  kingdom,  are  the;  salva- 
tion of  man  and  the  glory  of  God,  in  >e 
thorough  extirpation  of  evil  from  tb^ 
universe.  These  designs  will  be  fully 
accomplished  at  the  general  judgment ; 
and  then,  the  ends  for  which  the  king- 
dom was  erected  having  been  answered, 
the  kingdom  itself  is  to  terminate.  Then 
shall  the  Son  of  Man,  having  "  put  down 
all  rule  and  all  authority  and  power," 
lay  aside  the  sceptre  of  majesty,  and 
take  openly  a  place  subordinatg  to  Deity. 
Then  shall  all  that' sovereignty  which, 
for  magnificent  but  temporary  purposes, 
has  been  wielded  by  and  through  the 
humanity  of  Christ,  pass  again  to  the 
Godhead  whence  it  was  derived.  Then 
shall  the  Creator,  acting  no  longer 
through  the  instrumentality  of  a  media- 
tor, assume  visibly,  amid  the  worship- 
pings of  the  whole  intelligent  creation, 
the  dominion  over  his  infinite  and  novf 


118 


THE  TERMINATION  OF  THE  MEDIATORIAL  KINGDOM. 


purified  empire,  and  administer  its  every 
concern  without  the  intervention  of  one 
"  found  in  fashion  as  a  man."  And  then, 
though  as  head  of  his  church,  Christ,  in 
human  nature,  may  always  retain  a 
special  power  over  his  people,  and 
though,  as  essentially  divine,  he  must  at 
all  times  be  equally  the  omnipotent, 
there  will  necessarily  be  such  a  change 
in  the  visible  government  of  the  universe, 
that  the  Son  shall  seem  to  surrender  all 
kingly  authority;  to  descend  from  his 
throne,  having  made  his  enemies  his 
footstool,  and  take  his  station  amongst 
those  who  obey  rather  than  rule ;  and 
thus  shall  be  brought  to  pass  the  saying 
that  is  written,  "  the  Son  also  himself 
shall  be  subject  unto  him  that  put  all 
things  under  him  ;"  and  God,  the  Father, 
Son  and  Holy  Ghost,  ^*  God  shall  hence- 
forwards  be  all  in  all." 

Now  it  is  upon  this  latter  expression, 
indicative  as  it  is  of  what  we  may  call 
the  universal  diffusion  of  Deity,  that  we 
design  to  employ"  the  remainder  of  our 
time.  We  wish  to  examine  into  the 
truths  involved  in  the  assertion,  that  God 
is  to  be  finally  all  in  all.  It  is  an  asser- 
tion which,  the  more  it  is  pondered,  the 
more  august  and  comprehensive  will  it 
appear.  You  may  remember  that  the 
same  expression  is  used  of  Christ  in  the 
Epistle  to  the  Colossians — "  Christ  is 
all  and  in  all."  There  is  no  disagree- 
ment between  the  assertions.  In  the 
Epistle  to  the  Colossians  St.  Paul  speaks 
of  what  takes  place  under  the  mediato- 
rial kingdom ;  whereas  in  that  to  the 
Corinthians,  he  describes  what  will  oc- 
cur when  that  kingdom  shall  have  termi- 
nated. At  present,  whatever  in  the  di- 
vine govenment  has  reference  to  this 
earth  and  its  inhabitants,  is  not  transact- 
ed immediately  by  God,  but  mediately 
through  an  Intercessor,  so  that  Christ  is 
all  in  all.  But  hereafter,  the  mediatorial 
office  finally  ceasing,  the  administration, 
we  are  assured,  will  be  immediately 
with  God,  and  therefiirc  will  God  be  all 
in  all. 

We  learn  then  from  the  expression  in 
question,  however  unable  we  may  be  to 
explain  the  amazing  transition,  that 
there  is  to  be  a  removal  of  the  apparatus 
constructed  for  allowing  us  communi- 
cations with  Godlicad  ;  and  that  we  shall 
not  need  those  offices  of  an  Intercessor, 
without  which  there  could  now  be  no  ac- 
cess to  our  Maker.  There  is  something  ve- 


ry grand  and  animating  in  this  announce- 
ment.  If  we  were  unfallen  creatures, 
we  should  need  no  Mediator.  Wemight, 
as  did  Adam,  approach  at  once  the  Crea- 
tor, and,  though  awed  by  his  majesty, 
have  no  fears  as  to  our  reception,  and  ex- 
perience no  repulse.  And  therefore, 
whilst  we  heartily  thank  God  lor  the 
unspeakable  gift  of  his  Son,  we  cannot 
but  feel,  that,  so  long  as  we  have  no  ac- 
cess to  him  except  through  a  Mediator, 
we  have  not  altogether  recovered  our 
forfeited  privileges.  The  mediatorial 
office,  independently  on  which  we  must 
have  been  everlastingly  outcasts,  is  evi- 
dence, throughout  the  whole  of  its  con- 
tinuance, that  the  human  race  does  not 
yet  occupy  the  place  whence  it  fell. 
But  with  the  termination  of  this  office 
shall  be  the  admission  of  man  into  all  the 
privileges  of  direct  access  to  his  Maker. 
Then  shall  he  see  face  to  face ;  then 
shall  he  know  even  as  also  ho  is  known. 
There  ai-e  yet,  and  there  must  be,  whilst 
God's  dealings  with  humanity  are  car- 
ried on  through  a  Mediator,  separating 
distances  between  our  race  and  the 
Creator,  which  exist  not  in  regard  of 
other  orders  of  being.  But  the  descent 
of  the  Son  from  the  throne,  to  which  he 
was  exalted  in  recompense  of  his  suffer- 
ings, shall  be  the  unfolding  to  man  the 
presence-chamber  in  which  Deity  un- 
veils his  cfl'ulgence.  In  ceasing  to  have 
a  Mediator,  the  last  barrier  is  taken 
down  ;  and  man,  who  had  thrown  him- 
self to  an  unmeasured  distance  from  God, 
passes  into  those  direct  associations  with 
Him  "  that  inhabiteth  eternity,"  which 
can  be  granted  to  none  but  those  who 
never  fell,  or  who,  having  fallen,  have 
been  recovered  from  every  consequence 
of  apostacy. 

And  therefore,  it  is  not  that  we  depre- 
ciate, or  undervalue,  the  blessedness  of 
that  condition  in  which  Christ  is  all  in  all 
to  his  church.  We  cannot  compute  tliis 
blessedness,  and  we  feel  that  the  best 
praises  fall  far  short  of  its  deserts  ;  and 
yet  we  can  believe  of  this  blessedness, 
that  it  is  only  preparatory  to  a  lichcr 
and  a  higher.  Whilst  overwhelmed 
with  the  consciousness  that  I  owe  every 
thing  to  a  Mediator,  I  can  yet  feel  that 
this  Mediator  must  lay  aside  his  office 
as  no  longer  necessary,  ere  I  can  stand 
in  that  relationship  to  Deity,  and  possess 
that  freedom  of  approach,  which  belong 
to  the  loftiest  and  holiest  in  creation. 


THE  TERMINATION  OF  THE  MEDIATORIAL  KINGDOM. 


149 


To  tell  me  that  I  should  need  a  Media- 
tor through  eternity,  were  to  tell  me 
that  I  sliould  be  in  danger  of  death,  and 
at  a  distance  from  God.  And,  therefitre, 
in  informing  me  of  the  extinction  of  that 
sovereignty  by  which  alone  I  can  be  res- 
cued, you  inform  me  of  the  restoration 
of  all  which  Adam  lost,  and  of  the  pla- 
cing humankind  on  equality  with  angels. 
It  is  not  then,  we  a^ain  say,  that  we  are 
insensible  to  benefits,  overpassing  all 
thought,  which  we  derive  from  the  me- 
diatorial kingdom  ;  it  is  only  because  we 
know  that  this  kingdom  is  but  introduc- 
tory to  another,  and  that  the  perfection 
of  happiness  must  require  our  admission 
into  direct  intercourse  with  our  Maker 
— it  is  only  on  these  accounts  that  we 
anticipate  with  delight  the  giving  up  of 
the  kinordom  to  the  Father,  and  associ- 
ate  whatever  is  most  gladdening  and 
glorious  with  the  truth,  that  God,  rather 
than  Christ,  shall  be  all  in  all  through 
eternity. 

But  there  are  other  thoughts  suggested 
by  the  fact,  that  God  himself  shall  be  all 
in   all.     We    have  hitherto    considered 
the  expression  as  simply  denoting  that 
men     will     no    longer     approach     God 
through  a  Mediator,  and  that  their  hap- 
piness will  be  vastly  augmented  by  their 
obtaining  the  privilege  of  direct  access. 
There  is,  however,  no  reason  for  suppos- 
ing that  the  human  race  alone  will  be 
affected  by  the  resignation  of  the  media- 
torial kingdom.     AVe  may  not    believe 
that  it  is  only  over  ourselves  that  Christ 
Jesus  has  been  invested  with  sovereign- 
ty.     It  would  rather  appear,   since  all 
power  has   been   given  him  in  heaven 
and  earth,  that  the  mediatorial  kingdom 
embraces  different  worlds,  and  difl'erent 
orders  of  intelligence  ;  and  that  the  chief 
affairs  of  the  universe  are  administered 
by  Christ  in  his  glorified  humanity.     It 
is  therefore  possible  that  even  unto  an- 
gels the  Godhead  does  not  now  imme- 
diately  manil"est    itself;  but  that    these 
glorious    creatures    are    governed,    like 
ourselves,    through  the  instrumentality 
of  the  Mediator.     Hence  it    will   be  a 
great  transition  to  the  whole  intelligent 
creation,  and  not  merely  to  an  inconsid- 
erable fraction,  when  the  Son  shall  give 
up  the  kingdom  to  the  Father.     It  will 
be  the    visible    enthronement  of  Deity. 
The  Creator  will  come  forth  from  his 
Bublime  solitude,  and  assume  the  sceptre 
of  his  boundless  empire.     It  will  be  a 


new  and  overwhelming  manifestation  of 
Divinity — another  fold  of  the  veil,  wliich 
must  always  hang  between  the  created 
and  the  uncreated,  will  have  been  re- 
moved ;  and  the  thousand  times  ten 
thousand  sj)irits  which  throng  immensity, 
shall  behold  with  a  clear  vision,  and 
know  with  an  ampler  knowledge,  the 
Eternal  One  at  whose  word  they  rose 
into  being. 

And  it  is  not,  we  think,  possible  to  give 
a  finer  description  of  universal  harmony 
and  happiness,  than  is  contained  in  the 
sentence,  "  God  all  in  all,"  when  suppos- 
ed to  have  reference  to  every  rank  in 
creation.     Let  us  consider  for  a  moment 
what  the  sentence  implies.     It  implies 
that  there  shall    be  but  one  mind,  and 
that  the  Divine  mind,  throughout  the  uni- 
verse.   Every  creature  shall  be  so  actuat- 
ed by  Deity,  that  the  Creator  shall  have 
only  to  will,  and  the  whole  mass  of  intel- 
ligent being    will    be  conscious  of  the 
same  wish,  and  the  same  purpose.     It 
is  not  merely  that  every  creature  will  be 
under  the  government  of  the  Creator, 
as  a  subject  is  under  that  of  his  prince. 
It  is  not  merely  that  to  every  command 
of  Deity  there  will  be  yielded  an  instant 
and  cheerful  obedience,  in  every  depart- 
ment, and  by  every  inhabitant  of  the  uni- 
verse.    It  is  more  than  all  this.     It  is 
that  there  shall  be  such  fibres  of  associa- 
tion between  the  Creator  and  the  crea- 
tures— God  shall  be  so  wound  up,  if  the 
expression  be  lawful,  with  all  intelligent 
bein.o- — that  every  other  will  shall  move 
simultaneously  with  tlie  divine,  and  the 
resolve  of  Deity  be  instantly  felt  as  one 
ralcrhty  impulse  pervading  the  vast  ex- 
pansion of  mind.  God  all  in  all — it  is  that 
from  the   highest  order   to  the  lf)west, 
archangel,  and  angel,  and  man,  and  prin- 
cipality, and  power,  there  shall    be  but 
one  desire,  one  object ;  so  that  to  every 
motion  of  the  eternal  Spirit  there  will  be 
a  corresponding  in  each  element  of  the 
intellectual    creation,    as    though    there 
were  throughout  but  one  soul,  one   ani- 
mating, actuating,  energizing  principle. 
God  all  in  all.     I  know  not  how  to  de- 
scribe the  harmony  which  the  expression 
seems  to  indicate.  This  gathering  of  the 
Creator  into  every  creature  ;  this  mak- 
ing each  mind  in  the  world  of  spirit  a 
sort  of  centre  of  Deity,  from  which  flow 
the  high  decisions  of  divine  sovereignty, 
so  that,  in  all  its  amplitude,  the  intellec- 
tual creation  seems  to  witness  that  Gcd 


150 


THE  TERMINATION  OF  THE    MEDIATORIAL  KINGDOM. 


is  equally  every  where,  and  serves  as  one 
grand  instrument  which,  at  every  j)oint 
and  in  every  spring,  is  instinct  with  the 
very  thought  of  Iliin  who  "  ordereth  all 
things  in  heaven  and  earth  " — oh,  this  im- 
measurably transcends  the  mere  reduc- 
tion of  all  systems,  and  all  beings,  into  a 
delighted  and  uniform  obedience.  This 
is  making  God  more  than  the  universal 
Ruler  :  it  is  making  him  the  univci'sal 
Actuator.  And  you  might  tell  me  of 
tribe  ujjon  tribe  of  magnificent  crea- 
tures, waiting  to  execute  the  command- 
ments of  God;  you  might  delineate  the 
very  tenant  of  every  spot  in  immensity, 
bowing  to  one  sceptre,  and  burning  with 
one  desire,  and  living  for  one  end — but  in- 
deed the  most  labored  and  high-wrought 
description  of  the  universal  prevalence  of 
concord,  yields  unspeakably  to  the  sim- 
ple announcement,  that  there  shall  be 
but  one  spirit,  one  pulse,  through  crea- 
tion ;  and  thought  itself  is  distanced, 
when  we  hear,  that  after  the  Son  shall 
have  surrendered  his  kingdom  to  the  Fa- 
ther, God  himself  shall  be  all  in  all  to  the 
universe. 

But  if  the  expression  mark  the  harmo- 
ny, it  marks  also  the  Imppiness  of  eternity. 
It  is  undeniable,  that,  even  whilst  on 
earth,  we  find  things  more  beautiful  and 
precious  in  pi'oportion  as  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  find  God  in  them,  to  view  them 
as  gifts,  and  to  love  them  for  the  sake 
of  the  giver.  It  is  not  the  poet,  nor  the 
naturalist,  who  has  the  richest  enjoyment 
when  surveying  the  landscajie,  or  trac- 
ing the  manifestations  of  creative  power 
and  contrivance.  It  is  the  christian,  who 
recognizes  a  Father's  hand  in  the  glo- 
rious development  of  mountain  and  val- 
ley, and  discovers  the  loving-kindness  of 
an  ever-watcliful  guardian  in  each  exam- 
ple of  the  adaptation  of  the  earth  to  its 
inhabitants.  No  man  has  such  pleasure 
in  any  of  those  objects  which  answer  to 
the  various  affections  of  his  nature,  as  the 
man  who  is  accustomed  to  the  seeing 
God  in  them.  And  then  only  is  the 
creature  loved,  not  merely  with  a  lawful, 
but  with  an  elevated  and  ennobling  love, 
■when  regarded  as  bestowed  on  us  by  the 
Creator,  and  wearing  the  impress  of  the 
benevolence  of  Deity. 

What  will  it  be  when  God  shall  be 
literally  all  in  all  1  It  were  little  to  tell 
us,  that,  admitt(ul  into  the  heavenly  Je- 
rusalem, we  should  worship  in  a  temple 
magnificent    in    architecture,    and    bow 


down  at  a  shrine,  whence  flashed  the  ef- 
fulgence and  issued  the  voice  of  Jeho- 
vah. The  mifrhtv  and  overwhelminn: 
thing  is,  that,  according  to  the  vision  of 
St.  John,  there  shall  bo  no  temple  there  ; 
but  that  so  actually  shall  God  be  all, 
that  Deity  itself  will  be  (jur  sanctuary, 
and  our  adorations  be  rendered  in  the 
sublime  recesses  of  the  Omnipotent  him- 
self. It  were  little  to  assure  us  that  the 
everlasting  dwelling-place  of  the  saints 
shall  be  irradiated  by  luminanes  a  thou- 
sand-fold more  splendid  and  gorgeous 
than  walk  the  finnament  of  a  fallen  crea- 
tion. The  animated  intelligence  is,  that 
theie  shall  be  "  no  need  of  the  sun,  nei- 
ther of  the  moon  ;  "  that  God  shall  be  all, 
and  the  shinings  of  Divinity  light  up  the 
scenery  over  which  we  shall  expatiate. 

And  if  we  think  on  future  intercourse 
Avith  beings  of  our  own  race,  or  of  lof- 
tier ranks,  then  only  are  the  anticipa- 
tions rapturous  and  inspiriting,  when 
Deity  seems  blended  with  every  associ- 
ation. I  know  how  frequently,  when 
death  has  made  an  inroad  on  a  house- 
hold, the  thoughts  of  survivors  follow 
the  buried  one  into  the  invisible  state  ; 
and  with  what  fervency  and  fondness  they 
dwell  on  re-union  in  a  world  where  part- 
ings are  unknown.  And  never  let  a  syl- 
lable be  breathed  which  would  throw 
suspicion  on  a  tenet  commending  itself 
so  exquisitely  to  the  best  sympathies  of 
our  nature,  or  take  away  from  mourners 
tho  consolatory  belief,  that  in  the  land  of 
the  promised  inheritance,  the  parent 
shall  know  the  child  whom  he  followed 
heart-broken  to  the  grave,  and  the  child 
the  parent  who  left  him  in  all  the  lone- 
liness of  orphanage,  and  the  husband 
the  wife,  or  the  wife  the  husband,  whose 
removal  threw  a  l)light  on  all  the  happi- 
ness of  home.  But  how  can  it  come  to 
pass  that  there  will  be  any  thing  like  the 
renewal  of  human  associations,  and  yet 
futui'e  happiness  be  of  that  exalted  and 
unearthly  character,  which  has  nothing 
common  with  the  contracted  feelings 
here  engaged  by  a  solitary  family  1  We 
reply  at  once  that  God  is  to  be  all  in  all. 
The  child  may  be  again  loved  and  cm- 
braced.  But  the  emotions  will  have  none 
of  that  selfishness  into  which  the  purest 
and  deepest  of  our  feelings  may  now  bo 
too  much  resolved  :  it  will  be  God  that 
the  child  loves  in  the  parent,  and  it  will 
be  God  that  the  parent  loves  in  the  child  ; 
and  the  gladness  with  which  the  heart  of 


THE  TERMINATION  OF  THE  MEDIATORIAL  KINGDOM. 


151 


each  swells,  as  they  recognize  one  the 
other  in  the  celestial  city,  will  be  a  glad- 
ness of  which  Deity  is  the  sjiring,  a  glad- 
ness of  which  Deity  is  the  object. 

Thus  shall  it  be  also  in  regard  of  every 
element  which  can  be  supposed  to  enter 
into  future  happiness.  It  is  certain,  that, 
if  God  be  all  in  all,  there  will  be  excited 
in  us  no  wish  which  we  shall  be  required 
to  repress,  none  which  shall  not  be  grat- 
ified so  soon  as  formed.  Having  God  in 
ourselves,  we  shall  have  capacities  of  en- 
joyment immeasurably  larger  than  at  pre- 
sent ;  having  God  in  all  around  us,  we 
shall  find  every  where  material  of  enjoy- 
ment commensui'ate  with  our  amplified 
powers.  Let  us  put  from  us  confused 
and  indeterminate  notions  of  happiness, 
and  the  simple  description,  thatGod  shall 
be  all  in  all,  sets  before  us  the  vcwy  per- 
fection of  felicity.  The  only  sound  de- 
finition of  happiness  is  that  every  faculty 
has  its  proper  object.  And  we  believe" 
of  man,  that  God  endowed  him  with  va- 
rious capacities,  intending  to  be  himself 
their  supply.  Man  indeed  revolted  from 
God,  and  has  ever  since  endeavored, 
though  ever  disappointed,  to  fill  his  ca- 
pacities with  other  objects  than  God. 
But  may  not  God  hereafter,  having  rec- 
tified the  disorders  of  humanity,  be  him- 
self the  object  of  our  every  faculty  ?  I 
know  not  why  we  may  not  suppose 
that  not  only  the  works  of  God, 
which  now  manifest  his  qualities,  but 
the  qualities  themselves,  as  they  sub- 
sist without,  measure  in  the  ever-living 
Creator,  will  become  the  immediate  ob- 
jects of  contemplation.  "  What  an  ob- 
ject," says  Bishop  Butler,  "  is  the  uni- 
verse to  a  creature,  if  there  be  a  creature 
who  can  comprehend  its  system.  But  it 
must  1)0  an  infinitely  higher  exercise  of 
the  understanding,  to  view  the  scheme  of 
it  in  that  mind  which  projected  it,  before 
its  foundations  were  laid.  And  surely 
we  liave  meaning  to  the  words  when  we 
speak  of  going  further,  and  viewing,  not 
only  this  system  in  his  mind,  but  the  very 
wisdom,  intelligence,  and  power  from 
which  it  proceeded."  And  yet  more,  as 
the  pielate  goes  on  to  argue.  Wisdom, 
intelligence,  and  power,  are  not  God, 
though  God  is  an  infinitely  wise  being, 
and  intelligent,  and  powerful.  So  that 
to  contemplate  the  effects  of  wisdom 
must  be  an  inferior  thing  to  the  contem- 
plating wisdom  in  itself — for  the  cause 
must  be  always  a  higher  object  to  the 


mind  than  the  cflfect — and  the  cont^em- 
plating  wisdom  in  itself  must  be  an  in- 
feri(jr  thing  to  the  contemplatinsx  the 
divine  nature  ;  for  wisdom  is  but  an  at- 
tribute of  the  nature,  and  not  the  nature 
itself. 

Thus,  at  present,  we  make  little  or  no 
approach  towards  knowing  (iod  as  he  is, 
because  God  hath  not  yet  made  himself 
all  in  all  to  his  creatures.  But  let  there 
once  come  this  universal  diffusion  of 
Deity,  and  we  may  find  in  God  himself 
the  objects  which  answer  to  our  matured 
and  spiritualized  faculties.  We  profess 
not  to  be  competent  to  the  understand- 
ing the  mysterious  change  which  is  thus 
indicated  as  passing  on  the  universe. 
But  we  can  perceive  it  to  be  a  change 
which  shall  be  full  of  glory,  full  of  hap- 
piness. We  shall  be  as  sensible  of  the 
presence  of  God,  as  we  now  are  of  the 
presence  of  a  friend,  when  he  is  stand- 
ing by  us,  and  conversing  with  us. 
"And  what  will  be  the  joy  of  heart  which 
his  presence  will  inspii-e  good  men  with, 
when  they  shall  have  a  sensation  that  he 
is  the  sustainer  of  their  being,  that  they 
exist  in  him ;  when  they  shall  feel  his 
influence  cheering,  and  enlivening,  and 
supporting  their  frame,  in  a  manner  of 
which  we  have  now  no  conception  1"  Ho 
will  be,  in  a  literal  sense,  their  strength 
and  their  portion  for  ever. 

Thus  we  look  forward  to  the  termina- 
tion of  the  mediatorial  kingdom,  as  the 
event  with  which  stands  associated  our 
reaching  the  summit  of  our  felicity. 
There  is  then  to  be  a  removal  of  all  that 
is  now  intermediate  in  our  communica- 
tions with  Deity,  and  the  substitution  of 
God  himself  for  the  objects  which  he 
has  now  adapted  to  the  giving  us  delight. 
God  himself  will  be  an  object  to  our 
faculties  ;  God  himself  will  be  our  hap- 
piness. And  as  we  travel  from  one  spcjt 
to  another  of  the  universe,  and  enter 
into  companionship  with  different  sec- 
tions of  its  7-ejoicing  population,  every 
where  we  shall  carry  Deity  with  us, 
and  every  where  find  Deity — not  as 
now,  when  faith  must  all  along  do  battle 
with  sense,  but  in  manifestations  so  im- 
mediate, so  direct,  so  adapted  to  our 
faculties  of  perception,  that  we  shall 
literally  see  God,  and  be  in  contact  with 
God  ;  and  oh,  then,  if  thought  recur  to 
the  days  of  probation,  when  all  that  con- 
cerns us  was  administered  through  a 
Mediator,  we  shall  leel  that  whatever  is 


152 


THE  ADVANTAGES  RESULTING  FROM 


most  illustrious  in  dignity,  whatever 
mosti'apturous  in  enjoyment,  was  prom- 
ised in  the  prophetic  announcement, 
that,  when  the  Son  shall  have  delivered 
up  the  kingdom  to  the  Father,  God 
himself  shall  be  all  in  all. 

We  can  only  add  that  it  becomes  us 
to  examine  whether  we  are  now  subjects 
of  tlip  mediatorial  kingdom,  or  whether 
wo  are  of  those  who  will  not  that  Christ 
should  reign  over  them.  If  God  is 
hereafter  to  be  all  in  all,  it  behovea  us 
to  inquire  what  he  is  to  us  now  1  Can 
we  say  with  the  Psalmist,  "  whom  have 
I  in  heaven  but  thee,  and  there  is  none 
upon  earth  that  I  desire  in  comj)arison 
of  thee  V  How  vain  must  be  our  hope 
of  entering  into  heaven,  if  we  have  no 
present  delight  in  what  are  said  to  be 
its  joys.  A  christian  finds  his  happiness 
in  holiness.  And  therefore,  when  he 
looks  forward  to  heaven,  it  is  the  holi- 
ness of  the  scene,  and  association,  on 
which  he  fastens  as  affording  the  happi- 
ness. He  is  not  in  love  with  an  Arca- 
dian paradise,  with  the  green  pastures, 
and  the  flowing  waters,  and  the  minstrel- 
sy of  many  harpers.  He  is  not  dream- 
ing of  a  bright  island,  where  he  shall 


meet  buried  kinsfolk,  and  renewing  do- 
mestic charities,  live  human  life  again  in 
all  but  its  cares,  and  tears,  and  partings. 
"  Be  ye  holy,  for  I  am  holy  " — this  is 
the  precept,  attempted  conformity  to 
which  is  the  business  of  a  christian's  life, 
perfect  conformity  to  which  shall  be  the 
blessedness  of  heaven.  Let  us  there- 
fore take  heed  that  we  deceive  not  our- 
selves. The  apostle  speaks  of  "  tasting 
the  powers  of  the  world  to  come,"  as 
though  heaven  were  to  begin  on  this 
side  the  grave.  We  may  be  enamored 
of  heaven,  because  we  think  that  "  there 
the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  the 
weary  are  at  rest."  We  may  be  en- 
chanted with  the  poetry  of  its  descrip- 
tions, and  fascinated  by  the  brilliancy  of 
its  colorings,  as  the  Evangelist  John  re- 
lates his  visions,  and  sketches  the  scene- 
ry on  which  he  was  privileged  to  gaze. 
Bnt  all  this  does  not  prove  us  on  the  high 
road  to  heaven.  Again  we  say,  that,  if 
it  be  heaven  towards  which  we  journey, 
it  will  be  holiness  in  which  we  delight : 
for  if  we  cannot  now  rejoice  in  having 
God  for  our  portion,  where  is  our  meet- 
ness  for  a  world  in  which  God  is  to  be 
all  in  all  for  ever  and  for  ever  ] 


SERMON    III. 


THE  ADVANTAGES  RESULTING  FROM  THE  POSSESSION 
OF  THE  SCRIPTURES* 


"  What  advantage  tlicn  hath  tlic  Jew  ?  or  what  profit  is  there  of  circumcision  ?     Much  every  way;  chiefly  bccauw 
that  unto  them  wgre  committed  the  oracles  of  God." — Romans  ui.  1,  2. 


We  think  it  unnecessary  either  to  ex- 
amine the  general  argument  with  which 
St.  Paul  was  engaged  when  he  penned 
these  words,  or  to  interpret  the  passage 


•  A  collection  was  msido  after  this  Sermon  in 
tapport  of  tl(3  01(1  Charity  Schools. 


with  reference  to  the  Jew  rather  than  to 
ourselves.  It  is  quite  evident  that  the 
force  of  the  verses  is  independent  on  the 
general  argument,  and  must  have  been 
increased  rather  than  diminished,  as  ad- 
ditions were  made  to  the  amount  of 
Revelation.      It    was    objected   to    the 


THE  POSSESSION  OP  THE  SCRIPTURES. 


153 


apostle  that  he  represented  Jew  and 
Gentile  as  all  along  on  the  same  level ; 
but  he  felt  that  the  objection  was  re- 
moved by  reminding  his  opponent  that 
the  Jew  had,  and  the  Gentile  had  not, 
the  sacred  Scriptures.  He  reckoned  it 
sufficient  proof  that  an  unmeasured  ad- 
vantage had  lain  with  the  chosen  pcoj)le, 
that  "  unto  them  had  been  committed 
the  oracles  of  God." 

This  is  a  high  testimony  to  the  worth 
of  the  Bible,  and  deserves  to  be  exam- 
ined with  the  greatest  attention.  Of 
course,  if  the  possession  of  but  a  few 
inspired  writings  gave  the  Jew  a  vast 
superiority  over  the  Gentile,  the  posses- 
sion of  a  volume,  containing  the  whole  of 
revelation,  must  be  attended  with  yet 
greater  privileges.  It  should,  howevei', 
be  observed,  that  the  apostle  seems  to 
refer  to  more  than  the  mere  possession 
of  the  Bible;  the  expression  which  he 
employs  marks  out  the  Jews  as  the  de- 
positoiy  of  revelation.  "  Chiefly  be- 
cause that  unto  them  were  committed, 
or  intrusted,  the  oracles  of  God."  There 
may  be  here  an  intimation,  that  those 
who  have  the  Bible  are  to  be  I'egarded  as 
stewards,  just  as  are  those  who  have 
large  earthly  possessions.  If  this  be  cor- 
rect, there  are  two  points  of  view  under 
which  it  will  be  our  business  to  endeavor 
to  set  before  you  the  advantageousness 
of  possessing  God's  oracles.  We  must 
show  that  the  Bible  is  profitable  to  a 
nation,  in  the  first  place,  because  that 
nation  may  be  improved  by  its  contents  ; 
in  the  second  place,  because  that  nation 
may  impart  them  to  others. 

Now  it  may  appear  so  trite  and  ac- 
knowledged a  truth,  that  a  people  is 
advantaged  by  possessing  the  Bible, 
that  it  were  but  wasting  time  to  spend 
much  on  its  exhibition.  We  are  not, 
however,  prepared  to  admit  that  the 
worth  of  the  Bible  is  generally  allowed, 
or  adequately  estimated ;  so  that,  even 
before  such  an  audience  as  the  present, 
we  would  enlarge  on  the  advantages 
which  result  to  a  nation  from  possessing 
God's  oracles. 

We  take  at  first  the  lowest  ground ; 
for  many  who  acknowledge  gratefully 
the  worth  of  Holy  Writ,  when  man  is 
viewed  relatively  to  an  after  state  of 
being,  seem  little  conscious  of  the  bless- 
ings derived  from  it,  when  he  is  regard- 
ed merely  in  reference  to  this  earth.  It 
were  no  over-bold  opinion,  that,  if  the 


Bible  were  not  the  word  of  God,  and 
could  be  proved  to  be  not  the  word  of 
God,  it  w(juid  nevertheless  be  the  most 
precious  of  books,  and  do  immcasuraV)ly 
more  for  a  land,  than  the  finest  produc- 
tions of  literature  and  philosophy.  We 
always  recur  with  great  delight  to  the 
testimony  of  a  deist,  who,  after  ])ublicly 
laboring  to  disprove  Christianity,  and  to 
bring  Scriptuie  into  contempt  as  a  for- 
gery, was  found  instructing  his  child  from 
the  pages  of  the  New  Testament.  When 
taxed  with  the  flagrant  inconsistency, 
his  only  reply  was,  that  it  was  ne- 
cessary to  teach  the  child  morality, 
and  that  nowhere  was  there  to  be  found 
such  morality  as  in  the  Bible.  We 
thank  the  deist  for  the  confession. 
Whatever  our  scorn  of  a  man  who  could 
be  guilty  of  so  foul  a  dishonesty,  seek- 
ing to  sweep  from  the  earth  a  volume 
to  which,  all  the  while,  himself  recurred 
for  the  pi'inciples  of  education,  we  thank 
him  for  his  testimony,  that  the  morality 
of  Scripture  is  a  morality  not  elsewhere 
to  be  found  ;  so  that,  if  there  were  no 
Bible,  there  would  be  comj^aratively  no 
source  of  instruction  in  duties  and  viilue, 
whose  neglect  and  decline  would  dislo- 
cate the  happiness  of  human  society. 
The  deist  was  right.  Deny  or  disprove 
the  divine  origin  of  Scripture,  and  never- 
theless you  must  keep  the  volume  as  a 
kind  of  text-book  of  morality,  if  indeed 
you  would  not  wish  the  banishment  from 
our  homes  of  all  that  is  lovely  and  sacred, 
and  the  breaking  up,  through  the  lawless- 
ness of  ungovernable  passions,  of  the 
quiet  and  the  beauty  which  are  yet  round 
our  families. 

It  is  a  mighty  benefit,  invariably  pro- 
duced where  the  Bible  makes  way — the 
heightened  tone  of  morals,  and  the  in- 
troduction of  principles  essential  to  the 
stabilty  of  government,  and  the  well- 
being  of  households.  We  admit  indeed 
that  this  benefit  could  be  but  partially 
wrought,  if  the  Bible  were  received  as 
only  a  human  composition.  We  do  not 
exactly  see  how  the  deist  was  to  enforce 
on  his  child  the  practice  of  what  Scripture 
enjoined,  if  he  denied  to  that  Scripture 
the  authority  drawn  from  tlie  being  God's 
word.  Yet  it  is  not  to  be  doubted,  that 
even  where  there  is  but  little  regard  to 
the  divine  origin  of  the  Bible,  the  book 
wields  no  inconsiderable  sway  ;  so  that 
numbers,  who  care  nothing  for  it  as  a 
revelation  from  God,  are  unconsciously 
20 


154 


THE  ADVANTAGES  RESULTING  FROM 


influenced  by  il  in  every  department 
of"  conduct.  The  deist,  though  he  re- 
ject revehitlon,  and  treat  it  as  a  fable, 
is  not  what  he  would  have  been,  had 
there  been  no  revelation.  As  a  member 
of  society,  he  has  been  fashioned  and 
cast  into  the  mould  of  the  Bible,  how- 
ever vehement  in  his  wish  to  exterminate 
the  Bible.  It  is  because  the  Bible  has 
gained  footing  in  the  land  where  he 
dwells,  and  drawn  a  new  boundary-line 
between  what  is  base  and  what  honor- 
able, what  unworthy  of  rational  beings 
and  what  excellent  and  of  good  report, 
that  he  has  learned  to  prize  virtues  and 
shun  vices  which  respectively  promote 
and  impede  the  happiness  of  families 
and  the  greatness  of  communities.  He 
is  therefore  the  ungracious  spectacle  of 
a  being  elevated  by  that  which  he  de- 
rides, ennobled  by  that  on  which  he 
throws  ridicule,  and  indebted  for  all  on 
which  he  prides  himself  to  that  which 
he  pronounces  unworthy  his  regai'd. 

And  if  it  be  thus  certain — certain  on 
the  confession  of  its  enemies — that  a 
pure  and  high  morality  is  to  be  gather- 
ed only  from  the  pages  of  the  Bible, 
what  an  advantage  is  there  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  Scriptures,  even  if  death  were 
the  termination  of  human  existence. 
Take  away  the  Bible  from  a  nation,  so 
that  there  should  no  longer  be  the  ex- 
hibition and  inculcation  of  its  precepts, 
and  there  would  be  a  gradual,  yea,  and 
a  rapid,  introduction  of  false  principles 
and  sj)urious  theories,  which  would  pave 
the  way  for  a  total  degeneracy  of  man- 
ners. You.  would  quickly  find  that  hon- 
esty and  integrity  were  not  held  in  their 
former  repute,  but  had  given  place  to 
fraud  and  extortion  ;  that  there  was  an 
universal  setting  up  of  an  idol  of  selfish- 
ness, before  which  all  that  is  generous, 
and  disinterested,  and  philanthropic, 
would  be  forced  to  dohomage  ;  that  there 
was  attached  little  or  none  of  that  sacred- 
ness  to  domestic  relationshijis  which  had 
heretofore  been  the  chief  charm  of  fam- 
ilies ;  and  that  there  was  departing  from 
our  institutions  all  that  is  glorious  in  lib- 
erty, and  from  our  firesides  all  that  gives 
them  their  attractiveness.  Whatever 
had  been  introduced  and  matured  by  the 
operations  of  Christianity,  would,  in  pro- 
cess of  time,  decay  and  disappear,  were 
those  operations  suspended  ;  and  since 
we  can  confidently  trace  to  the  inducMJces 
of  true  religion,  our  advancement  in  all 


that  concerns  the  public  security,  and  the 
private  tranquillity  ;  we  can  with  equal 
confidence  affirm  our  speedy  relapse,  it 
these  influences  were  suddenly  with- 
drawn. And  therefore  do  we  feel  that 
wo  give  no  exaggerated  statement,  when 
we  describe  the  possession  of  the  Bible 
as  the  possession  of  a  talisman,  by 
which  the  worst  forms  of  evil  are  avert- 
ed from  a  land,  and  the  best  and  purest 
blessings  shrined  in  its  households. 

We  are  never  afraid  to  ascribe  to  the 
prevalence  of  true  religion,  that  unmea- 
sured superiority  in  all  the  dignities  and 
decencies  of  life,  which  distinguish  a 
christian  nation  as  compared  with  a  hea- 
then. AVe  ascribe  it  to  nothing  but  ac- 
quaintance with  the  revealed  will  of  God, 
that  those  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  which 
bow  at  the  name  of  Jesus,  have  vastly 
outstripped  in  civilization  every  other, 
whether  ancient  or  modern,  which  may 
be  designated  pagan  and  idolatrous.  If 
you  search  for  the  full  developement  of 
the  princijiles  of  civil  liberty,  for  the  se- 
curity of  property,  for  an  evenhanded 
justice,  for  the  rebuke  of  gross  vices,  for 
the  cultivation  of  social  virtues,  and  for 
the  diffusion  of  a  generous  care  of  the 
suffering,  you  must  turn  to  lands  wliero 
the  c7"oss  has  been  erected — as  though 
Christianity  were  identified  with  what  is 
fine  in  policy,  lofty  in  morals,  and  per- 
manent in  greatness.  Yea,  as  though 
the  Bible  were  a  mighty  volume,  contain- 
ing whatever  is  requisite  for  correcting 
the  disorders  of  states  and  cementing  the 
happiness  of  families,  you  find  that  the 
causing  it  to  be  received  and  read  by  a 
people,  is  tantamount  to  the  producing  a 
thorough  revolution — a  revolution  in- 
cluding equally  the  palace  and  the  cot- 
tage— so  that  every  rank  in  society,  as 
though  there  had  been  waved  over  it  the 
wand  of  the  magician,  is  mysteriously 
elevated,  and  furnished  with  new  ele- 
ments of  dignity  and  comfort.  Who 
then  will  refuse  to  confess,  that,  even  if 
regard  were  had  to  nothing  beyond  the 
present  narrow  scene,  there  is  no  gift 
comparable  to  that  of  the  Bible  ;  and 
that  consequently,  though  a  nation  might 
throw  away,  as  did  tlic  Jewish,  the 
greatest  of  their  privileges,  and  fail  to 
grasp  the  immortality  set  before  them  in 
tlie  revelation  intrusted  to  their  keeping, 
there  would  yet  be  proof  enough  of  their 
having  possessed  a  vast  advantage  over 
others,  in  the  fact  adduced  by  iSt.  Paul 


THE  POSSESSION  OP  THE  SCRIPTURES. 


155 


ii:  onr  text,  that  "  unto  them  natl  been 
committed  the  oracles  of  God  1  " 

We  would  further  observe  that  we 
Btand  indebted  to  the  Bible  for  much  of 
intellectual  as  well  as  moral  advantage. 
Indeed  the  two  go  together.  Where 
there  is  great  moral,  there  will  commonly 
be  gieat  mental  degradation  ;  and  the  in- 
tellect has  no  fair  play,  whilst  the  man  is 
under  the  dominion  of  vice.  It  is  cer- 
tainly to  be  observed,  that,  in  becoming 
a  religious  man,  an  individual  seems  to 
gain  a  wider  comprehension,  and  a  sound- 
er judgment ;  as  though,  in  turning  to 
God,  he  had  sprung  to  a  higher  grade  in 
intelligence.  It  would  mark  a  weak,  or 
at  least  an  uninformed  mind,  to  look  with 
contempt  on  the  Bible,  as  though  beneath 
the  notice  of  a  man  of  high  power  and 
pursuit.  He  who  is  not  spiritually,  will 
be  iutellectually  benefited  by  the  study 
of  Scripture  ;  and  we  would  match  the 
sacred  volume  against  every  other,  when 
the  object  proposed  in  the  perusal  is  the 
strengthening  the  understanding  by  con- 
tact with  lofty  truth,  or  refining  the  taste 
by  acquaintance  with  exquiste  beauty. 
And  of  course  the  intellectual  benefit  is 
greatly  heightened,  if  accompanied  by  a 
spiritual.  Man  becomes  in  the  largest 
sense  "  a  new  creature,"  when  you  once 
waken  the  dormant  immortality.  It  is 
not  of  course,  that  there  is  communicat- 
ed any  fresh  set  of  mental  powers  ;  but 
there  is  removed  all  that  weight  and  op- 
pression which  ignorance  and  vicious- 
ness  lay  upon  the  brain.  And  what  is 
ti-ue  of  an  individual  is  true,  in  its  de- 
gree, of  a  nation  ;  the  diffusion  of  chris- 
tian knowledge  being  always  attended 
by  diffusion  of  correct  views  in  other  de- 
partments of  truth,  so  that,  in  proportion 
as  a  peasanti-y  is  christianized,  you  will 
find  it  more  inquiring  and  intelligent. 

And  there  is  no  cause  for  surpi'ise  in 
the  fact,  that  intellectual  benefits  are  con- 
ferred by  the  Bible.  It  is  to  be  remem- 
bered that  we  arc  indebted  to  the  Bible 
for  all  our  knowledge  of  the  early  history 
of  the  world,  of  the  creation  of  man,  and 
of  his  first  condition  and  actions.  Re- 
move the  Bible,  and  we  are  left  to  con- 
jecture and  fable,  and  to  that  enfeebling 
of  the  understanding  which  error  almost 
necessarily  produces.  Having  no  au- 
thentic account  of  the  origin  of  all  things, 
we  should  bewilder  ourselves  with  theo- 
ries which  would  hamper  our  every  in- 
quiry ;  and  the  mind,  perplexed  and  baf- 


fled at  the  outset,  would  never  expand 
freely  in  its  after  investigations.  Wo 
should  have  confused  apprehensions  ot 
seme  unknown  powers  on  which  we  de- 
pended, peopling  the  heavens  with  va- 
rious deities,  and  subjecting  ourselves  to 
the  tyrannies  of  superstition.  And  it  is 
scarcely  to  be  disputed,  that  there  is,  in 
every  respect,  a  debasing  tendency  in 
superstition  ;  and  that,  if  we  imagined  the 
universe  around  us  full  of  rival  and  an- 
tagonist gods,  in  place  of  knowing  it  un- 
der the  dominion  of  one  mighty  First 
Cause,  we  should  enter  at  a  vast  disad- 
vantage on  the  scrutiny  of  the  wonders 
by  which  we  are  surrounded  ;  the  intel- 
lect being  clouded  by  the  mists  of  moral 
darkness,  and  all  nature  overcast  through 
want  of  knowledge  of  its  author. 

The  astronomer  may  have  been  guid- 
ed, however  unconsciously,  by  the  Bible, 
as  he  has  pushed  his  discoveries  across 
the  broad  fields  of  space.  Why  ia 
it  that  the  chief  secrets  of  nature  have 
been  penetrated  only  in  christian  times 
and  in  christian  lands ;  and  that  men, 
whose  names  are  first  in  the  roll  on 
which  science  emblazons  her  achieve- 
ments, have  been  men  on  whom  fell  the 
rich  light  of  revelation  1  We  pretend 
not  to  say  that  it  was  revelation  which 
directly  taught  them  how  to  trace  the 
motions  of  stars,  and  laid  open  to  their 
gaze  mysteries  which  had  heretofore  baf- 
fled man's  sagacity.  But  we  believe, 
that,  just  because  their  lot  was  cast  in 
days,  and  in  scenes,  when  and  where  the 
Bible  had  been  received  as  God's  word, 
their  intellect  had  freer  play  than  it 
would  otherwise  have  had,  and  their 
mind  went  to  its  work  with  greater  vig- 
or, and  less  impediment.  We  believe 
that  he  who  sets  himself  to  investigate 
the  revolutions  of  planets,  knowing  tho- 
roughly beforehand  who  made  those  plan- 
ets and  governs  their  motions,  would  be 
incalculably  more  likely  to  reach  some 
great  discovery,  than  another  who  starts 
in  utter  ignorance  of  the  truths  of  crea- 
tion, and  ascribes  the  planets  to  chance, 
or  some  unintelligible  agency.  And  it  is 
nothing  against  this  opinion,  that  some 
who  have  been  eminent  by  scientific  dis- 
coveries, have  been  notorious  for  rejec- 
tion of  Christianity  and  opposition  to  the 
Bible.  Let  them  have  been  even  athe- 
ists — they  have  been  atheists,  not  in  a 
land  of  atheists,  but  in  a  land  of  wor- 
shippers of  the  one  true  God ;  and  our 


15G 


THE  ADVANTAGES  RESULTING  FROM 


conviction  is,  that,  had  they  been  atheists 
in  a  land  of  atheists,  tliey  would  never 
have  S(^  signalized  themselves  hy  scien- 
tific discovery.  It  has  been  through  liv- 
ing, as  it  were,  in  an  atmosphere  of"  truth, 
iiowever  they  themselves  have  imbibed 
error,  that  they  have  gained  that  elasti- 
city of  powers  which  has  enabled  them 
to  rise  into  unexplored  regions.  They 
have  not  been  ignorant  of  the  truths  of 
the  Bible,  however  they  may  have  re- 
pudiated the  Bible  ;  and  these  trutlis 
have  told  on  all  their  faculties,  freeing 
them  from  trammels,  and  invigorating 
them  for  labor  ;  so  that  very  possibly  the 
eminence  which  they  have  reached,  and 
whore  they  rest  with  so  much  pride, 
would  have  been  as  inaccessible  to  them- 
selves as  to  the  gifted  inquirers  of  hea- 
then times,  had  not  the  despised  Gos- 
pel pioneered  the  way,  and  the  rejected 
Scriptures  unfettered  their  understand- 
ings. 

We  are  thus  to  the  full  as  persuaded 
of  the  intellectual,  as  of  the  moral  bene- 
fits produced  by  the  Bible.  We  reck- 
on, lliat,  in  giving  the  inspired  volume 
to  a  nation,  you  give  it  that  which  shall 
cause  its  mental  powers  to  expand,  as 
well  as  that  which  shall  rectify  existing 
disorders.  And  if  you  would  account 
f<jr  the  superiority  of  christian  over  hea- 
then lands  in  what  is  intellectually  great, 
in  pliilosophy,  and  science,  and  the  stretch 
a«"d  the  grasp  of  knowledge,  you  may 
find  the  producing  causes  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  Scriptures — yea,  and  men 
may  come  with  all  the  bravery  of  a 
boastful  erudition,  and  demand  admira- 
tion of  the  might  of  the  human  mind,  as 
it  seems  to  subjugate  the  universe,  count- 
ing the  heavenly  hosts,  and  tracking 
comets  as  they  sweep  along  where  the 
eye  cannot  follow  ;  but  so  well  assuied 
am  we  tliat  it  was  revelation  alone  whose 
beams  warmed  what  was  dwarfish  till  it 
B[)raiig  into  this  vigor,  that  we  explain 
the  greater  mental  strength  which  a  na- 
tion may  display,  on  the  principle  "  chief- 
ly tluit  unto  them  have  been  committed 
the  oracles  of  God." 

But  if  we  can  thus  make  good  the  ad- 
vantageousness'assertcd  in  our  text,  when 
the  reference  is  exclusively  to  the  present 
scene  of  being,  we  sliall  have  but  little 
difliculty  when  we  take  higher  ground. 
Is  it  nothing  that  a  people  ni!iy  ])iit  from 
them  the  offer  of  immortality,  and  tli:ts 
bring  upon  themselves  at  last  a  heavier 


condemnation,  than  could  have  overtaken 
them,  had  they  never  heard  the  Gospel. 
It  would  be  for  the  final  advantage  of 
the  individual  who  dies  in  impenitence 
and  infidelity,  that  his  spirit  sliouUi  ])er- 
ish  like  that  of  the  brutes  ;  but  it  will  not, 
on  this  account,  be  c(mtended  that  there 
was  no  blessinor  in  his  beiufj  born  a  man. 
In  like  manner,  it  cannot  be  argued,  that 
there  has  been  nothing  profitable  in  the 
possession  of  the  Scriptures,  because  the 
gift  has  been  abused  or  neglected.  We 
can  say  to  those  who  as  yet  have  drawn 
no  spiritual  benefit  from  the  Bible,  the 
opportunity  is  not  gone  ;  the  Scriptures 
may  still  be  searched,  and  life-giving  doc- 
trines derived  from  their  statements. 
And  is  this  no  advantage  1  Is  it  no  ad- 
vantage, that  salvation  is  brought  within 
reach  ;  and  does  it  nullify  the  advantage 
that  men  will  not  stretch  forth  the  hand 
to  lay  hold  ] 

And  even  if  the  mass  of  a  nation,  pri- 
vileged with  the  Bible,  have  their  jjor- 
tion  at  last  with  the  unbelieving,  it  must 
not  be  forgotten,  that  there  is  in  every 
age  a  remnant  who  trust  in  the  Savior 
whom  that  Bible  reveals.  The  ble.ssings 
which  result  from  the  possession  of  the 
Scriptures  are  not  to  be  computed  from 
what  appears  on  the  surface  of  society. 
There  is  a  quiet  under-current  of  happi- 
ness, which  is  generally  unobserved,  l)ut 
which  greatly  swells  the  amount  of  good 
to  be  traced  to  the  Bible.  You  must  go 
into  families,  and  see  how  burdens  are 
lightened,  and  aflhctions  mitigated,  by 
the  promises  of  holy  writ.  You  must 
follow  men  into  their  retirements,  and 
learn  how  they  gather  strength,  from  the 
study  of  the  sacred  volume,  for  discharg- 
ing the  various  duties  of  life.  You  must 
be  with  them  in  their  struggles  with 
poverty,  and  observe  how  contentment 
is  cngendeied  by  the  prospect  of  riches 
which  cnnnot  fade  away.  You  must  be 
with  them  on  their  death-beds,  and  mark 
how  the  gloom  of  the  opening  grave  is 
scattered  by  a  hope  whicli  is  "  full  of  im- 
mortality." And  you  must  be  with 
them — if  indeed  the  spirit  could  be  ac- 
companied in  its  heavenward  flight — as 
they  enter  the  Divine  presence,  and 
prove,  by  taking  possession  of  the  inher- 
itance which  the  Bible  offers  to  believers, 
that  they  "  have  not  followed  cunningly 
devised  fables."  The  sum  of  hapj)iness 
conferred  by  revelation  can  never  be 
known  until  God  shall  have  laid  open  all 


THE  POSSESSION  OP  THE  SCRIPTURES. 


157 


Becrets  at  the  judgment.  "We  must  have 
access  to  the  history  of  every  individual, 
from  his  childhood  uj)  to  his  entering  his 
everlasting  rest,  ere  we  have  the  elements 
from  which  to  compute  what  Christianity 
hath  done  for  those  who  receive  it  into 
the  heart.  And  if  hut  one  or  two  were 
gathered  out  from  a  people,  as  a  result 
of  conveying  to  that  people  the  records 
of  revelation,  there  would  be,  we  may 
not  doubt,  such  an  amount  of  conferred 
benefit  as  would  sufficiently  prove  the 
advantageousness  of  possessing  the  ora- 
cles of  God. 

It  shall  not  be  in  vain  that  God  hath 
sent  the  Bible  to  a  nation,  and  caused 
the  truths  of  Christianity  to  be  published 
within  its  borders.  There  may  be  what 
approximates  to  a  general  disregard  of 
the  Scriptures,  and  an  universal  rejection 
of  the  offers  of  salvation.  Yet  God  hath 
his  hidden  ones  who  are  delighting  great- 
ly in  his  testimonies.  When  Elijah  com- 
plained that  he  stood  alone  in  the  sendee 
of  his  Maker,  the  answer  of  God  was, "  I 
have  reserved  to  myself  seven  thousand 
men  who  have  not  bowed  the  knee  to  the 
image  of  Baal."  We  are  therefore,  at  the 
best,  poor  judges  of  the  way  actually  made 
by  the  Gospel,  and  of  the  influence  which 
it  wields,  whilst  we  see  nothing  on  all  sides 
but  a  spreading  degeneracy.  When  pro- 
fligacy and  infidelity  are  at  their  height, 
there  may  be  many  a  roof  beneath  which 
is  offered  humble  prayer  through  a  Me- 
diator, and  many  an  eye  which  weeps  in 
secret  for  dishonors  done  to  God,  and 
many  a  heart  which  beats  high  with  ex- 
pectation of  the  land,  *'  where  the  wick- 
ed cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary 
are  at  rest."  Are  we  not  then  bound  in 
all  cases,  when  seeking  full  evidence  that 
the  Bible  has  been  a  blessing  whereso- 
ever imparted,  to  refer  to  the  close  of  the 
dispensation,  when  Christ  shall  separate 
the  tares  from  the  wheat  ?  Then  will  it 
be  told  to  the  universe,  how  a  despised 
and  overlooked  company  were  "  filled 
with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory," 
by  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.  Then 
will  it  be  made  manifest  how  the  conso- 
lations of  religion  have  pervaded  many 
families,  what  anxieties  they  have  sooth- 
ed, Avhat  tears  they  have  dried,  what 
hopes  they  have  communicated.  Then 
will  it  be  seen,  that,  over  and  above  the 
intellectual  anil  moral  advantages  which 
the  Scriptures  have  conferred  on  those 
who  never  took  them  as  their  guide  for 


eternity,  spiritual  advantages  have  been 
derived  to  others,  who  were  stirred  by 
their  announcemoTits  from  the  lethargy 
of  sin,  and  moved  to  flee  for  refuge  to  the 
cross  of  the  Redeemer.  Yea,  and  if  it 
even  came  to  pass  that  the  great  hulk  of 
u  people  shrank  away  from  the  face  of 
the  Judge,  beaten  down  by  the  conscious- 
ness that  they  had  not  trusted  in  liim  as 
the  propitiation  for  their  sins  ;  yet  would 
the  few  who  were  lifting  up  their  heads 
with  joy,  be  witnesses  that  revelation  was 
the  best  boon  which  God  could  bestow 
on  a  land — witnesses  by  the  wrath  which 
the  Bible  had  taught  them  to  escape,  wit- 
nesses by  the  glory  it  had  instructed 
them  to  gain,  that,  in  every  case,  and 
under  all  circumstances,  it  was  a  mighty 
advantage  to  a  people,  that  "  unto  them 
had  been  committed  the  oracles  of  God." 
But  we  observed  that  the  expression 
employed  by  the  apostle,  "  chiefly  be- 
cause that  unto  them  were  committed,  or 
intrusted,  the  oracles  of  God,"  represents 
the  Jews  as  stewards  who  should  have 
dispensed  the  Bible,  and  who  might 
themselves  have  been  profited  through 
conveying  it  to  others.  We  are  all  aware 
that  special  promises  are  made  in  the 
Scriptures  to  those  who  shall  be  instru- 
mental in  turning  many  from  darkness, 
and  converting  sinners  from  the  error  of 
their  ways.  We  ordinarily  apply  these 
promises  to  individuals  ;  and  we  expect 
them  to  be  made  good  to  the  zealous 
minister,  and  the  self-denying  missionary. 
Undoubtedly  the  application  is  just ;  for 
we  cannot  question  that  those  who  have 
faithfully  and  successfully  labored  in 
winning  souls  to  Chi'ist,  shall  receive  a 
portion  of  more  than  common  brilliancy, 
when  the  Master  comes  to  reckon  with 
his  servants.  But  we  know  not  why 
these  promises  would  not  have  been  as 
applicable  to  communities  as  to  individ- 
uals, had  communities  regarded  God's 
oracles  as  a  sacred  deposit,  and  them- 
selves as  stewards  who  must  give  an  ac- 
count of  their  distribution.  The  earth 
has  never  yet  pi-esented  the  grand  spec- 
tacle of  what  might  be  called  a  missionary 
nation,  a  people  who  felt  that  the  true 
religion  was  held  in  trust  for  the  bene- 
fit of  the  world,  and  who  concentered 
their  energies  on  the  being  faithful  in  the 
stewardship.  It  cannot  be  said  that  the 
Jews  did  this,  though,  in  spite  of  their 
frequent  rebellions  and  lapses  into  idola- 
I  try,  they  were  the  leaven  which  prevent- 


158 


THE  ADVANTAGES  RESULTING  FROM 


ed  the  complete  decomposition  of  the 
vorld,  and  the  light  which  alone  relieved 
the  ponderous  moral  darkness.  It  can- 
not he  said  that  we  ourselves  have  done 
this,  whatever  the  efforts  which  have  of 
late  yeais  been  made  for  translating  the 
Scriptures  into  the  various  languages,  and 
conveying  them  to  the  various  districts 
of  the  globe.  Tliere  has  been  nothing 
which  has  approached  to  a  national  recog- 
nition, and  a  national  acting  on  the  re- 
cognition, that  God  hatli  made  this  land 
the  depository  of  his  word,  in  order  that 
we  might  employ  those  resources,  which 
an  unlimited  commerce  places  at  our  dis- 
posal, in  diffusing  that  word  over  the  en- 
ormous wastes  of  paganism.  It  is  not  by 
the  endeavors  and  actions  of  private  in- 
dividuals that  the  national  stewardship 
can  be  faithfully  discharged.  A  nation 
must  act  through  its  governors :  and  then 
only  would  the  nation  pi'ove  its  sense, 
that  the  oracles  of  God  had  been  depos- 
ited with  it  in  order  to  distribution 
through  the  world,  when  its  governors 
made  the  conversion  of  the  heathen  one 
great  object  for  which  they  legislated 
and  labored. 

In  this  manner  would  a  christian  state 
occupy  the  same  position  amongst  na- 
tions, as  an  affluent  christian  individual 
amongst  the  parishes  and  hamlets  of  a 
distressed  neighborhood.  Just  as  the  in- 
dividual counts  it  his  business  and  priv- 
ilege, to  communicate  of  his  temporal 
abundance  to  the  inmates  of  surrounding 
cottages,  so  would  the  state  count  it  its 
business  and  privilege  to  communicate 
of  its  spiritual  abundance  to  the  ignorant 
in  surrounding  territories.  And  however 
little  ground  there  may  be  for  a  hope 
that  any  christian  state  will  step  forward, 
and  take  to  itself  the  missionary  charac- 
ter, we  can  be  sure  that  the  absence  of 
all  national  effort  to  disseminate  revela- 
tion is  offensive  in  God's  sight,  and  must 
sooner  or  later  provoke  retribution. 
The  ]}il)le  is  not  given  to  a  people  exclu- 
fiively  for  their  own  use.  It  is  the  food 
of  the  whole  world,  the  volume  from 
which  whatever  is  human  must  draw  the 
soul's  sustenance.  And  no  more  right 
have  a  people  to  keep  this  book  to  them- 
selves, whilst  thousands  in  others  lands 
are  worn  down  by  moral  famine,  tlian  they 
would  have  to  hoard  the  earth's  fruits, 
if  their  own  wants  were  supplied,  and 
the  cry  of  starving  multitudes  swept 
across  the  seas. 


Neither  would  the  faithful  discharge 
of  the  stewardship  be  without  its  reward. 
Our  text  affirms  it  for  the  advantage  of 
a  people,  that  there  have  been  deposited 
with  them  the  oracles  of  God.  We  may 
conclude,  therefore,  that,  in  acting  on 
the  principle  that  the  oracles  are  held  in 
trust  for  the  benefit  of  the  world,  a  peo- 
ple would  secure  the  recompense  gra- 
ciously annexed  to  the  laboring  to  extend 
the  kingdom  of  Christ.  Who  indeed 
that  remembers  that  we  live  under  an 
economy  of  strict  retribution,  and  that 
nations  can  oidy  be  dealt  with  as  nations 
on  this  side  eternity,  will  see  cause  to 
doubt  that  the  earnest  discharge  of  what 
we  call  the  national  stewardship,  would 
be  the  best  means  of  advancing  and  up- 
holding the  national  greatness  1 

Who  can  believe  of  a  people  circum- 
stanced like  ourselves,  that,  in  acting  as 
stewards  of  the  mysteries  of  God,  we 
should  erect  a  rampart  against  every  en- 
emy, and  secui-e  continued  progress  in  all 
that  makes  a  kingdom  mighty.  There 
are  mixed  up  with  the  dealings  of  com- 
merce the  grandest  purposes  of  God  to- 
wards this  fallen  creation.  Every  coun- 
try might  have  been  its  own  store-house 
of  every  necessary  and  every  luxury.  It 
might  have  possessed  within  its  own 
confines  the  productions  of  the  whole 
globe,  and  thus  have  had  but  little  motive 
to  intercourse  with  other  states.  But,  by 
diversifying  his  gift,  God  hath  made  it 
for  the  profit  of  the  world,  that  there 
should  be  constant  interchange  of  pro- 
perty. Thus  facilities  are  afforded  for 
the  communication  of  moral  as  well  as 
physical  advantages  ;  and  commerce  may 
become  the  gieat  propagator  of  Chris- 
tianity. And  it  strikes  us  as  a  beautiful 
arrangement,  that  it  may  have  been  with 
the  express  design  of  providing  that  the 
true  religi(m  should  spread  its  branches 
over  the  world,  that  God  caused  the 
palm-tree,  and  the  citron-tree,  to  grow  in 
one  land  and  not  in  another  ;  and  that,  in 
order  to  bring  the  pearl  of  great  piicc 
within  reach  of  all,  he  may  hav<!  given 
the  gold  to  this  district,  and  the  diamond 
to  that.  And  when  the  ocean  is  before 
us,  dotted  with  vessels  hastening  to  every 
(juartcr  of  the  earth,  or  returning  with 
the  produce  of  far-oflf  islands  and  conti- 
nents, we  look  on  a  nobler  spectacle  than 
that  of  human  ingenuity  and  hardihood 
triumphingover  the  elements,  that  wealth 
may  be  accumulated  and  appetite  pam- 


THE  POSSESSION  OF  THE  SCHIPTURES. 


159 


p^red — we  are  beholding  the  machinery 
through  which  (iod  hath  ordained  that 
the  sections  of"  the  human  family  bIiouUI 
be  kept  knit  together,  and  the  {)rej)ara- 
tions  whicli  he  liath  made  for  the  diflu- 
giim  of  Christianity,  when  the  word  shall 
be  given,  and  "  gieat  shall  be  the  com- 
pany of  the  preachers."  It  has  not  there- 
fore been  witliout  a  view  to  the  mainte- 
nance of  truth  and  the  spread  of  religion, 
that  God  hath  given  to  this  land  the  em- 
pire of  the  seas,  and  opened  to  it  inter- 
course with  every  section  of  the  globe. 
We  rather  believe  that  we  have  been 
made  great  in  commerce,  that  we  might 
be  great  in  the  diffusion  of  knowledge. 
Witii  our  fleets  on  every  sea,  and  vm- 
bounded  wealth  accumulated  in  our  ci- 
ties, there  needs  nothing  but  that,  as  a 
nation,  we  should  feel  our  accountable- 
nesa,  and  rapidly  might  the  records  of 
revelation  make  their  way  through  the 
world.  And  if  we  were  thus  instrumen- 
tal to  the  spread  of  the  Gospel,  thus  faith- 
ful to  our  stewardshij-),  it  would  not  be 
foreign  aggression,  nor  domestic  insubor- 
dination, from  which  there  would  be  dan- 
ger to  the  land  of  our  birth  ;  there  would 
be  pern>anence  in  our  might,  because 
wielded  in  Gcxl's  cause,  and  fixedness  in 
our  prosperity,  because  consecrated  by 
piety.  And  as  glory  and  greatness  flow- 
ed in  upon  us,  and  the  stewards  of  the 
Bible  stood  forth  as  the  sovereigns  of  the 
world,  other  causes  of  the  elevation 
might  indeed  be  assigned  by  the  politi- 
cian and  philosopher;  but  the  true  rea- 
son would  be  with  those  who  should  give 
in  explanation,  "  Chiefly  because  that  un- 
to them  Avere  committed  the  oracles  of 
God." 

I  may  here  refer  for  a  moment  to  that 
charitable  cause  for  which  I  am  directed 
to  ask  your  support.  It  must  be  suffi- 
cient to  remiind  you,  intrusted  as  you  are 
with  the  Bible,  that  there  are  hundreds 
of  children  in  this  town  requiring  to  be 
educated  in  the  priziciplcs  of  the  Bible, 
and  you  will  contribute  liberally  towards 
upholding  the  schools  ivhich  now  make 
their  usual  a])peal  to  your  bounty.  There 
have  been  times  when  it  was  necessary  to 
debate  and  demonstrate  the  duty  of  pro- 
viding instruction  for  the  children  of  the 
poor.  Such  times  are  gone.  We  have 
now  no  choice.  He  were  as  wise  a  man 
who  should  think  to  roll  back  the  Atlan- 
tic, as  he  who  would  stay  the  advancing 
tide  of  intelligence  which   is    pressing 


through  the  land.  You  cannot,  !f  you 
would.  And  I  do  not  believe  there  ia 
one  here  who  would  lift  a  finger  in  so 
unrighteous  an  enterprise.  Here,  if  any 
where,  a  man  may  glory  in  tliat  G;eiieral 
outstretching  of  the  human  mind  which 
is  characteiistic  of  the  times  ;  and  ri'joice 
in  the  fact,  that  in  knowledge,  and  men- 
tal developcment,  the  lower  classes  are 
following  so  close  on  the  higher,  that 
these  latter  must  go  on  with  a  vigorous 
stride,  if  they  would  not  be  quickly  over- 
taken. It  is  not  in  such  a  seat  of  learn- 
ing as  this,  that  we  shall  find  dislike  to  the 
spread  of  information.  Knowledge  is 
a  generous  and  communicative  tiling, 
and  jealousy  at  its  progress  is  ordinarily 
the  index  of  its  wants.  You  would  not, 
if  you  could,  arrest  the  progress  of  edu- 
cation. But  you  may  provide  that  the 
education  shall  be  christian  education. 
You  may  thus  ensui'e  that  education 
shall  be  a  blessing,  not  a  curse  ;  and  savo 
the  land  from  being  covered  with  that 
wildest  and  most  unmanageable  of  all 
populations,  a  population  mighty  alike 
in  intellect  and  ungodliness,  a  population 
that  knows  every  thing  but  God,  eman- 
cipated from  all  ignorance  but  that  which 
is  sure  to  breed  the  worst  lawlessness, 
ignorance  of  the  duties  of  the  religion  of 
Christ.  An  uneducated  population  may 
be  degraded  ;  a  population  educated,  but 
not  in  righteousness,  will  be  ungovern- 
able. The  one  may  be  slaves,  the  other 
must  be  tyrants. 

We  have  now  only,  in  conclusion,  to 
express  an  earnest  lK)pe  that  we  may  all 
learn,  from  the  subject  discussed,  to  set 
a  higher  value  than  ever  on  the  Scrip- 
tures. Do  we  receive  the  Bible  as  "  the 
oracles  of  God  1  "  The  Bible  is  as  ac- 
tually a  divine  communication  as  though 
its  words  came  to  us  in  the  voice  of  the 
Almighty,  mysteriously  syllabled,  and 
breathed  from  the  firmament.  What 
awe,  what  reverence,  what  prostration  of 
soul,  would  attend  the  persuasion  that 
such  is  the  Bible  ;  so  that  opening  it  is 
likeenteringthe  hallowed  haunt  of  Deity, 
whence  unearthly  lips  will  breathe  ora- 
cular responses.  There  needs  n(»thing 
but  an  abiding  con\'iction  that  Scriptui'S 
remains,  what  it  was  at  the  first,  the  word 
of  the  liN^ing  God — not  merely  a  written 
thing,  but  a  spoken  ;  as  much  a  message 
now  as  when  onginally  delivered — and 
the  volume  will  be  perused,  as  it  ought 
to  be,   in   humility,   yet  in  ho2)e,   with 


160 


NEGLECT  OP  TUE  GOSPEL  FOLLOWED  BY  ITS  REMOVAL. 


prayer,  yet  with  confidence.  And  when  I  "The  voice  of  the  Lord,"  saith  the  psalm 
God  is  regarded  as  always  speaking  to  I  ist,  "  is  upon  the  waters  ;  the  voice  of  tho 
his  creatures  through  the  volume  of  reve- 1  Lord  divideth  the  flames  of  fire  :  "  and 
latiou,  there  will  be  no  marvel  that,  prac- 1  well  therefore  may  this  voice  correct  the 
tically,  this  volume  sliould  be  influential    disorders  of  states,  and  fan  the  sparks 


on  the  moral  and  mental,  the  tcmjioral 
as    well   as    eternal,    interests    of  man, 


of  genius,  as  well  as  summon  from  th» 
perishable,  and  guide  to  the  immortal. 


SERMON    IV. 


NEGLECT  OF  THE  GOSPEL  FOLLOWED  BY  ITS  REMOVAL. 


'  ftemembcr  therefore  from  whence  thou  art  fallen,  and  repent,  and  do  the  first  works  ;  or  else  I  will  come  unto  the* 
quickly,  and  will  remove  thy  candlestick  out  of  his  place,  except  thou  repent." — Revelation,  ii.  5. 


In  our  last  discoirrse  we  endeavored 
to  set  before  you  the  advantages  result- 
ing from  the  possession  of  God's  ora- 
cles ;  the  words  which  we  have  just 
read  will  lead  us  to  speak  of  dangers  pro- 
duced by  their  neglect.  The  text  con- 
tains un  exhortation,  and  a  threatening, 
with  which  we  have  evidently  as  great 
concern,  as  had  the  church  of  Ephesus 
to  which  they  were  originally  addressed. 
The  exhortation — an  exhortation  to  re- 
pentance— is  one  which  we  shall  do  well 
to  apply  to  ourselves  ;  the  threatening — 
a  threatening  that  the  candlestick  shall  be 
removed — may  take  effect  in  our  own 
days  as  well  <is  in  earlier. 

Now  there  are  few  duties  to  which 
men  are  more  frequently  urged,  and  in 
regard  to  which,  nevertheless,  they  ai'e 
more  likely  to  be  deceived,  than  the 
great  duty  of  repentance.  It  is  of  the 
first  importance,  that  the  exact  place  and 
nature  of  this  duty  should  be  accurately 
defined  ;  for  so  long  as  there  is  any  thing 
of  misapprehension,  or  mistake,  in  reo-ard 
to  repentance,  there  can  be  no  full  ap- 
prcciatif>n  of  the  jjrodered  mercies  of  the 
Gospel.  It  seems  to  be  too  common  an 
opinion,  that  repentance  is  akind  of  j)ro. 
paration,  o-  preliminary,  which  men  are 


in  a  great  degree  to  effect  for  themselves 
before  they  can  go  to  Christ  as  a  media- 
tor and  propitiation.  Repentance  is  re- 
garded as  a  something  which  they  have 
to  do,  a  condition  they  have  to  perform, 
in  order  that  they  may  be  fitted  to  apply 
to  the  Redeemer,  and  ask  a  share  in  the 
blessings  which  he  purchased  for  man- 
kind. We  do  not,  of  course,  deny  that 
there  must  be  repentance  before  thei-e 
can  be  forgiveness;  and  that  it  is  only  to 
the  broken  and  contrite  heart  that  Christ 
extends  the  fruits  of  his  passion.  We 
say  to  every  man  who  may  be  inquiring 
as  to  the  pardon  of  sin,  except  you  repent 
you  cannot  be  forgiven.  IJut  the  (jues- 
tion  is,  whether  a  man  must  wait  till  ho 
has  repented  befoi'e  he  applies  to  Christ; 
whether  repentance  is  a  preliminary 
which  he  has  to  effect,  ere  he  may  ven- 
ture to  seek  to  a  mediator.  And  it  \a 
here,  as  we  think,  thtst  the  mistake  lio3, 
a  mistake  which  turns  repentance  into  a 
kind  of  obstacle  between  the  sirjuer  and 
Christ. 

The  scriptural  doctrine  in  regard  to 
repentance  is  not,  that  a  man  must  re- 
pent in  order  to  his  being  qualified  to  go 
to  Christ;  it  is  rather,  that  he  must  go 
to  Christ  in  order  to  his  being  enabled 


NEGLECT  OF  THE  GOSPEL  FOLLOWED  BY  ITS  REMOVAL. 


161 


to  repent.  And  the  difTerence  between 
the.se  propositions  is  manifest  and  funda- 
mental. There  would  be  no  virtue  in 
our  repentance,  even  if  we  could  repent 
of  ourselves,  to  recommend  us  to  the  fa- 
vor of  the  Redeemer ;  but  there  goes 
forth  virtue  from  the  licdecmer  liimself, 
strengthening-  us  for  that  repentance 
wliich  is  alone  genuine  and  acceptable. 
St.  Peter  sufficiently  laid  down  this  doc- 
trine, when  he  said  of  Christ  to  the  high 
priest  and  Sadducees,  "  liim  hath  God 
exalted  with  his  right  hand  to  be  a 
Prince  and  a  Savior,  for  to  give  repent- 
ance to  Israel,  and  forgiveness  of  sins," 
Here  repentance  is  stated  to  be  as  much 
the  gift  of  the  glorified  Christ  as  forgive- 
ness— a  statement  inconsistent  with  the 
noticm,  that  repentance  is  something 
which  must  be  effected  without  Christ, 
as  a  ground  on  which  to  rest  our  appli- 
cation to  him  for  pardon.  We  rather 
gather  from  these  words  of  the  apostle, 
that  we  can  no  more  repent  without 
Christ  than  be  pardoned  without  Chiist : 
from  him  comes  the  grace  of  contrition 
as  well  as  the  cleansing  of  expiation. 

There  may  indeed  be  the  abandon- 
ment of  certain  vicious  practices,  and  a 
breaking  loose  from  habits  which  have 
held  the  soul  in  bondage.  Long  ere  the 
man  thinks  of  applying  to  Christ,  and 
whilst  ahnost  a  stranger  to  his  name,  he 
may  make  a  great  advance  in  reforma- 
tion of  conduct,  renouncing  much  which 
his  conscience  has  declared  wrong,  and 
entering  upon  duties  of  which  he  has 
been  neglectful.  But  this  comes  far 
short  of  that  thorough  moral  change 
which  is  intended  by  the  inspired  wri- 
ters, when  they  speak  of  repentance. 
The  outward  conduct  may  be  amended, 
whilst  no  attack  is  made  on  the  love  of 
sin  as  seated  in  the  heart ;  so  that  the 
change  may  be  altogether  on  the  surface, 
and  extend  not  to  the  affections  of  the 
inner  man.  But  the  repentance,  requir- 
ed of  those  w'lo  are  forgiven  through 
Christ,  is  a  radical  change  of  mind  and 
of  spirit;  a  change  which  will  be  made 
apparent  by  a  corresponding  in  the  out- 
ward deportment,  but  whose  great  scene 
is  within,  and  wliich  there  affects  every 
power  and  propensity  of  our  nature. 
And  a  repentance  such  as  this,  seeing  it 
manifestly  lies  beyond  the  reach  of  our 
own  strivings,  is  only  to  be  obtained  from 
Christ,  who  ascended  uj)  on  high,  and 
"  received  gifts  for  the  rebellious,  "  be- 


coming, in  his  exaltation,  the  source  and 
dispenser  of  those  various  assistancs 
which  fallen  beings  need  as  probationers 
for  eternity. 

What  then  is  it  which  a  man  has  to  do 
who  is  desiious  of  becoming  truly  lepent- 
ant  1  We  reply  that  his  great  business 
is  earnest  prayer  to  Christ,  that  lie  would 
give  him  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  enable  him 
to  repent.  Of  course  we  do  not  mean 
that  he  is  to  confine  himself  to  prayer, 
and  make  no  effort  at  correctino;  vvhat 
may  be  wrong  in  his  conduct.  The  sin- 
cerity of  his  prayer  can  only  be  proved 
by  the  vigor  of  his  endeavor  to  obey 
Cxod's  commands.  But  we  mean,  that 
along  with  his  strcnuousness  in  renounc- 
ing evil  habits  and  associations,  there 
must  be  an  abiding  persuasion  that  re- 
pentance, as  well  as  forgiveness,  is  to  be 
jirocured  through  nothing  but  the  aton- 
ing sacrifice  of  Christ;  and  this  jiersua- 
sion  must  make  him  unwearied  in  en- 
treaty, that  Christ  would  send  into  his 
soul  the  renovating  power.  It  may  be 
urged  that  Christ  pardcms  none  but  the 
penitent;  but  our  statement  rather  is, 
that  those  whom  he  pardons  he  first 
makes  penitent. 

And  shall  we  be  told  that  we  thus  re- 
duce man  below  the  level  of  an  intelli- 
gent, accountable  being;  making  him 
altogether  passive,  and  allotting  him  no 
task  in  the  struggle  for  immortality  1 
We  throw  back  the  accusation  as  alto- 
gether unfounded.  We  call  upon  man 
for  the  stretch  of  every  muscle,  and  the 
strain  of  every  power.  As  to  his  beino- 
saved  in  indolence,  saved  in  inactivity, 
he  may  as  well  look  for  hai-vest  where 
he  has  never  sown,  and  for  knowledge 
where  he  has  never  studied.  Is  it  tf)  be 
an  idler,  is  it  to  be  a  sluggard,  to  have 
to  keep  down  that  pride  which  would 
keep  him  from  Christ ;  to  be  wrestlinor 
with  those  passioiis  which  the  light  that 
is  in  him  shows  must  be  mortified  ;  to  be 
unwearied  in  petition  for  the  assistances 
of  the  Spirit,  and  in  using  such  helps  as 
have  been  already  vouchsafed?  If  this 
be  idleness,  that  man  is  an  idler  who  in 
actuated  by  the  consciousness,  that  he 
can  no  more  repent  than  be  pardoned 
without  Christ.  But  if  it  be  to  task  a 
man  to  the  utmost  of  his  energy,  to  pre- 
scribe that  he  go  straightway  for  every 
thing  which  he  needs  to  an  invisible  Me- 
diator; go,  in  spite  of  the  opposition  ot 
the  flesh ;  go,  though  the  path  lies 
21 


I6S 


NEGLECT  OF  THE  GOSPEL  FOLLOWED  BY  ITS  REMOVAL. 


through  resisting  inclinations ;  go,  though 
in  going  he  must  abase  liimself"  in  the 
(lust,  and  proclaim  his  own  notliingncss  ; 
then  we  are  exhorting  the  impenitent  to 
the  mightiest  of  labors,  when  we  exhort 
them  to  seek  repentance  as  Christ's 
gift.  The  assigning  its  true  place  to  re- 
pentance ;  the  destroying  the  notion  that 
rejientance  is  to  be  eflected  for  ourselves, 
and  tlien  to  recommend  us  to  the  Sa- 
vior ;  this,  in  place  of  telhng  men  that 
they  have  little  or  nothing  to  do,  is  the 
urging  them  to  diligence  by  showing 
how  it  may  be  successful  ;  and  to  efibrt, 
by  pointing  out  the  alone  channel  through 
wliich  it  can  prevail.  And  if  there  be 
given  to  the  angel  of  a  church  the  same 
commission  as  was  given  to  the  angel  of 
the  church  at  Ephesus,  so  that  he  must 
come  d(nvn  upon  a  careless  or  backslid- 
ing congregation  with  a  stern  and  start- 
ling summons  ;  never  let  it  be  thought 
that  he  either  keeps  out  of  sight  the  mor- 
al inabilities  of  man,  or  urges  to  an  inert 
and  idle  dependence,  when  he  expatiates 
on  llie  necessity,  and  exhorts  to  the  duty, 
of  repentance — he  is  preaching  that 
Christ  is  all  in  all,  and  nevertheless  he  is 
animating  liis  hearers  to  strive  for  the 
mastery,  and  struggle  for  deliverance, 
when  he  entreats  them  in  the  words  of  our 
text,  to  "  remember  from  whence  they 
are  fallen,  and  repent,  and  do  the  first 
works." 

But  there  is  more  in  this  exhortation 
than  the  summons  to  repentance  :  mem- 
ory is  appealed  to  as  an  assistant  in  the 
duty  to  which  men  are  called.  In  other 
parts  of  Scripture  we  find  great  worth 
attached  to  consideration — as  when  the 
Psalmist  says,  "  I  thought  on  my  ways, 
and  turned  my  feet  to  thy  testimonies," 
Here  tlie  turning  to  God's  testimonies  is 
given  by  David  as  an  immediate  conse- 
quence on  the  thinking  on  his  ways,  as 
thougli  consideration  were  alone  neces- 
Kary  to  insure  a  speedy  repentance.  The 
great  evil  with  the  mass  of  men  is,  that, 
so  far  at  least  as  eternity  is  concerned, 
they  never  tliink  at  all — once  make  them 
think,  and  you  make  tliem  anxious  ;  once 
make  them  anxious,  and  they  will  labor 
to  be  saved.  When  a  man  considers  his 
ways,  angels  may  be  said  to  prej)are 
their  harps,  as  knowing  that  they  shall 
soon  have  to  sweep  tliem  in  exultation  at 
las  repentance. 

And  it  is  urging  you  to  this  consider- 
ation, to  urge  you  to  tlie  remembering 


from  whence  you  are  fallen.  We  all  know 
what  a  power  there  is  in  memory,  when 
made  to  array  before  the  guilty  days  and 
scenes  of  comparative  innocence.  It  is 
with  an  absolutely  crushing  might  that 
the  remembrance  of  the  years  and  home 
of  his  boyhood  will  come  upon  the  crim- 
inal, when  brought  to  a  pause  in  his  ca- 
reer of  misdoing,  and  perhaps  about  to 
suffer  its  penalties.  If  we  knew  his  early 
history,  and  it  would  bear  us  out  in  the 
attempt,  we  should  make  it  our  business 
to  set  before  him  the  scenery  of  his  na- 
tive village,  the  cottage  where  he  was 
bora,  the  school  to  wliich  lie  was  sent, 
the  church  where  he  first  heard  the 
preached  Gospel  ;  and  we  should  call  to 
his  recollection  the  father  and  the  mo- 
ther, long  since  gathered  to  their  rest, 
who  made  him  kneel  down  night  and 
morning,  and  who  instructed  him  out  of 
the  Bible,  and  who  warned  him,  even 
with  tears,  against  evil  ways  and  evil  com- 
panions. We  should  remind  him  how 
peacefully  his  days  then  glided  away  ; 
with  how  much  of  happiness  he  was 
blessed  in  possession,  how  much  of  hope 
in  prospect.  And  he  may  be  now  a  hard- 
ened and  desperate  man  :  but  we  will 
never  believe,  that,  as  his  young  days  were 
thus  passing  before  him,  and  the  rever- 
end forms  of  his  parents  came  back  fiom 
the  grave,  and  the  trees  that  grew  round 
his  birthplace  waved  over  him  their  fol- 
iage, and  he  saw  himself  once  more  as 
he  was  in  early  life,  when  he  knew  crime 
but  by  name,  and  knew  it  only  to  abhor 
— we  will  never  believe  that  he  could  bo 
proof  against  this  mustering  of  the  past 
— he  might  be  proof  against  invective, 
proof  against  reproach,  proof  against  re- 
monstrance ;  but  when  we  brought  mem- 
ory to  bear  upon  liim,  and  bade  it  peo- 
ple itself  with  all  the  imagery  of  youth, 
we  believe  that,  for  the  moment  at  least, 
the  obdurate  being  would  be  subdued, 
and  a  sudden  gush  of  tears  prove  that 
we  had  opened  a  long  sealed-up  foun- 
tain. 

And  we  know  no  reason  why  there 
should  not  be  a  like  power  in  memory, 
in  cases  which  have  no  analogy  with  this, 
except  in  the  general  fact,  that  rnen  are 
not  what  they  were.  If  we  array  before 
us  the  records  of  man's  pristine  condi- 
tion, and  avail  ourselves  of  such  intelli- 
gence as  it  hath  pleased  God  to  vouch- 
safe, we  may  with  suflicient  truth  be  said 
to  remember  whence  we  fell.  And  very 


NEGLECT  OF  THE  GOSPEL  FOLLOWED  BY  ITS  REMOVAL. 


163 


energetic  and  persuasive  would  be  this 
remembrance.  We  should  feel  that  we 
were  gaining  a  great  moral  hold  on  a 
man,  it"  we  prevailed  on  him  to  contrast 
what  he  is,  with  what  Adam  was  ere  he 
ate  the  fordidden  fruit.  It  it  a  conti'ast 
which  must  produce  the  sense  of  utter 
degradation.  The  waving  trees  of  Par- 
adise, and  the  glorious  freshness  of  the 
young  creation,  and  the  unrestrained  in- 
tercourse with  God,  and  the  beautiful 
tranquillity  of  human  life — these  will 
make  the  same  kind  of  appeal  as  the 
fields  where  we  played  in  our  boyhood, 
and  the  roof  which  sheltered  us  whilst 
yet  untutored  in  the  vices,  and  unblcnch- 
ed  by  the  sorrows  of  the  world.  I  was 
by  creation  a  lofty  being,  with  a  compre- 
heusive  understanding,  a  will  that  always 
moved  in  harmony  with  the  divine,  and 
affections  that  fastened  on  the  sublime  and 
indestructible.  I  am,  through  apostacy, 
a  wayward  thing,  with  crippled  energies, 
contracted  capacities,  and  desires  en- 
grossed by  the  perishable.  I  had  a 
body  that  was  heir  to  no  decay,  a  soul 
I'ich  in  the  impress  of  Deity  ;  but  now  I 
must  go  down  to  the  dust,  and  traces  of 
the  defaced  image  arc  scarcely  to  be 
found  on  my  spirit.  I  had  heaven  before 
me,  and  might  have  entered  it  through 
an  obedience  which  could  hardly  be  call- 
ed a  trial  ;  but  now,  depraved  in  inclina- 
tion, and  debased  in  power,  to  what  can 
X  look  forward  but  tribulation  and  wrath  1 
Oh,  this  it  is  to  remember  from  whence 
I  am  fallen. 

And  if  I  have  been  like  the  Ephe- 
sian  Church,  what  Scripture  calls  a 
backslider,  may  not  memory  tell  me  of 
comforts  I  experienced,  when  walking 
closely  with  God,  of  seasons  of  deep 
gladness  when  I  had  mortified  a  pas- 
sion, of  communion  with  eternity  so 
real  and  distinct  that  I  seemed  already 
delivered  from  the  trammels  of  flesh  1 
It  may  well  be,  if  indeed  I  have  declined 
in  godliness,  that  through  musing  on  past 
times,  there  will  be  excited  within  me 
a  poignant  regret.  There  will  come 
back  upon  me,  as  upon  the  criminal  in 
his  cell,  the  holy  music  of  better  days  ; 
and  there  will  be  a  penetrating  power 
in  the  once  gladdening  but  now  melan- 
choly strain,  which  there  would  not  be 
in  the  shrill  note  of  vengeance.  And 
thus  in  each  case,  memory  may  be  a 
mighty  agent  in  bringing  me  to  repent- 
ance.    It  can  scarcely  come  to  pass,  that 


I  should  diligently  and  seriously  remem- 
ber whence  I  am  fallen,  and  yet  be  con- 
scious of  no  desire  to  regain  the  lost 
position.  I  cannot  gaze  on  paradise, 
and  not  long  to  leave  the  wilderness ;  I 
cannot  see  in  myself  the  wanderer,  and 
not  yearn  for  the  home  I  have  forsaken. 
And  therefore  is  there  a  beautiful  appro- 
priateness in  the  message  with  which 
St.  John  was  charged  to  the  angel  of 
the  chui'ch  at  Ephesus.  We  know  that 
except  men  repent,  except  the  indifl'er- 
ent  be  roused  to  earnestness,  the  back- 
sliding recovered  to  consistency,  nothing 
can  prevent  their  final  destruction.  And 
wishing  to  bring  them  to  repentance,  wo 
would  waken  memory  from  her  thou- 
sand cells,  and  bid  her  jiour  forth  the 
imagery  of  what  they  were,  that  they  may 
contrast  it  with  what  they  are.  If  we 
can  arm  against  them  their  own  recollec- 
tions, we  feel  that  we  shall  have  brought 
to  bear  the  most  powerful  of  engines. 
Our  appeal  is  therefore  to  the  past,  our 
summons  is  to  the  shades  of  the  dead. 
And  though  we  know  that  no  remon- 
strance, and  no  exhortation,  can  be  of 
avail,  except  as  carried  to  the  heart  by 
the  Spirit  of  the  living  God,  yet  are  we 
so  persuaded  of  the  power  of  consider- 
ation, and  of  the  likelihood  that  those 
who  are  brought  to  consider  their  ways 
will  go  on  to  reform  them,  that  we  think 
we  prescribe  what  cannot  fail  of  success, 
when,  in  order  that  men  may  repent,  we 
entreat  them,  in  the  words  of  our  text, 
to  remember  from  whence  they  are 
fallen,  and  do  the  first  works. 

But  we  turn  from  the  exhortation  to 
the  threatening  contained  in  our  text, 
"  I  will  come  unto  thee  quickly,  and 
will  remove  thy  candlestick  out  of  his 
place,  except  thou  repent."  It  is  not 
difficult  to  determine  what  the  calamity 
is  which  is  figuratively  denoted  by  the 
removal  of  the  candlestick.  St.  John 
had  beheld  one  like  unto  the  Son  of  man, 
magnificently  and  mysteriously  an-aycd, 
standinij  in  the  midst  of  seven  golden 
candlesticks,  and  holding  in  his  right  hand 
seven  stars.  The  evangelist  is  express- 
ly informed  that  the  seven  stars  are  the 
angels,  or  bishops,  of  the  seven  churches ; 
and  that  the  seven  candlesticks  are  those 
churches  themselves.  Hence  the  can- 
dlestick repi'esents  the  christian  church 
as  erected  in  any  land ;  and  therefore 
the  removing  the  candlestick  out  of  his 
place  can  mean  nothing  less  than  the  un* 


164 


NEGLECT  OF  THE  GOSPEL  FOLLOWED  BY  ITS  REMOVAL. 


churching  a  nation,  the  so  withdrawing 
from  them  the  Gospel  that  they  shall 
lose  the  distinctive  marks  of  a  christian 
community.  We  need  not  lie  (tver-care- 
ful  as  to  the  exactness  with  wliicli  we 
preserve  the  metajilior.  It' the  candle- 
stick be  removed,  the  meaning  must  be 
that  the  spiritual  light  is  removed  ;  or 
that  a  land  which  has  been  blessed  with 
a  knowledge  of  chiistianity,  and  thereby 
brought  specially  into  covenant  with  God, 
is  deprived  of  the  advantages  which  it 
has  failed  to  improve,  and  dislodged  from 
the  relationship  into  which  it  had  been 
admitted. 

And  this  may  take  place,  for  undoubt- 
edly this  has  taken  place.  There  are 
indeed  clear  and  encouraging  promises 
in  Scripture,  sufficient  to  assure  us  that 
neither  outward  opposition,  nor  inward 
corruption,  shall  prevail  to  the  extinction 
of  Christ's  church  upon  earth.  But  these 
promises  refer  generally  to  the  church, 
and  not  to  this  or  that  of  its  sections. 
They  give  no  ground  for  expecting  that 
the  church,  for  example,  of  England,  or 
the  church  of  Rome,  will  never  cease  to 
be  a  church — on  the  contrary,  their  ten- 
or is  quite  compatible  with  the  suppo- 
sition, that  England  or  Rome  may  so 
pervert,  or  abuse,  the  Gospel,  as  to  pro- 
voke God  to  withdraw  it,  and  give  it  to 
lands  now  overrun  with  heathenism. 
There  may  be,  and  there  are,  promises 
that  there  shall  be  always  a  candle  in 
the  world  ;  but  the  candlestick  is  a  move- 
able thing,  and  may  be  ])laced  succes- 
sively in  different  districts  of  the  earth. 

And  we  say  that  this  unchurching  of 
a  nation  is  what  has  actually  occurred, 
and  what  therefore  may  occur  again,  if 
mercies  be  abused,  and  privileges  neg- 
lected. We  appeal  to  the  instance  of 
the  Jews.  The  Jews  constituted  the 
church  of  God,  whilst  all  other  tribes  of 
th(^  human  population  were  strangers 
and  aliens.  And  never  were  a  people 
more  beloved  ;  never  had  a  nation  great- 
er evidences  of  divine  favor  on  which  to 
rest  a  persuasion  that  they  should  not  be 
cast  od"  and  dejirived  of  their  advantages. 
Yet  how  completely  has  the  candlestick 
been  remov(;d  from  Jiulea.  The  land 
of  Abraham,  and  of  Isaru;,  and  of  Jacob; 
the  land  which  held  the  ark  with  its 
my-^terious  and  sacramental  treasures  ; 
the  land  where  ]>riests  made  atonement, 
and  propiiets  deliveied  their  lofty  aiitici- 
ppitions :  the    land    which    Jesus    trode, 


where  Jesus  preached,  and  where  Je*<s 
died  ;  has  been  tenanted  for  centuries  oy 
the  unbeliever,  profaned  by  the  follow- 
ers, and  desecrated  by  the  altars,  of  the 
Arabian    impostor. 

We  appeal  again  to  the  early  church- 
es. Where  are  those  christian  societies 
to  which  St.  Paul  and  St.  John  inscribed 
their  epistles  ?  Where  is  the  Corinthian 
church,  so  affectionately  addressed, 
though  so  boldly  reproved,  by  the  great 
apostle  of  the  Gentiles  ]  Where  is  the 
Philippiau  church,  where  the  Colossian, 
where  the  Thessalonian,  the  letters  to 
which  prove  how  cordially  Christianity 
had  been  received,  and  how  vigorously  it 
flourished  1  Where  are  the  Seven 
Churches  of  Asia,  respecting  which  we 
are  assured  that  they  were  once  strenuous 
in  piety,  and  gave  promise  of  perma- 
nence in  christian  profession  and  privi- 
lege ]  Alas,  how  true  is  it  that  tho 
candlesticks  have  been  removed.  Coun- 
tries in  which  the  Gospel  was  first  plant- 
ed, cities  where  it  took  earliest  root,  from 
these  have  all  traces  of  Christianity  long 
ago  disappeared,  and  in  these  has  the 
cross  been  supplanted  by  the  crescent. 
The  traveller  through  lands  where 
apostles  v/on  their  noblest  victories, 
where  martyrs  witnessed  a  good  confes- 
sion, and  thousands  sjirang  eagerly  for- 
wards to  be  "  baptized  for  the  dead," 
and  to  fill  up  every  breach  which  perse- 
cution made  in  the  christian  ranks,  can 
scarce  find  a  momiment  to  assure  him 
that  he  stands  where  once  congregated 
the  followers  of  Jesus.  Every  wliere 
he  is  suirounded  by  su}>erstitioos  little 
better  than  those  of  heathenism,  so  that 
the  uncliurching  of  these  lands  has  been 
the  giving  them  up  to  an  Egyptian  dark- 
ness. And  what  are  we  to  say  of  such 
facts,  except  that  they  prove — provo 
with  a  clearness  and  awfulness  of  demon- 
stration, which  leave  ignorance  inexcu- 
sable, and  indifference  self-condemned — 
that  the  blessings  of  Christianity  are 
deposited  with  a  nation  to  be  valued  and 
improved,  and  that  to  despise  or  misuse 
them  is  to  provoke  their  withdrawmcnt ; 
If  we  could  trace  the  histories  of  tho 
several  churches  to  which  we  have  refer- 
red, we  shouM  find  that  they  all  "  left 
their  first  love,"  grew  lukewarm  in 
religion,  or  were  daunted  by  danger 
into  apostacy.  There  was  no  lack  of 
warning,  none  of  exhortation  ;  for  it  is 
never  suddenly,   never  without   a    pro- 


NEGLECT  OP  THE  GOSPEL  FOLLOWED  BY  ITS  REMOVAL. 


165 


tracted  struggle,  that  God  proceeds  to 
extremes,  whether  witli  a  church  or  an 
individual.  But  warning  and  exhorta- 
tion were  in  vain.  False  teachers  grew 
into  favor;  false  doctrines  superseded 
the  true ;  with  eiToneous  tenets  came 
their  genei-al  accompaniment,  dissolute 
practice  ;  till  at  length,  if  the  candlestick 
remained,  the  light  was  extinct ;  and  then 
God  gave  the  sentence,  tha*"  the  candle- 
slick  should  be  removed  out  of  his 
place. 

And  never  lit  it  be  thought  that  such 
sentence  is  of  no  veiy  terrible  and  deso- 
lating character.  Come  foreign  invasion, 
come  domestic  insubordinali<»n,  come 
famine,  come  pestilence.  Come  any 
evil  rather  that  the  unchurching  which 
is  threatened  in  our  text.  It  is  the 
sorest  thing  which  God  can  do  against  a 
land.  He  himself  represents  it  as  such, 
when  sending  messages  of  wo  by  the 
mouth  of  his  servant  Amos.  "  Behold 
the  days  come,  saith  the  Lord  God,  that 
I  will  send  a  famine  in  the  land,  not  a 
famine  of  bread,  nor  a  thirst  for  water, 
but  of  hearing  the  words  of  the  Lord." 
The  blasting  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  so 
that  the  valleys  should  not  yield  their  ac- 
customed abundance — this  would  be  a 
fearful  thing,  but  there  was  to  be  some- 
thing more  fearful  than  this.  The  dry- 
ing up  the  fountains,  and  the  cutting  off 
the   streams — this   would  be  a  s^rievous 

T  ■ 

dispensation,  but  there  was  to  be  some- 
thing more  grievous  than  this.  The 
suspension  of  all  messages  from  heaven, 
the  cessation  of  that  intercourse  which 
had  subsisted  between  the  people  and 
God,  the  removal  of  the  light  of  revela- 
tion— this  was  the  threatened  evil,  which 
would  make  comparatively  inconsider- 
able tb.e  dearth  of  the  bread,  and  the 
want  of  the  water.  Every  other  calamity 
may  be  sent  in  mercy,  and  have  for  its 
design  the  correction,  and  not  the  de- 
struction, of  its  subjects.  But  this  ca- 
lamity has  none  of  the  character  of  a 
fatherly  chastisement.  It  shows  that 
God  has  done  with  a  people  ;  that  he 
will  no  longer  strive  with  them ;  but 
that  henceforvvai'ds  he  gives  them  up  to 
their  own  wretched  devices. 

And  therefore,  with  the  removal  of  the 
Gospel  must  be  the  departure  of  what- 
ever is  most  precious  in  tho  possessions 
of  a  people.  It  is  not  merely  that  Chris- 
tianity is  taken  away — though  who  shall 
measure,  who  imagine,  the  loss,  if  this 


were  indeed  alii — but  it  is  that  God 
must  frown  on  a  land  Irom  which  lie  hath 
been  provoked  to  withdraw  his  (icjspel  j 
and  that,  if  the  frown  of  the  Almiglity 
rest  on  a  country,  the  sun  of  that  coun- 
try's greatness  goes  rapidly  down,  and 
the  dreariness  of  a  moral  midnight  fast 
gathers  above  it  and  around  it.  Has  it 
not  been  thus  with  countries,  and  with 
cities,  to  which  we  have  already  refeired, 
and  from  which,  on  account  of  their 
iniquities  and  impieties,  the  candlestick 
ha's  been  removed  ?  The  seven  Church- 
es of  Asia,  where  are  the  cities  whence 
they  drew  their  names  ;  cities  that  teem- 
ed with  inhabitants,  that  were  renowned 
for  arts,  and  which  served  as  centres  of 
civilization  to  far-spreading  districts  ] 
Did  the  unchurching  these  cities  leave 
them  their  majesty  and  prosperity ;  did 
the  removal  of  the  candlestick  leave  un- 
dimmed  their  political  lustre  1  Ask  the 
traveller  who  gropes  painfully  his  way 
over  prostrate  columns,  and  beneath 
crumbling  arches,  having  no  index  but 
ruins  to  tell  him  that  a  kingdom's  dust 
is  under  his  feet ;  and  endeavoring  to 
assure  himself,  from  the  magnitude  of 
the  desolation,  that  he  has  found  the 
site  of  a  once  splendid  metropolis  '?  The 
cities,  with  scarce  an  exception,  wasted 
from  the  day  when  the  candlestick  was 
removed,  aiid  grew  into  monuments — 
monuments  whose  marble  is  decay,  and 
whose  inscription  devastation — telling 
out  to  all  succeeding  ages,  that  the  read- 
iest mode  in  which  a  nation  can  destroy 
itself,  is  to  despise  the  Gospel  with 
which  it  has  been  intrusted,  and  that  the 
most  fearful  vial  which  God  can  empty 
on  a  land  is  that  which  extinguishes  the 
blessed  shinings  of  Christianity. 

Oh,  it  may  be  the  thought  of  those 
who  care  little  for  the  Gospel,  and  who 
have  never  opened  their  hearts  to  its 
gracious  communications,  that  it  would 
be  no  overwhelming  calamity  if  God  ful- 
filled his  threat  and  removed  the  candle- 
stick out  of  his  place.  They  may  think 
that  the  springs  of  national  prosperity, 
and  national  happiness,  would  be  left 
untouched ;  and  that  the  unchurched 
people  might  still  have  their  fleets  on 
every  sea,  still  gather  into  their  lap  the 
riches  of  the  earth,  and  sit  undisturbed  a 
sovereign  among  the  nations.  I  know 
not  how  far  such  might  be  actually  the 
case.  I  know  not  how  far  the  conquests 
or  the   commerce   of  a  country   mighl 


166 


NEGLECT  OF  THE  GOSPEL  FOLLOWED  BY  ITS  REMOVAL. 


remain  unaffected  by  the  loss  of  its  Chris- 
tianity. But  this  I  know,  that  God's 
blessing  could  no  longer  rest  on  its  vic- 
tories, or  accompany  its  trade  ;  and  that, 
therefore,  if  its  armies  triumphed,  the 
triumpli  would  be  virtually  defeat ;  and 
if  its  ships  were  riclily  freighted,  it 
would  be  with  fruits,  which,  like  the 
fabled  ones  from  the  Dead  Sea's  shore, 
turn  to  ashes  in  the  mouth.  No,  we 
again  say,  come  any  thing  rather  than 
this.  Come  barrenness  into  our  soil ; 
come  discord  into  our  councils ;  come 
treason  into  our  camps ;  come  wreck 
into  our  navies — but  let  us  not  be  un- 
churched as  a  nation.  We  may  be  be- 
loved of  God,  and  He  may  have  pur- 
poses of  mercy  towards  us,  whilst  he 
takes  from  us  our  temporal  advantages, 
but  still  leaves  us  our  spiritual.  He  may 
be  only  disciplining  us  as  a  parent ;  and 
the  discipline  proves,  not  merely  that 
there  is  need,  but  that  there  is  room  for 
re])entance.  But  if  we  were  once  de- 
prived of  the  Gospel;  if  the  Bible 
ceased  to  circulate  amongst  our  people  ; 
if  there  were  no  longer  the  preaching  of 
Christ  in  our  churches  ;  if  we  were  left 
to  set  up  reason  instead  of  revelation, 
to  bow  the  knee  to  tlie  God  of  our  own 
imaginations,  and  to  burn  unhallowed 
incense  before  the  idols  which  the  mad- 
ness of  speculation  would  erect — then 
farewell,  a  long  farewell,  to  all  that  has 
given  dignity  to  our  state,  and  happiness 
to  our  homes  ;  the  true  foundations  of 
true  greatness  would  be  all  undermined, 
the  bulwarks  of  real  liberty  shaken,  the 
springs  of  peace  poisioned,  the  sources 
of  prosperity  dried  up  ;  and  a  coming 
generation  would  have  to  add  our  name 
to  those  of  countries  whose  national  de- 
cline has  kept  pace  with  their  religious, 
and  to  point  to  our  fate  as  exhibiting  the 
awful  comprehensiveness  of  the  threat, 
"  I  will  come  unto  thee  quickly,  and 
will  remcjve  thy  candlestick  out  of  his 
place,  except  thou  repent." 

But  we  rejoice  in  pronouncing  this  a 
doom,  respecting  which  we  do  not  au^ur 
a  likelihood  that  it  will  fall  on  this  king- 
dom. There  may  have  been  periods  in 
the  history  of  this  land,  when  the  up- 
holders of  true  religion  had  cause  for 
gloomy  forebodings,  and  for  fears  that 
God  would  uncliurch  our  nation.  And 
Bomo  indeed  may  be  disposed  to  regard 
the  present  as  a  period  when  such  fbre- 
bodinga  and  fears  might  be  justly  en- 


tertained. They  may  think  that  so  great 
is  the  array  of  hostility  against  the  na- 
tional church,  that  the  most  sanguine  can 
scarce  venture  to  hope  that  the  candle- 
stick will  not  be  cast  down.  We  cannot 
subscribe  to  this  opinion.  We  are  not 
indeed  blind  to  the  amount  of  opposition 
to  the  national  church  ;  neither  have  we 
the  least  doubt  that  the  destruction  of 
this  church  would  give  a  fatal  blow  to 
thfc  national  Christianity.  We  dare  not 
indeed  say  that  God  might  not  preserve 
amongst  us  a  pure  cliristianity,  if  the 
national  church  were  overthrown.  But 
we  are  bold  to  affirm,  that  hitherto  has 
the  church  been  the  grand  engine  in 
effecting  such  preservation  ;  and  that  we 
should  have  no  right  to  expect,  if  we 
dislocated  this  engine,  that  results  would 
not  follow  disastrous  to  religion.  I  could 
not  contend  for  the  established  Church, 
merely  because  venerable  by  its  anti- 
quity, because  hallowed  by  the  solemn 
processions  of  noble  thought  which  have 
issued  from  its  recesses,  or  because  the 
prayers  and  praises  which  many  gener- 
ations have  breathed  througli  its  services, 
seem  mysteriously  to  haunt  its  temples, 
that  they  may  be  echoed  by  the  tongues 
of  the  living.  But  as  the  great  safe- 
guard and  propagator  of  unadulterated 
Christianity  ;  the  defender,  by  her  arti- 
cles, of  what  is  sound  in  doctrine,  and, 
by  her  constitution,  of  what  is  apos- 
tolic in  government ;  the  represser,  by 
the  simple  majesty  of  her  ritual,  of  all 
extravagance;  the  encourager,  by  its 
fervor,  of  an  ardent  piety — I  can  con- 
tend f(jf  the  continuance  amongst  us 
of  the  Establishment,  as  I  would  for  the 
continuance  of  the  Gospel ;  I  can  depre- 
cate its  removal  as  the  removal  of  our 
candlestick.  It  is  not  then  because  we 
arc  blind  to  the  opposition  to  the  nation- 
al church,  or  fail  to  identify  this  church 
with  the  national  Christianity,  that  wo 
share  not  the  fears  of  those  who  would 
now  prophesy  evil.  But  we  feel  that 
danger  is  only  bringing  out  the  strength 
c:  the  church,  and  that  her  efficiency  has 
increased  as  her  existence  has  been  men- 
aced. The  threatening  of  our  text  be- 
hjngs  to  the  lukewarm  and  the  indolent ; 
its  very  language  proves  that  it  ceases 
to  be  applicable,  if  it  have  fanned  the 
embers,  and  strung  the  energies.  We 
believe  of  an  apostolic  church,  that  it 
can  die  only  by  suicide  ;  and  where  are 
our  fears  of  suicide,  when  enmity  has  but 


NEGLECT  OF  THE  GOSPEL  FOLLOWED  BY  ITS  REMOVAL. 


167 


produced  greater  zeal  in  winning  souls  to 
Christ,  and  hatred  been  met  by  increased 
efforts  to  disseminate  the  religion  of  love  ] 

"We  might  not  have  ventured  to  intro- 
duce these  obsei-vations,  in  concluding 
our  discourses  before  this  assembly,  had 
we  not  felt  that  the  church  stands  or  falls 
with  the  universities  of  the  land,  and 
that  the  present  condition  of  this  univer- 
sity more  than  warrants  our  belief  that 
tliQ  candlestick  is  not  about  to  be  remov- 
ed. It  is  a  gratification,  not  to  be  ex- 
pressed, to  find,  after  a  few  years'  ab- 
sence, what  a  growing  attention  there 
has  been  to  those  noblest  purposes  for 
which  colleges  were  founded  ;  and  how 
the  younger  pait,  more  especially,  of 
our  body,  whence  ai-e  to  be  drafted 
the  ministers  of  our  parishes,  and  the 
most  influential  of  our  laity,  have  advanc- 
ed in  respect  for  religion,  and  attention 
to  its  duties.  One  who  has  beeneng^ao:- 
ed  in  other  scenes  may  perhaps  better 
judge  the  advance  than  those  under 
whose  eye  it  has  proceeded  ;  and  if  tes- 
timony may  derive  worth  from  its  sincer- 
ity, when  it  cannot  from  the  station  of 
the  party  who  gives  it,  there  will  be 
borne  strong  witness  by  him  who  ad- 
dresses you,  that  not  only  is  the  fire  of 
genius  here  cherished,  and  the  lamp  of 
philosophy  trimmed ;  but  that  here  the 
candle,  which  God  hath  lighted  for  a 
world  sitting  in  darkness,  burns  brightly, 
and  that,  therefore,  though  enemies  may 
be  fierce,  the  candlestick  is  firm. 

But  suffer  me,  my  younger  brethen,  to 


entreat  you  that  you  would  think  more 
and  more  of  your  solemn  responsibility. 
I  cannot  compute  the  amount  of  influence 
you  may  wield  over  the  destinies  of  the 
church  and  the  country.  In  a  few  years 
you  will  be  scattered  over  the  land,  occu- 
pying different  stations,  and  filling  dif- 
ferent parts  in  society.  And  it  is  because 
we  hope  you  will  go  hence  with  religion 
in  the  heart,  that  we  venture  to  predict 
good,  and  not  evil.  We  entreat  you  to 
take  heed  that  you  disappoint  not  the 
hope,  and  thus  defeat  the  prediction. 
We  could  almost  dare  to  say  that  you 
have  the  majesty,  and  the  Christianity, 
of  the  empire  in  your  keeping  ;  and  we 
beseech  you,  therefore,  to  "  flee  youth- 
ful lusts,"  as  you  would  the  plots  of  trea- 
son, and  to  follow  the  high  biddings  of 
godliness,  as  you  would  the  trumpet-call 
of  patriotism.  Your  vices,  they  must 
shake  the  candlestick,  which  God  in  his 
mercy  hath  planted  in  this  land,  and 
with  whose  stability  he  has  associated 
the  greatness  of  the  state,  and  the  hap- 
piness of  its  families.  But  your  quiet 
and  earnest  piety  ;  your  submission  to 
the  precepts  of  the  Gospel  ;  your  faith- 
ful discharge  of  appointed  duties  ;  these 
will  help  to  give  fixedness  to  the  can- 
dlestick— and  there  may  come  the  earth- 
quake of  political  convulsion,  or  the 
onset  of  infidel  assault,  but  Christianity 
shall  not  be  overthrown  ;  and  we  shall 
therefore  still  know  that "  the  Lord  of 
Hosts  is  with  us,  that  the  God  of  Jacob 
is  our  refuge." 


SPITAL   SERMON. 


This  Sermon  was  preached  according  to  annual  custom,  in  commemoration  of  five  several 
Hospitals  in  London.  Their  several  Annual  Reports  were  read  iu  the  course  of  the  Sermon,  M 
indicated  by  a  line  drawn  across  tlie  page  towards  the  end. 


SERMON. 


"  For  ye  have  the  poor  always  with  you,  but  me  ye  hava  i»o*  a2ways." — BIatthew,  xxvi.  11. 


With  a  heart  full  of  the  remembrance 
of  the  mercy  which  Jiad  been  shown  to 
her  family,  did  Mary,  the  sister  of  La- 
zarus, approach  and  pour  ointment  over 
the  head  of  the  lledeemer.  Not  yet  suf- 
ficently  taught  that  Christ  was  to  be  hon- 
ored by  tlie  consecration  of  the  best  of 
our  substance,  the  disciples  murmured 
at  what  they  thought  Avaste,  and  called 
forth  from  the  Savior  a  vindication  of  the 
act.  He  pronounced  it  possessed  of  a 
kind  of  prophetical  power ;  and  glanc- 
ing onwards  to  that  ignominious  death, 
whereby  the  world's  redemption  was 
about  to  be  achieved,  declared  that  it 
had  been  done  for  his  burial,  and  thus 
represented  it  as  the  produce  of  that  af- 
fection which  pays  eagerly  the  last  honors 
to  one  most  cherished  and  revered. 

AVlicther  or  no  there  had  been  given 
intimation  to  Mary  of  the  near  approach 
of  the  final  scenes  of  Christ's  ministra- 
tion, does  not  appear  from  the  scriptural 
record.  It  is  evident,  however,  that 
Christ  grounds  his  defence  of  her  con- 
duct mainly  on  the  fact,  that  his  cruci- 
fixion was  at  hand,  making  the  proxim- 
ity of  that  stupendous  event  a  sufficient 
reason  for  the  course  which  she  had  fol- 
lowed. Thus,  in  conformity  with  the 
maimer  of  teaching  which  he  always 
pursued,  that  of  extracting  from  j)as8ing 
occurences  the  material  of  some  spiritual 
admonition,  he  takes  occasion,  from  the 
pouring  out  of  the  ointment,  to  deliver  a 


truth  which  hath  about  it  all  the  unctioh 
of  divinity.  AVe  allow  that,  on  its  ori- 
ginal delivery,  our  text  had  a  decided  re- 
ference to  existent  circumstances  ;  but 
we  still  contend  that,  in  the  fulness  of  ita 
meaning,  it  is  as  forcible  to  ourselves 
as  it  was  to  Mary  and  the  apostles. 
There  was,  indeed,  a  contrast  implied  in 
the  first  instance,  which,  we  thank  God, 
can  no  longer  be  urged,  a  contrast  be- 
tween the  presence  of  Christ  as  vouch- 
safed to  his  church,  and  that  same  pre- 
sence for  a  while  withdrawn.  The  hea- 
vens have  received  the  Savior  until  the 
times  of  the  restitution  of  all  things  ;  but 
though  with  our  bodily  eyes  we  behold 
him  not,  wc  know  that  he  is  never  ab- 
sent from  the  assemblies  of  his  people, 
but  that  "  where  two  or  three  are  met 
together  in  his  name,  there  is  he  in  the 
midst  of  them." 

Until  the  Redeemer  had  won  to  him- 
self, by  his  agony  and  his  passion,  the 
mighty  title  of"  Head  over  all  things  to 
the  church," — a  title  which  belongs  to 
him  not  so  much  by  the  rights  of  liis  es- 
sential deity,  as  through  virtue  of  his  hav- 
ing entered  into  humanity,  and  presented 
it,  in  obedience  and  suffering,  to  the  Crea- 
tor— he  could  not  put  fortli  those  gra- 
cious communications  which  sup])ly  the 
place  of  a  visible  jiresence.  Hence 
it  must  have  come  necessarily  to  jiass, 
that  any  allusion  to  his  removal  from 
{  earth  would  bring  a  cloud  over  the  minds 


SPITAL  SERMON. 


169 


of  his  disciples,  since  it  was  only  from 
the  headship  to  which  I  have  adverted 
that  they  could  derive  those  iiitlueiices 
which  teach  the  spiritual  nature  of 
Christ's  kingdom.  To  the  disciples, 
therefore,  we  again  say,  there  was  a  con- 
trast in  the  text  which  can  scarcely  be 
said  to  exist  to  ourselves.  We  ai'e  in- 
deed looking  forwards,  unless  we  live 
most  basely  below  our  privileges,  to  a 
season  when,  after  a  manner  infinitely 
more  glorious  than  any  which  past  ages 
have  seen,  the  presence  of  the  liedeemer 
shall  be  granted  to  his  people.  We 
know  that  the  Bible  hath  painted,  with 
all  the  power  of  splendid  diction,  a  pe- 
riod at  which  the  bridegroom  shall  return, 
and  gathering  triumphantly  his  elect  from 
the  four  corners  of  the  earth,  unite  them 
to  himself  in  a  visible  and  indestructible 
union.  But  whilst  we  attempt  no  denial 
that,  ever  since  the  ascension  of  Christ, 
the  church  hath  been  placed  in  what  may 
fitly  be  called  a  widowed  estate,  we  may 
still  justly  maintain,  that  the  argument, 
from  contrast  which  our  text  exhibits, 
was  of  local  and  temporary  power.  We 
have  Christ  with  us  in  such  real  and 
glorious  manifestations,  as  no  apostle 
could  have  conceived  of  previously  to  the 
effusions  of  the  Spirit.  And  in  place  of 
that  carnal  calculation  which  would  de- 
tach the  head  from  the  members,  and  de- 
cide that  no  ministrations  can  be  render- 
ed to  Christ,  unless  he  move  amongst  us 
in  the  garniture  of  flesh,  we  have  learn- 
ed from  the  fuller  disclosures  of  the  Gos- 
pel, that  the  Savior  is  succored  in  the 
persons  of  his  followers,  so  that  having 
the  poor  always  with  us,  we  always  have 
Christ  on  whom  to  shed  the  anointings 
of  our  love.  If  there  were  not,  then, 
some  general  lessons  couched  under  the 
limited  assertion  of  the  text,  there  would 
be  but  little  in  these  words  of  Christ  to 
interest  the  man  of  later  generations.  We 
could  merely  survey  them  as  possessed 
originallyofa  plaintive  and  touching  beau- 
ty, so  that  they  must  have  fallen  on  the 
disciples'  ears  with  all  that  melancholy 
softness  which  arrays  the  dying  words 
of  those  we  best  love.  We  could  only 
regard  them  as  exquisitely  calculated  to 
thrill  through  the  hearts  of  the  hearers, 
fixing,  as  they  must  have  done,  their 
thoughts  on  a  separation  which  seemed 
to  invtjlve  the  abandonment  of  their  dear- 
est expectations,  and  to  throw  to  the 
ground  those  hopes  of  magnificent  em- 


pire which  the  miracles  of  Christ  Jesus 
had  aroused  within  them. 

But  the  words  are  not  thus  to  be  con- 
fined in  their  application,  and  if  we  sweep 
out  of  view  the  incidents  which  give  rise 
to  their  delivery,  we  may  extract  from 
them  lessons  well  suited  to  sundry  occa- 
sions, and  to  none  more  emphatically 
than  to  the  present. 

We  ai'e  assembled  to  commemorate 
the  foundation  of  cerain  noble  institutions, 
which  stand  amongst  the  chief  of  those 
which  shed  honor  on  the  land  of  our 
birth.  And  I  see  not  how  such  com- 
memoration can  be  better  effected,  or 
how  that  benevolence,  upon  which  these 
illustrious  institutions  depend,  can  be 
more  encouraged  to  go  on  with  its  labors, 
than  by  our  searching  into  the  bearings 
of  the  fact  that  "  the  poor  we  have  always 
with  us,"  remembering  at  the  same  time 
that  in  ministering  to  them  for  the  love 
of  Christ,  we  as  literally  minister  to  the 
Redeemer  himself,  as  if  he  also  were  al- 
ways visibly  with  us. 

The  subject  matter  of  discourse  is  thus 
open  before  us.  I  take  the  assertion 
"ye  have  the  poor  always  with  you,"  as 
one  which,  whilst  it  prophetically  asserts 
the  unvarying  continuance  of  poverty 
amongst  men,  leads  us  attentively  to  pon- 
der on  the  ends  which  that  continuance 
subserves ;  and  then  I  tui-n  to  the  fact 
that  the  head  is  always  present  amongst 
us  in  the  members,  and  use  it  as  a  motive 
to  the  support  of  establishments  which 
seek  to  alleviate  distress. 

Such  are  our  two  topics  of  discourse ; 
the  ends  which  the  continuance  of  po- 
verty has  subserved — the  motives  to  be- 
nevolence which  the  presence  of  Christ 
supplies. 

Now  it  is  much  to  receive  an  assurance 
from  the  Redeemer  himself  that  the  poor 
we  are  always  to  have  with  u3  ;  for  we 
may  hence  justly  conclude  that  poverty 
is  not,  what  it  hath  been  termed,  an  un- 
natural estate,  but  rather  one  appointed 
to  exist  by  the  will  of  the  Almighty.  It 
hath  ever  been  a  favorite  subject  of  popu- 
lar harangue,  that  there  ought  to  come  an 
equalization  of  the  ranks  of  society,  and 
that  the  diversity  of  condition  which  char- 
acterizes our  species  is  a  direct  violation 
of  what  are  proudly  termed  the  rights  of 
man.  We  allow  it  to  be  most  easy  to 
workup  a  stirring  declamation,  carrying 
along  with  it  the  plaudits  of  the  multitude, 
whensoever  the  doctrine  is  propounded, 
22 


170 


SPITAL  SERMON. 


that  one  man  possesses  the  same  natu- 
ral claims  as  another  to  the  riches  which 
Providence  hath  scattered  over  the  earth. 
The  doctrine  is  a  specious  doctrine,  but 
we  hold  it  to  Ikj  undeniably  an  unscrip- 
tural  doctrine.  We  hold  it  to  be  clear  to 
every  fair  student  of  the  word  of  inspi- 
ration, that  God  hath  irrevocably  deter- 
mined that  the  fabric  of  human  society 
shall  consist  of  successive  stages  or  plat- 
forms ;  and  that  it  falls  never  within  the 
scope  of  his  dispensations,  that  earthly 
allotments  siiould  be  in  any  sense  uni- 
form. We  are  to  have  the  poor  always 
with  us,  and  that  too  because  the  Crea- 
tor hath  so  willed  it,  rather  than  because 
the  creature  hath  introduced  anomalies 
into  the  system.  And  therefore  do  we 
likewise  hold,  that  every  attempt  at  equal- 
ization is  tantamount  to  direct  rebellion 
against  the  appointments  of  heaven — it 
is  neither  more  nor  less  than  an  effort  to 
set  aside  the  declared  purposes  of  Jeho- 
vah ;  and  never  do  we  believe  it  can  be 
aimed  at  in  any  land,  unless  infidelity  go 
first,  that  stanch  standard-bearer  of  an- 
archy, and  leap  upon  our  altars  in  order 
that  it  may  batter  at  our  thrones.  The 
principle  which  seems  now  introducing 
itself  into  the  politics  of  Europe,  and 
which  is  idolized  as  the  Nebuchadnez- 
zar image  of  the  day — the  principle  that 
all  power  should  emanate  from  the  peo- 
ple— may  be  hailed  and  cheered  by  the 
great  body  of  mankind  ;  but  it  is  an  un- 
sound principle,  for  it  is  palpably  an  un- 
scriptural  principle, — the  scriptural  doc- 
trine being  that  Christ  is  the  Head  of 
all  rule  and  all  authority,  and  that  from 
the  }Jead  power  is  conveyed  to  his  vice- 
gerents upon  earth  :  and  I  leave  you  to 
judge  (and  I  speak  thus  out  of  reverence 
to  the  Bible,  and  not  out  of  deference  to 
the  magistracy  before  whom  I  stand) 
what  accordance  there  can  be  between 
this  d(jctrine  and  that  which  has  been 
set  up  as  the  Dagon  of  the  asfe,  seeinjr 
that  the  one  makes  power  decsend  from 
above,  whilst  the  other  represents  it  as 
springing  from  beneath. 

We  thus  argue,  that  seeing  it  to  be  the 
appointment  of  heaven  that  we  should 
"  have  the  poor  always  with  us,"  the  duty 
of  submission  may  be  learnt  from  the 
continuance  of  poverty,  and  that  God 
hath  so  mysteriously  interwoven  the  mo- 
tives to  (jbediencc  with  the  causes  of 
dissatisfaction,  tliat  a  man  must  first 
brave  the  wrath  bv  scorninir  the  will  of 


his  Maker,  before  he  can  adventure  on 
the  tearing  down  the  institutions  of  so- 
ciety. 

But  there  are  other,  and  those  more 
obvious  ends,  which  this  continuance  of 
poverty  hath  subsened.  Let  me  premise, 
that  although  there  is  a  broad  line  of 
demarcation,  separating  the  higher  from 
the  lower  classes  of  society,  the  points 
of  similarity  arc  vastly  more  numerous 
than  the  points  of  distinction.  We  are 
told  in  the  Book  of  Proverbs,  that  "the 
rich  ajid  poor  meet  together,  the  Lord 
is  the  Maker  of  them  all."  Where  is  it, 
I  pray  you,  that  they  thus  meet  1  De- 
scended from  one  common  ancestor,  the 
rich  and  poor  meet  before  God  on  the 
wide  level  of  total  apostacy.  This  may 
be  a  hard  doctrine,  but  nevertheless  I 
would  not  that  the  ear  should  turn  away 
from  its  truth.  Intellect  doth  sever  be- 
tween man  and  man,  and  so  doth  learn- 
ing, and  outward  honor,  and  earthly  for- 
tune, and  there  may  appear  no  intimate 
link  of  association  contiecting  the  posses- 
sors of  lofty  genius  with  the  mass  of  dull 
and  common-place  spirits,  or  binding  to- 
gether the  great  and  the  small,  the  ca- 
ressed and  the  despised,  the  applauded 
and  the  scorned  ;  but  never  yet  have  the 
dreams  of  revolutionary  enthusiasm  as- 
signed so  perfect  a  level  to  the  face  of  hu- 
man society,  as  that  upon  which  its  sev- . 
eral  members  do  actually  meet,  even  the 
level  of  original  sin, — the  level  of  a  to- 
tal incapacity  to  ward  off  condemnation. 
Aliens  from  God,  and  outcasts  from  the 
light  of  his  favor,  there  is  no  distinction 
between  us  as  to  the  moral  position 
which  we  naturally  occupy  ;  but  the  rich 
man  and  the  poor  man  share  alike,  the 
one  not  more  and  the  other  not  less,  in  the 
ruin  which  hath  rolled  as  a  deluge  over 
our  earth. 

Yea,  and  if  they  stand  by  nature  on 
the  same  level  of  ruin,  so  are  they  plac- 
ed by  redemjition  on  the  same  level  of 
restoration.  Men  have  garbled  aiul  mu- 
tilated the  blessed  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ,  by  inventing  their  systems  of  ex- 
clusion, and  have  offended  as  much  against 
philosophy  as  against  theology,  by  limit- 
ing the  effects  of  the  atonement  to  cer- 
tain individuals.  The  liedecmcr  had 
indeed  human  nature,  but  he  had  no  hu- 
man personality,  and  therefore  he  re- 
deemed the  nature  in  itself,  and  not  this 
or  that  person.  .Tust  therefore  as  the 
whole  race  had  fallen  in  the  first  Adam, 


SPITAL  SERMON. 


171 


60  was  the  whole  race  redeemed  or  pur- 
chased by  the  second  ;  and  tlie  sun  in  its 
circuits  about  this  sin-struck  gh)be  shines 
not  upon  the  lonely  being,  unto  whom  it 
may  net  be  said  with  all  the  force  of  a 
heavenly  announcement,  for  thy  trans- 
gressions a  Mediator  hath  died  ! 

We  go  back  then  to  the  matter  in 
hand,  and  we  contend  that  the  points  of 
similarity  between  the  rich  and  the  poor 
are  vastly  more  numerous  than  the 
points  of  distinction.  The  bible  suppo- 
ses them  placed  in  precisely  the  same 
mcjral  attitude;  so  that  whether  a  preach- 
er enter  into  a  palace  or  a  cottage,  he  is 
nothing  better  than  a  base  and  time- 
serving parasite  if  he  shape  his  message 
into  different  forms — the  Gospel  assum- 
ing not  variety  of  tone,  just  according 
as  the  audience  may  be  the  wealthy  and 
the  pampered,  or  the  ^indigent  and  the 
oppressed ;  but  speaking  unto  all  as 
beings  born  in  sin  and  shapen  in  iniquity, 
and  announcing  unto  all  the  same  free 
and  glorious  tidings,  that  "  God  hath 
made  Christ  to  be  sin  for  us,  who  knew 
no  sin,  that  we  might  be  made  the  right- 
eousness of  God  in  him." 

But  now  I  would  have  you  observe 
from  these  premises,  how  the  continu- 
ance of  poverty  has  subsei'ved  the  end 
of  displaying  the  comparative  worthless- 
tiess  of  earthly  possessions.  Men  ai'e  plac- 
ed on  widely  different  levels  when  viewed 
as  members  of  human  society  ;  but  they 
are  placed  on  identically  the  same  level 
when  regarded  as  heirs  of  immortality, — 
and  what  is  the  necessary  inference,  save 
ihat  when  eternity  is  brought  into  the 
account,  the  relative  advantages  of  life 
become  absolutely  evanescent  1  This 
simple  fact,  that  "  the  poor  we  have  al- 
ways with  us,"  furnishes  perpetually  a 
practical  exhibition,  such  as  might  other- 
wise have  in  vain  been  sought,  of  the  to- 
tal insignificance  of  things  the  most 
boasted,  and  the  most  prized,  and  the 
most  coveted.  For  just  suppose  a  con- 
trary arrangement.  Suppose  that  riches 
had  been  equally  distributed  so  that  it 
would  have  come  to  pass  that  the  poor 
we  had  not  always  with  us — why,  then, 
it  is  clear  that  the  Gospel  must  have 
been  stripped  of  that  surprising  radiance 
which  it  derives  from  overthx'owing  all 
mortal  differences,  and  gathering  into 
one  arena  of  nakedness  and  destitution 
the  monarch  and  the  cajjtive,  the  poten- 
tate and  the  beggar.     As  the  case  now 


stands,  we  learn  powerfully  the  worth- 
lessness  of  wealth  or  honor  in  the  si'dit 
of  the  Creator,  by  observing  that  he  who 
has  most  of  these  must  seek  the  salva- 
tion of  his  soul  by  precisely  the  same 
method  as  he  who  has  least — for  cer- 
tainly it  must  follow  from  this,  that  in 
the  eye  of  the  Creator  wealth  and  honor 
go  for  nothing.  But  then  it  is  the  con- 
tinuance of  poverty  which  furnishes 
this  proof,  and  conclusive  as  it  is,  we 
must  have  searched  for  it  in  vain  had  it 
not  been  appointed  that  "  the  poor  we 
should  have  always  with  us."  If  there 
were  any  alteration  in  this  fact,  so  that 
the  ranks  of  society  became  merged  and 
equalized,  we  deny  not  that  it  would  be 
equally  true,  that  "  riches  profit  nothing 
in  the  day  of  wrath ;  "  but  we  should  not 
have  possessed  the  like  ocular  demon- 
stration of  the  truth  ;  wo  fehould  have 
wanted  the  display  of  contrast.  When 
all  must  be  strijiped,  we  should  scarce- 
ly observe  that  any  were  strijjped  ;  and 
it  is  the  very  circumstance  that  there  are 
wide  temporal  distinctions  between  man 
and  man,  which  forces  on  our  attention 
the  stupendous  truth,  that  we  stand  on 
a  par  in  the  sight  of  the  Creator, 
yea,  on  the  level  of  a  hel2:>lessness, 
which  as  no  mortal  destitution  increas- 
es, so  neither  can  any  mortal  advantage 
diminish. 

I  would  pause  for  one  moment  to  press 
home  this  truth  upon  your  consciences. 
You  may  have  been  wont  to  derive 
moral  and  political  lessons  from  the  con- 
tinuance of  poverty,  but  have  you  ever 
yet  derived  this  vast  spiritual  lesson  1 
Have  you  used  the  temporal  destitution 
of  the  great  body  of  your  fellow-crea- 
tures as  an  overwhelming  evidence  to 
yf)urselves  of  the  divinity  of  salvation  ] 
We  tell  you  that  it  is  an  evidence  so 
decisive  and  incontrovertible,  that  if  a 
man  be  now  puffed  up  by  secular  ad- 
vantages, and  if  he  fancy  himself  ca- 
pable of  turning  those  advantages  into  a 
machinery  for  saving  the  soul,  he  may 
be  said  to  have  closed  his  eyes  to  the 
fact,  that  "  the  poor  we  have  always  with 
us  " — always — so  that  whatever  be  the 
height  to  which  civilizaticm  attains, 
whatever  the  spread  of  knowledge,  what- 
ever the  standard  of  morality,  poverty 
shall  always  continue  as  a  display  of  the 
riches  of  grace,  and  as  a  standing  me- 
morial that  "  not  by  might,  nor  by  power, 
but    by   my  spirit,    saith    the   Lord  of 


172 


SPITAL  SERMON. 


Hosts,"  shall  the  work  of  salvation  be 
accomplished. 

But  I  hasten  to  trace  out  certain 
other  results  which  the  continuance  of 
poverty  has  produced.  There  needs 
only  a  cursory  glance  in  order  to  our 
discerning,  that  the  fact  of  the  poor 
oeing  always  amongst  us,  has  given  free 
scope  for  the  growth  and  exercise  of 
christian  fjraces.  I  mitrhttake  the  cata- 
logueof  excellences  which  Scripture  pro- 
poses as  the  objects  of  our  aspirations, 
and  show  you  how  each  is  cradled,  so 
to  speak,  in  the  unevenness  and  diver- 
sity of  human  estate.  If  I  turn,  for 
examble,  to  faith,  it  will  be  conceded 
on  all  liands,  that  the  unequal  distribu- 
tion of  the  good  things  of  this  life  is 
calculated  to  occasion  perplexity  to  tlie 
pious,  and  that  there  is  a  difficulty  of  no 
slight  dimensions,  in  reconciling  the 
varieties  of  mortal  allotments  witli  the 
rigid  equity  of  God's  moral  government. 
We  can  master  the  difficulty  by  no 
other  process,  save  that  of  referring  to 
the  season  when  all  the  concerns  of  the 
universe  shall  be  wound  up,  and  when, 
by  a  most  august  developement,  the 
Judge,  who  sits  on  the  great  white  throne, 
shall  unravel  the  secrecies  of  every  dis- 
pensation. But  it  is  the  province  of 
faith,  and  that  too  of  faith  when  in  keen- 
est exercise,  thus  to  meet  the  discrepan- 
cies of  the  present  by  a  bold  appeal  to 
the  decisions  of  the  future.  And  if  it 
should  come  to  pass  that  there  were  no 
discrepancies,  which  would  be  compara- 
tively effected  if  the  poor  ceased  from 
amongst  us ;  then  who  perceives  not 
that  this  province  of  faith  would  be 
sensibly  circumscribed  1  The  problem 
with  which  it  is  now  most  arduous  to 
grapple,  and  by  the  grappling  with 
which  faith  is  upheld  in  its  vigor — the 
problem,  wherefore  does  a  merciful 
Creator  leave  in  wi-etched  destitution  so 
many  of  his  creatures — this  would  be 
necessarily  taken  out  of  our  investiga- 
tion— we  should  be  girt  about  with  the 
appearance  of  equable  dealings  in  this 
life,  and  should  seldom  therefore  be 
thrown  for  explanations  on  the  mysteries 
of  the  next.  And  I  know  not  what  con- 
sequence can  be  more  evident,  than 
that  a  huge  field  would  thus  be  closed 
against  the  exercises  of  faith,  a  field 
which  is  formed  in  its  length  and  in  its 
breadth  out  of  verification  of  our  text, 
that  "  the  pvov  we  have  always  with  us." 


But  yet  further.  If  there  were  to  be 
no  longer  any  poor,  then  it  is  evident 
that  each  one  amongst  us  would  be  in 
possession  of  a  kind  of  moral  certainty 
that  he  should  never  become  poor.  Pov- 
erty would  be  removed  from  the  number 
of  possible  human  conditions,  and  there 
would  be  an  end  at  once  to  those  inces- 
sant and  tremendous  fluctuations  which 
oftentimes  dash  the  prosperous  on  the 
rocks  and  the  quicksands.  ]>ut  now 
mark  how,  with  the  deparure  of  the  risk 
of  adversity,  would  depart  also  the  meek- 
ness of  our  dependence  on  the  Almigh- 
ty. We  might  instantly  remove  one 
petition  from  our  prayers,  *'  give  us  this 
day  our  daily  bread."  If  we  were  se- 
cure against  poverty,  which  we  shou»d 
be  if  poverty  had  ceased  from  the  earth, 
there  would  be  something  of  mockery  in 
soliciting  supplies,  whose  continuance 
was  matter  of  certainty  ;  and  thus,  by 
placing  man  out  of  the  reach  of  destitu- 
tion, you  would  go  far  to  annihilate  all 
those  motives  to  simple  reliance  which 
are  furnished  by  the  vacillations  of 
human  condition ;  you  would  destroy 
that  liveliness  which  is  now  the  result  of 
momentary  exercise  :  and  we  once  more 
contend,  that  for  the  delicacy  of  its  mi- 
nute, just  as  well  as  for  the  magnificence 
of  its  more  extended,  opeiations,  faith  is 
mainly  indebted  to  the  fact,  that  "  the 
poor  we  have  always  with  us." 

I  go  on  to  observe,  of  how  much  beau- 
ty we  should  strip  the  Gospel,  if  we 
stripped  the  world  of  poverty.  It  is  one 
of  the  prime  and  distinguishing  features 
of  the  character  of  Deity,  as  revealed  to 
us  in  Scripture,  that  the  poor  man,  just 
as  well  as  the  rich  man,  is  the  object  of 
his  watchfulness  :  that,  with  an  atten- 
tion undistracted  by  the  multiplicity  of 
comjilex  concernments,  he  bows  himself 
dowji  to  the  cry  of  the  meanest  outcast ; 
so  that  there  is  not  a  smile  upon  a  poor 
man's  cheek,  and  there  is  not  a  tear  in 
a  poor  man's  eye,  which  passes  any 
more  unheeded  by  our  God,  than  if  the 
individual  were  a  monarch  on  his  throne, 
and  thousands  crouched  in  vassalage 
before  him.  We  allow  that  when 
thought  has  busied  itself  in  traversing 
the  circuits  of  creation,  shooting  rapidly 
from  one  to  another  of  those  sparkling 
systems  which  crowd  immensity,  and 
striving  to  scrutinize  the  ponderous 
mechanism  of  a  universe,  each  depart- 
ment of  which  is  full  of  the  harmonies 


SPITAL   SERMON. 


173 


jf  glorious  order, — we  allow  that,  after 
so  sublime  a   research,  it  is  diflicult  to 
bring  down  the  mind  to  the  belief,  that 
the  affairs  of  an  individual,  and  seem- 
ingly iiisiguiticant  race,  are  watched  over 
with    as    careful  a  solicitude   as  if  that 
race    were    the   sole   tenant  of  infinite 
space,  and  this  our  globe  as  much  cover- 
ed by  the  wing  of  the  Omnipotent,  as  if 
it  had  no  associates  in  wheeling  round 
his  throne.     Yet  when  even  this  belief 
is  attained,    the  contemplation  has  not 
risen  to  one  Iialf  of  its  augustness.    We 
must  break  up  the  race  piecemeal,  we 
must  take  man  by  man,  and  woman  by 
woman,    and  child   by  child — we  must 
observe  that  to  no  two  individuals  are 
there  assigned  circumstances  in    eveiy 
respect  similar ;  but  that  each  is  a  kind 
of  world  by  himself,  with  his  own  allot- 
ments, his  own  trials,  his  own  mercies  : 
and  then  only  do  we  reach  the  climax  of 
what  is  beautiful  and  strange,  when  we 
parcel  out  our  species  into  its  separate 
units,  and  decide  that  not  one  of  these 
units  is    overlooked  by  the  Almighty  : 
but    that  just  as    it  is  the   same  hand 
which  paints  the  enamel  of  a  flower  and 
guides  the  rolling  of  a  planet,  so  it  is  the 
same  guardianship  which  regulates  the 
rise  and  fall  of  empires,  and  leads  the 
most  unknown  mdividual,  when  he  goeth 
forth  to  seek  his  daily  bread.     Now  v/ho 
perceives  not  that,  by  removing  the  poor 
altogether  from  amongst  us,  we  should 
greatly  obscure  this  amazing  exhibition  '? 
The  spectacle  which  is  most  calculated 
to  arrest  us,  and  to  fill  the  vision  with 
touching  delineations  of  Deity,  is  that 
of  earthly  destitution  gilded  by  the  sun- 
shine of  celestial  consolation, — the  spec- 
tacle of  a  child  of  want  and  misfortune, 
laden   with  all  those  ills  Avhich  were  be- 
queathed to  man  by  a  rebellious  ances 
try,   and  nevertheless    sustained  by   so 
elastic  and   unearthly   a  vigor,  that   he 
can  walk  cheerily  through  the  midst  of 
trouble,  and  maintain  a  deep  and  rich 
trancpjillity,  whilst  the  huriicane  is  beat- 
ing furiously  upon  him.     But,  compar- 
atively, there  could  be  no  such  spectacle 
if  there  came  an  end  to  the  appointment, 
that  the  poor  we  have  always  with  us. 
Take  away  poverty,  and  a  veil  is  thrown 
over  the  perfections  of  the    Godhead  ; 
for  we  could  not  know  our  Maker  in  the 
fulness  of  his  compassions,  if  we  knew 
him  not  as  a  helper  in  the  extremities  of 
mortal  desertion.     It  is  given  as  one  of 


the  attestations  of  the  Messias-ship  of 
Jesus,  that  "  unto  the  poor  the  Gospel 
was  preached  ;  "  and  we  conclude  from 
this,  as  well  as  from  the  features  of  the 
Gospel  in  itself,  that  there  is  a  peculiar 
adaptation  in  the  messages  of  the  J^ible 
to  the  circumstances  of  those  who  have 
but  little  of  this  world's    goods.     And 
what  need  is  there  of  argument  to  prove, 
that  never  does  this  Gospel  put  on  an 
aspect  of  greater  loveliness,  than  when 
it  addresses  itself  to  the  outcast  and  the 
destitute  ?      One    might    almost    have 
thought  that  it  had  been  framed  for  the 
express  purpose  of  ministering  to  the 
happiness  of  the  poor.     Unto  the  men, 
indeed,  of  every  station  it  delivers  pre- 
cepts which  may  regulate  their  duties, 
and  promises  which  may  nerve  them  to 
their  discharge  ;  but  then  it  is  that  the 
Gospel  appears  under  its  most  radiant 
form,  when  it  enters  the  hovel  of  the  pea- 
sant, and  lights  up  that  hovel  with  glad- 
ness, and  fans  the  cheek  of  the  sick  man 
with  anf^els'  winafs,  and  causes  the  crust 
of  bread   and  the  cruse  of  water  to  be 
received   as  a  banquet  of  luxury,   and 
brings  into  the  wretched  chamber  such 
a  retinue  of  ministering  spirits,  that  he 
whom  his  fellow-men  have  loathed  and 
abandoned,   rises  into  the  dignity  of  a 
being  whom  the  Almighty  delighted  to 
honor.     Oh,  verily  the  brilliant  triumph 
of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is 
won  from  the  career  of  a  man  who  pro- 
fesses godliness  in  poverty.     The  world 
despises  him,  but  he  is  lifted  above  the 
world,  and  sits  in  heavenly  places  with 
Christ ;  he  has  none  of  the  treasures  of 
the  earth,  but  the  pearl  of  great  price  he 
hath  made  his  own  :  hunger  and  thirst 
he  may  be    compelled   to    endure,    but 
there  is  hidden  manna  of  which  he  eats, 
and  there  are  living  streams  of  which  he 
drinks  :  he  is  worn  down  by  perpetual 
toil,   and   yet  he  hath   already   entered 
into  rest, — "  persecuted,    but  not   for- 
saken ;  cast  down,  but  not  destroyed." 
Make  poverty  as  hideous  as  it  can  ever 
be  made  by  the  concentration  of  a  hun- 
dred woes, — let  it  be  a  torn,  and  degrade 
ed,  and  scorned,  and  reviled  estate, — 
still  can  he  be  poor  of  whom  it  is  said, 
that  "  all  things  are  his, — the  world,  or 
life,  or  death,  or  things  present,  or  things 
to  come, — all  are  his,  for  he  is  Christ's, 
and  Christ  is  God's  1  "     We  call  this  the 
brilliant  triumph  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ ; 
a  triumph  from  the  study  of  which  may 


174 


SPITAL  SERMON. 


be  gathered  the  finest  lessons  of  Chris- 
tianity ;  a  triumph  over  all  with  which  it 
is  hardest  fur  religion  to  grapple.  And 
if  it  be  a  stupendous  characteristic  of  the 
Gospel,  that  it  adajits  itself  to  every  pos- 
sible emergency,  that  it  provides  largely 
for  all  the  exiirencies  of  human  beinjrs  : 
and  if  it  be  moreover  true,  that  certain 
graces  are  peculiarly  exercised  by  pov- 
erty, which  would  be  comparatively  un- 
called for  amid  the  comforts  of  affluence, 
then  we  may  fairly  make  it  matter  of 
thanksgiving  to  God,  that  "  the  poor  we 
have  always  with  us,"  seeing  that  if  they 
had  ceased  from  amongst  us,  half  the 
glories  of  revelation  must  have  been 
shut  up  in  darkness,  and  the  magnifi- 
cence of  the  power  of  the  Gospel  would 
never  have  been  measured,  and  the  love- 
liness of  the  influences  of  the  Gospel 
never  been  estimated. 

But  itf  is  time  that  I  gather  to  a  close 
this  suiTey  of  the  ends  which  the  con- 
tinuance of  poverty  has  subserved,  and 
I  shall  therefore  only  add  one  more  to 
the  catalogue,  but  that  especially  connect- 
ed with  the  occasion  of  this  our  assem- 
bling. The  distinction  of  society  into  the 
poor  and  rich,  introduces  a  large  class  of 
relative  duties,  which  would  have  no  ex- 
istence, if  "  the  poor  were  not  always 
amongst  us."  It  cannot  be  called  an  over- 
charged picture,  if  I  declare  that  the  re- 
moval of  poverty  would  go  far  towards 
debasing  and  uncivilizing  Christendom  ; 
and  that  a  sudden  and  uniform  distribu- 
tion of  wealth  would  throw  us  centuries 
back  in  the  march  of  moral  improvement. 
The  great  beauty  of  that  state  of  things 
which  our  text  depicts  is,  that  men  are 
dependent  one  upon  the  other,  and  that 
occasions  perpetually  present  themselves 
which  call  into  exercise  the  charities  of 
life.  We  need  only  remind  you  of  the 
native  selfishness  of  the  human  heart,  a 
selfishness  which  is  never  completely 
eradicated,  but  which,  after  years  of  pa- 
tient resistance,  will 'Creep  in  and  deform 
the  most  disinterested  generosity.  And 
we  ask  you  whether, — so  far  at  least  as 
our  arithmetic  is  capable  of  computing, 
• — this  selfishness  would  not  have  reigned 
well  nigh  unmolested,  had  the  world  been 
quite  cleared  of  spectacles  of  destitution, 
and  if  each  man  had  been  left  without 
call  to  assist  his  brethren,  seeing  that 
his  brethren  were  in  possession  of  advan- 
tages setting  them  free  from  all  need  of 
assistance  1     According  to  the  present 


constitution,  men  are  necessarily  brought 
into  collision  with  distress ;  and  the  ef- 
fect of  the  contact  is  to  soften  down  those 
asperities  whicii  deform  the  natural  cha- 
racter, and  to  plane  away  that  lugged- 
ncss  which  marks  the  surface  of  the  un- 
trodden rock.  But  if  there  had  been  no 
physical  wretchedness  with  which  such 
collision  could  take  place,  then  it  appears 
to  me  evident  that  selfishness  would  havo 
been  left  to  grow  up  into  a  giant  stature, 
and  that  the  granite  of  the  soul,  which, 
though  hard,  may  be  chiselled,  would 
have  turned  into  adamant,  and  defied  all 
impressions. 

Let  the  poor  be  no  longer  amongst  us, 
and  you  dry  up,  so  far  as  we  can  judge, 
the  scanty  fountains  of  sympathy  which 
still  bubble  in  the  desert.  By  removing 
exciting  causes  of  compassion,  you 
would  virtually  sweep  away  all  kindliness 
from  the  earth  ;  and  by  making  the  child- 
ren of  men  independent  on  each  other, 
you  would  wrap  up  every  one  in  his  own 
passions  and  his  own  pursuits,  and  send 
him  out  to  be  alone  in  a  multitude,  and 
thus  reduce  the  creatures  of  the  same 
species  into  so  many  centres  of  repul- 
sion, scornfully  withstanding  the  ap- 
proaches of  companionship.  There  is  no 
aspect  under  which  our  text  can  be  pre-, 
scnted  more  worthy  of  your  serious  con- 
templation than  this.  The  relative  duties, 
of  which  poverty  is  the  parent,  are  those 
whose  discharge  is  most  humanizing  to 
the  rich,  and  at  the  same  time  most  edi- 
fying to  the  poor.  The  higher  classes 
of  society  are  naturally  tempted  to  )ook 
down  upon  the  lower,  and  the  lower  are 
as  naturally  tempted  to  envy  the  higher  ; 
so  that  the  distinctions  of  rank  make  way 
for  the  trial  of  humility  in  one  case  and 
of  contentment  in  the  other.  But  if  there 
be  truth  in  this  reasoning  ;  if  there  be  a 
direct  tendency  in  the  mixture  of  vaiious 
conditions  to  the  smoothing  the  rough- 
ness of  the  human  spirit,  and  to  the  ciier- 
ishing  of  virtues  most  essential  to  our 
well-being  ;  then  may  we  not  once  more 
call  upon  you  to  admire  the  wisdom  of 
the  Almighty's  dispensations,  inasmuch 
as  it  is  appointed  by  the  purposes  of  hea- 
ven, that  we  should  "have  the  poor  al- 
ways amongst  us  1 " 

Now,  having  traced  certain  of  the  ends 
which  are  decidedly  subserved  by  the 
continuance  of  poverty,  it  remains  that 
I  speak  briefly  on  our  other  topics  of  dis- 
course.    1  may  observe  that  the  oonsid- 


SPITAL  SERMON. 


175 


eration  suggested  in  the  second  clause  of 
our  text  follows,  with  great  force,  on  the 
review  in  which  we  liave  been  engaged. 
There  is  a  moral  benefit  conferred  upon 
society  by  our  having  "the  poor  always 
with  us;"  but  if  we  further  remember, 
that  Christ  is  witli  us  in  the  persons  of 
his  destitute  brethen,  so  that  in  minister- 
ing to  them  we  minister  to  him,  then 
the  varieties  of  mortal  estate  pass  before 
us  under  a  spiritual  aspect,  and  we  find 
in  poverty  a  storehouse  of  the  motives  of 
Christianity. 

It  is  here  that  I  take  my  stand,  with  a 
view  to  the  duty  now  intrusted  to  my 
care.    The  noble  institutions  which  I  am 
required  to  recommend  to  your  contin- 
ued support,  are  so  many  monuments  of 
the  trui.h  that  "the  poor  we  have  always 
with  us."      I  trust  1  may  add,  that  the 
careful  and  liberal  patronage  which  they 
have    hitherto   received,   has    emanated 
from  a  sense  of  love  to  the  Redeemer  ; 
and  that  the  zeal  with  which  they  shall 
hereafter  be  upheld,  will  flow  from  no 
inferior  origin.     He  who  endows  a  hos- 
pital, thinking    to  win  favor  with  God 
through  this  his  munificence,  rears,  like 
the  Egyptian  monarchs,  a  pyramid  for 
his  sepulchre,  but  leaves  his  soul  without 
one  secret  chamber  wherein  she  may  be 
safe  fi-om  the  sleet  of  eternal  indignation. 
We  would  press  this  matter  iipon  you 
with  all  the  fidelity  that  its  importance 
demands.     The  soul  is  not  to  be  saved 
by  any,  the  most  costly,  giving  of  alms. 
Sea  and  land  may  be  compassed,  and  the 
limbs  be  macerated  by  penance,  and  the 
strength  worn  down  by  painful  attiition, 
and  the  wealth  be  lavished  in  feeding  the 
hungry,  and  clothing    the  naked  ;   and, 
iievertlieless,  the  wrath  of  God  be  no 
more  averted  than  if  the  life  were  passed 
in  bold  contempt  of  his  name  and  attri- 
butes. "  Other  foundation  can  no  man  lay 
than  that  is  laid,  which  is  Jesus  Christ ;  " 
and  they  who  have  entered  heaven,  climb- 
ed that  lofty  eminence  not  by  piles  of 
gold  and  silver  which  they  consecrated 
to  Jehovah, — not  by  accumulated  deeds 
of  legal  obedience, — but  simply  by  the 
cross  of  the  Redeemer,  putting  faith  in 
the  blood  and  righteousness  of  Him"  who 
died,  the  just  for  the  unjust,  that  he  might 
bring  us  unto  God." 

But  when  the  heart  is  occupied  by  this 
heaven-born  principle  of  faith,  there  will 
be  an  immediate  kindling  of  love  towards 
the  Author  of  redemption ;  and  works  of 


benevolence,  which  sit  as  an  incubus  on 
the  soul  so  long  as  they  are  accounted 
meritorious,  will  be  wrought  as  the  natur- 
al produce  of  a  grateful  and  devoted  af- 
fection. If  there  be  indeed  within  us 
the  love  of  Him  who  hath  loved  us  and 
given  himself  for  us,  then  shall  we  be  ea- 
ger to  support  the  foundations  of  a  God- 
fearing ancestry,  not  through  the  bloated 
and  deceitful  expectation  that  the  glories 
of  futurity  are  to  be  purchased  by  atten- 
tion to  the  necessitous,  but  simply  in  con- 
formity with  the  apostolical  maxim,  "  Be- 
loved, if  God  so  loved  us,  Ave  ought  also 
to  love  one  another." 

The  poor  we  have  always  with  us,  and 
thus  have  wc  always  abounding  oppor- 
tunities of  testifying  our  dedication  to 
Him  who  is  brought  near  by  faith,  though 
removed  from  sight,  and  who  hath  linked 
himself  in  ties  of  such  close  brotherhood 
with  mankind  that  he  sympathizes  with 
the  meanest  of  the  race.  Upon  the  plat- 
form of  love  to  the  Redeemer  do  we  take 
our  stand,  when  recommending  to  your 
generous  care  those  several  Hospitals 
whose  institution  it  is  the  business  of  this 
day's  service  to  commemorate.  I  shall 
pause  while  the  report  of  their  proceed- 
ings during  the  past  year  is  read  to  you, 
and  then  wind  up  my  discourse  by  a  brief 
exposition  of  their  claims  upon  public 
benevolence. 


Various  and  multiform  are  the  ills 
which  the  charities,  whose  report  you 
have  now  heard,  set  themselves  to  alle- 
viate. The  burden  of  poverty  is  suffi- 
ciently heavy,  even  whilst  the  animal 
frame  is  not  wasted  by  the  inroads  of 
sickness.  But  when  disease  hath  laid  its 
hand  upon  the  body,  and  the  strength  is 
fretted  by  pining  maladies,  then  espe- 
cially it  is  that  penury  is  hard  to  bear  ; 
and  the  man  who  has  wrestled  bravely 
against  want,  whilst  there  was  vigor  in 
his  limbs  and  play  in  his  muscles,  sinks 
down  wearied  and  disconsolate,  when  the 
organs  of  life  are  clogged  and  impeded. 
Who  would  refuse  to  stretch  out  the  hand 
of  kindness,  succoring  the  afflicted  in  this 
their  hour  of  aggravated  bitterness  ? 
Who  could  be  callous  enough  to  the  woes 
of  humanity,  to  be  slow  in  providing  that 
all  which  the  skill  and  the  wisdom  of 
man  can  eflect,  towards  lightening  the 
pressure  of  sickness,  may  be  placed  with- 
in the  reach  of  those  who  must  otherwise 


176 


SPITAL  SERMON. 


waste  away  in  unmitigated  suffering? 
Who,  in  short,  could  he  bold  enough  to 
call  liimselt"  a  man,  and  yet  give  himself 
up  to  a  churlish  indiflerence  as  to  whe- 
ther the  pains  of  his  destitute  brethren 
were  assuaged  by  the  arts  of  medical 
science,  or  whether  those  brethren  were 
left  to  the  gnawings  of  racking  disease, 
with  no  pillow  for  the  aching  head,  with 
no  healing  draught  for  the  writhing  ema- 
ciated frame  ?  One  malady  there  is — the 
greatest,  I  may  call  it,  to  which  flesh  is 
heir,  the  unhappy  subjects  of  which  have 
a  more  than  common  claim  on  benevo- 
lence. It  is  much  that  accident  and  sick- 
ness should  befall  the  body  ;  but  the  cli- 
max of  affliction  is  not  reached  until  the 
mind  itself  is  out  of  joint.  So  long  as 
the  soul  retains  possession  of  her  capa- 
cities, man,  however  assaulted,  however 
agonized,  falls  not  from  his  rank  in  the 
scale  of  creation,  but  rather,  by  display- 
ing the  sujieriority  of  the  immortal  over 
the  mortal,  proves  himself  the  denizen  of 
a  mightier  sphere.  Man  is,  then,  most 
illustrious  and  most  dignified,  when  his 
spiritual  part  rises  up  unshattered  amid 
the  ruins  of  the  coporeal,  and  gives  wit- 
ness of  destinies  coeval  with  eternity,  by 
showing  an  independence  on  the  corrod 
ings  of  lime.  But  when  the  battery  of 
attack  has  been  turned  upon  the  mind, 
when  reason  has  been assaidted  and  huil- 
ed  from  her  throne,  oh  !  then  ii  is  that 
the  spectacle  of  human  distresrj  >>•  one 
upon  which  even  the  beings  of  a  ni^her 
intelligence  than  our  own  may  look  sad- 
ly and  pitifully;  for  the  link  of  commun- 
ion with  the  long  hereafter  seems  thus 
almost  dissevered,  and  that  pledge  of  an 
unbounded  duration, — a  pledge  of  which 
no  bodily  decay  can  spoil  us — a  pledge 
which  is  won  by  the  soul  out  of  the 
breakings  up  of  bone  and  sinew — for  a 
while  is  torn  away  from  man,  and  he  re- 
mains the  fearful  nondescrijJt  of  creation, 
duat  lit  up  Deity,  and  yet  Deity  lost  in 
dust. 

Ye  cannot  be  lukewarm  in  the  sup- 
port of  an  institution  which,  like  one  of 
those  whose  foundation  we  are  met  to 
commemorate,  tluows  open  its  gates  to 
the  subjects  of  this  worst  of  calamities, 
and  it  were  to  transgress  the  due  bounds 
of  my  office,  if  I  should  insist  further  on 
the  claims  fjf  those  Hosj>itals  which  have 
been  reared  for  the  pur[)Ose  of  mitigat- 
ing the  ills  attendant  on  bodily  or  mental 
disease. 


But  as  the  citizens  of  a  great  metro- 
polis, you  have  a  duty  to  perform  in 
watching  the  moral  health  of  an  over- 
grown population.  It  becomes  you  to 
apply  w  holcsome  correctives  to  a  spread- 
ing dissolution  of  manners,  and  to  adopt 
such  processes  in  dealing  with  the  vi- 
cious and  disorderly,  as  seem  best  calcu- 
lated to  arrest  the  contagion.  There 
would  be  a  grievous  deficiency  in  the 
establishment  of  this  gigantic  city,  if  it 
numbered  not  amongst  its  hospitals,  one 
especially  set  apart  to  the  reception  of 
the  vagrant  and  the  dissolute.  The  be- 
ginnings of  crime  must  be  diligently 
checked,  if  we  wish  to  presei-%'e  sound- 
ness in  our  population  ;  and  the  best  leg- 
islation is  that  which,  by  dealing  stren- 
uously witli  minor  offences,  employs  the 
machinery  most  calculated  to  prevent  the 
commission  of  greater. 

But  I  turn  gladly  to  the  claims  of  an 
institution  which  can  need  no  advocacy 
from  the  pi'eacher's  lips,  seeing  that  the 
objects  who  are  sheltered  beneath  its 
munificent  protection,  surround  me,  and 
plead  eloquently,  though  silently,  their 
own  cause.  Founded  and  fostered  by  the 
princes  of  the  land,  the  hospital,  which 
bears  the  name  of  Him  who  died  as  our 
surety,  constitutes  one  of  the  prime  or- 
naments of  this  emporium  of  wealth  and 
greatness.  Equalled  by  no  other  insti- 
tution in  the  number  of  those  for  whose 
education  and  maintenance  it  provides, 
and  excelled  by  none  in  the  soundness 
of  the  learning  which  it  communicates 
pass  not  the  strictness  of  truth  when  x 
affirm,  that  he  who  would  exhibit  the 
splendor  of  British  philanthi'opy  should 
take  his  station  in  this  pulpit,  and  point 
to  the  right  hand  and  to  the  left.  We 
have  here  a  large  multitude  of  the  rising 
generation  trained  up  in  those  piinciples 
which  are  calculated,  under  God's  bless- 
ing, to  make  them  valuable  members  of 
the  community ;  and  such  is  the  course 
of  their  education,  that  whilst  many  are 
fitted  to  fill  stations  in  the  various  depart- 
ments of  trade,  others  are  prepaied  lr)r 
the  higher  studies  of  a  university,  and 
thus  introduced  to  the  most  solcnni  oc- 
cu])ationsof  life.  Who  can  behold  such 
a  number  of  his  fellow-creatures,  each 
with  the  dew  of  his  youth  just  fresh  up- 
on him,  and  not  rejoice  that  the  early 
years  of  tlieir  lives  are  thus  shielded  and 
cherished  ]  Who  can  remark  how  each 
bears  upon  his   breast  those  animating 


8PITAL  SERMON. 


177 


words,  "He  is  risen,"  and  not  desire  that 
these  young  heirs  of  immortality  may 
grow  up  into  manhood,  rooted  in  the 
♦aith  of  Him  who  is  "the  Resurrection 
and  the  Life,"  and  showing  that  they 
themselves  are  "risen  with  Christ,"  by 
"seeking  those  things  which  are  above, 
where  Clirist  sitteth  at  the  right  hand  of 
God  ? "  The  snows  of  a  polar  winter 
must  rest  upon  the  heart  which  throbs 
not  with  emotion  at  surveying  so  many 
born  in  troublous  times,  who,  with  all  the 
airy  expectancies  of  youthful  and  untried 
spirits,  must  go  out  into  the  walks  of  so- 
ciety, in  days  when  they  are  more  than 
commonly  swept  by  the  chilling  blights 
of  sce2)ticism  and  vice. 

Unnecessary  though  I  deem  it  to  dwell 
at  any  length  on  the  duty  of  supporting 
this  venerable  establishment,  yet  would 
I  speak  affectionately  to  you  who  are  its 
inmates,  and  conjure  you,  "  if  there  be 
any  virtue,  and  if  there  be  any  praise,"  to 
"remember  your  Creator  in  the  days  of 
your  youth."  Whilst  you  are  still  stran- 
gers to  the  seductions  of  an  ensnaring 
world,  I  would  warn  you  against  the  evils 
which  will  gird  you  round  when  you  go 
forth  from  the  peaceful  asylum  of  your 
childhood,  and  mix,  as  you  unavoidably 
must,  with  those  who  lie  in  wait  to  de- 
stroy the  unwary.  I  would  tell  you  that 
there  is  no  happiness  but  in  the  fear  of 
the  Almighty  ;  that  if  you  would  so  pass 
through  life  as  not  to  tremble  and  quail 
at  the  approach  of  death,  make  it  your 
morning  and  your  evening  prayer,  that 
the  Holy  Spirit  may  take  possession  of 
your  souls  and  lead  you  so  to  love  the 
Lord  Jesus  in  sincerity,  that  you  may 
not  be  allured  from  the  holiness  of  re- 
ligion by  any  of  the  de\'ices  of  a  wicked 
generation.  Ye  read  in  your  classical 
stories  of  a  monarch  who  wept  af5  his 
countless  army  passed  before  him,  stag- 
gered by  the  thought,  that  yet  a  few 
years,  and  those  stirring  hosts  would  lie 
motionless  in  the  chambers  of  the  grave. 
Might  not  a  christian  minister  weep  over 
you,  as  he  gazes  on  the  freshness  of  your 
days,  and  considers  that  it  is  but  too  pos- 
sible, that  you  may  hereafter  give  ear  to 
the  scorner  and  the  seducer.  Thus 
might  the  buds  of  early  promise  be  nip- 
ped ;  and  it  might  come  to  pass,  that  you, 
the  children,  it  may  be,  of  pious  parents, 
over  whose  infancy  a  godly  father  may 
have  watched,  and  whose  opening  hours 
may  have  been  guarded  by  the  tender 
23 


solicitudes  of  a  righteous  mother,  would 
entail  on  yourselves  a  heritage  of  shame, 
and  go  down  at  the  judgment  into  the 
pit  of  the  unbeliever  and  the  profligate. 
Let  this  warning  word  be  remembered 
by  you  all :  it  is  simple  enough  for  the 
youngest,  it  is  important  enough  for  the 
eldest.  You  cannot  begin  too  soon  to 
serve  the  Lord,  but  you  may  easily  put 
it  off  too  long;  and  the  thing  which  will 
be  least  regretted  when  you  come  to  die 
is,  that  you  gave  the  first  days  of  exist- 
ence to  preparation  for  heaven. 

But  I  refrain  from  enlarging  further. 
I  have  touched  briefly  on  the  respective 
claims  to  support  of  those  noble  institu- 
tions which  have  been  founded  amongst 
us  by  the  piety  of  our  forefathers  :  I  add 
only  that  the  times  in  which  we  live  are 
full  of  perplexity  and  danger.  The  na- 
tions of  the  world  heave  and  swell  like  the 
waters  of  a  stormy  ocean.  There  is  go- 
ins:  forth  through  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  earth  a  restlesss  and  a  revolution- 
ary spirit :  and  these,  our  islands,  which 
have  hitherto  been  curtained  by  the  wing 
of  an  especial  protection,  seem  not  alto- 
gether unvisited  by  the  perils  which 
weave  themselves  around  other  lands. 
What  then  shall  we  do  but  arise  in  the 
strength  of  the  Lord,  and  give  ourselves 
strenuously  to  every  labor  which  may  im- 
prove the  moral  and  physical  condition 
of  our  people,  and  strive,  as  befits  those 
who  are  alive  to  the  startling  aspect  of 
the  world,  so  to  surround  ourselves  with 
the  machinery  of  christian  benevolence, 
that  we  may  repel  the  aggressions  of  in- 
fidel hardihood  1  Let  there  be  no  clos- 
ing our  eyes  to  the  difficulties  by  which 
we  are  environed ;  let  there  be  no  giv- 
ing ear  to  the  unhallowed  speculations 
of  a  specious  liberalism,  which  would 
show  us  new  ways  to  national  greatness 
and  national  renown,  over  the  wreck  of 
all  that  hath  been  held  most  sacred  by 
our  ancestry.  If  England  wish  to  pi-e- 
serve  her  might  amongst  the  nations,  let 
her  sons  and  her  daughters  confess  their 
transgressions  and  rejient  them  of  their 
sins  ;  let  covetousness — the  curse  and 
darling  of  commercial  cities,  be  abhor- 
red, and  lust  z-enounced,  and  ambition 
mortified,  and  every  bold  working  of  im- 
piety chased  from  amongst  them ;  and 
let  them,  covered  with  the  sackcloth  of 
deep  humiliation,  bind  themselves  in  a 
holy  league  for  the  advancement  of  the 
purposes  of  an  enlarged  philanthropy. 


178 


SPITAL   SERMON. 


Then,  and  not  till  then,  may  the  hope 
be  cherished,  that  the  puHtical  hunicanes 
which  shake  the  dynasties  of  Europe, 
shall  leave  unscathed  (jur  island  sove- 
reignty ;  and  that  whilst  the  rushing  of 
a  wrathful  deluge  dash  away  the  land- 
marks of  foreign  stales,  Britain  may  lift 
her  white  clills  above  the  surges,  and 
rise  amid  the  eddies  like  Mount  Ararat 
from  out  the  ILjod.  "  The  poor  you  have 
always  with  you  :"  meet  their  spiritual 
and  temporal  necessities  w  ith  the  alaci-i- 
ty  and  zeal  which  become  the  followers 
of  Christ;  be  yourselves  men  of  prayer, 
and,  so  far  as  your  influence  extends^lead 


others  to  \vrestle  with  the  Almighty  ;  and 
then,  oh  tell  us  not  that  England's  great- 
ness hath  touched  its  zenith  ;  ask  us 
not  for  the  lament  which  may  be  wailed 
over  her  departed  majesty, — home  of 
mercy,  home  of  piety,  thou  shalt  still  con- 
tinue the  home  of  plenty,  the  home  of 
peace ;  the  sunshine  of  heaven's  choice 
favor  shall  sleep  upon  thy  fields,  and 
the  blithe  music  of  contentment  be 
heard  in  thy  valleys  ;  for  "happy  is  that 
people  that  is  in  such  a  case,  yea,  bless- 
ed is  that  people  whose  God  is  the 
Lord." 


SERMONS 


PREACHED  IN  GREAT  ST.  MARY'S  CHURCH,  CAMBRIDGE  j 

AT  THE  EVENING  LECTURE  IN  FEBRUARY,  1336  AND  1837. 


18  3  6. 


SERMON. 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  SALVATION  AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  THE 
PERIL  OF  ITS  NEGLECT. 


"  How  shall  we  escape,  if  we  neglect  so  great  salvation ! "— Hebrews,  it.  3. 


There  is  nothing  affirmed  in  these 
words,  but  the  greatness  of  the  salvation 
proposed  fey  the  Gospel ;  and  from  this 
greatness  seems  inferred  the  impossibil- 
ity of  escape,  if  we  neglect  the  salvation. 
And  there  is,  we  think,  surprising  force 
in  the  question  of  our  text,  when  nothing 
but  the  stupendousness  of  salvation  is 
regarded  as  our  proof,  that  to  neglect  it 
is  to  perish.  It  is  a  minister's  duty, 
whether  addressing  his  own  congrega- 
tion, or  those  to  whom  he  is  compara- 
tively a  stranger,  to  strive  by  every  pos- 
sible motive  to  stir  his  hearers  to  the 
laying  hold  on  salvation,  that  so,  what- 
ever their  final  poition,  he  may  be  free 
from  their  blood.  And  therefore  are  we 
desirous  to  press  you  this  night  for  an 
answer  to  the  question,  "  How  shall  we 
escape,  if  we  neglectso  great  salvation  V 
We  wish  you  honestly  to  examine,  whe- 
ther the  magnitude  of  redemption  be  not 
of  itself  an  overcoming  demonstration 
that  ruin  must  follow  its  neglect.  We 
would  keep  you  close  to  this  point.    The 


power  of  the  question  lies  in  this — tha 
peril  of  the  neglect  proved  by  the  great- 
ness of  the  salvation. 

And  we  are  sure  that  there  are  many 
striking  considerations,  flowing  from  the 
fact  that  the  salvation  is  so  great,  which 
must  force  you  to  admit  the  impossibil- 
ity of  escape  asserted  by  St.  Paul.  We 
shall  necessarily,  as  we  proceed,  descend 
so  far  into  particulars,  as  to  take  by 
themselves  certain  elements  of  the  great- 
ness in  question.  But,  whatever  the  con- 
stituent parts  into  which  we  may  resolve 
salvation,  it  must  be  simply  as  great  that 
we  exhibit  this  salvation  ;  and  from  the 
greatness,  and  from  this  alone,  must  we 
prove  that  none  can  escape  who  neglect 
the  salvation.  You  see  clearly  that  the 
peculiarity  of  the  passage  lies  in  this, 
that  it  infers  the  peril  of  the  neglect  from 
the  greatness  of  the  salvation.  And  in 
laboring  at  illustrating  the  accuracy  of 
this  inference,  and  the  pressing  on  you 
your  consequent  danger  if  careless  of 
the  soul,  we  shall  attempt  nci  other  ar- 


180 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  SALVATION  AN 


rangement  of  our  discourse,  but  that 
which  will  set  before  you  in  succession, 
certain  respects  in  which  salvation  is 
great,  and  use  each  successive  exhibi- 
tion a3  a  proof,  that  to  despise  what  is 
thus  great,  must  be  to  make  sure  de- 
struction. 

Now  if  we  were  arguing  with  an 
atheist,  the  man  who  disbelieves  the  ex- 
istence of  a  God ;  and  if  we  desired  to 
convince  him  on  this,  the  fundamental 
article  of  all  religion,  we  should  probably 
endeavor  to  reason  up  from  the  creation 
to  the  Creator,  using  the  traces  of  an 
intelligent  cause,  by  which  we  seem 
surrounded,  in  proof  that  a  mightier 
architect  than  chance  constructed  our 
dwelling.  But  we  are  quite  aware  that 
our  adversary  might  demand  a  demon- 
stration, that  nothing  short  of  an  infinite 
power  could  have  builded  and  furnished 
this  planet ;  and  we  are  not  perhaps 
well  able  to  define  at  what  point  the 
finite  must  cease,  and  the  infinite  com- 
mence. It  may  be  conceded  that  certain 
results  lie  beyond  human  agency,  and 
yet  disputed  whether  they  need  such  an 
agency  as  we  strictly  call  divine.  What 
men  could  not  produce,  might  possibly 
be  produced  by  beings  mightier  than  men, 
and  yet  those  beings  stop  far  short  of 
Omnipotence. 

We  do  not,  therefore,  think  of  main- 
taining, that  the  evidences  of  wisdom 
and  power,  graven  on  this  creation,  are 
the  strongest  which  can  be  even  con- 
ceived. On  the  contrary,  we  will  not 
pretend  to  deny  that  we  can  imagine 
them  greatly  multiplied  and  strengthen- 
ed. It  is  manifest,  that  the  keener  our 
facullies,  and  the  more  earnest  our  inves- 
tigation, the  clearer  do  these  evidences 
appear ;  for  there  is  no  comparison  be- 
tween those  ap{)rehensions  of  the  works 
of  creation  which  the  man  of  science  has, 
and  those  within  reach  of  the  illiterate 
observer.  And,  therefore,  it  is  quite 
conceivable  that  there  might  be  either 
such  a  communication  of  more  powerful 
faculties,  or  such  a  laying  bare  of  the 
hidden  wonders  of  nature,  that  our  pre- 
sent amount  of  acquaintance  with  crea- 
tion should  be  as  Jiolhing  when  compared 
with  what  might  then  be  attained.  What 
surprises  a  man,  what  appears  wonder- 
ful to  him,  because  beyond  his  skill  to 
effect,  or  his  wisdom  to  explain,  does 
not  necessarily  present  matter  of  surprise 
to  an  angel :  the  standard  of  wonderful- 


ness  grows  with  the  faculties  of  the  crea- 
ture ;  there  being  nothing  to  overawe 
and  astonish,  till  there  is  something  far 
surpassing  its  power  or  its  intelligence. 

Hence,  we  should  not  perhaps  feel 
warranted  in  saying  to  the  atheist,  how 
can  you  believe,  if  you  resist  so  great 
tokens  of  a  Deity  as  are  stamped  on  the 
scenery  by  which  you  are  encompassed  ] 
If  we  can  suppose  yet  greater  tokens,  it 
is  possible  that  he  who  will  not  yield  to 
the  evidence  now  vouchsafed,  would 
yield  to  that  mightier  which  imagination 
can  array.  The  atheist  might  say  to  us, 
I  am  not  convinced  by  what  I  viev/ 
around  me.  My  own  thoughts  can  sug- 
gest stronger  witness  for  a  Deity,  if  a 
Deity  there  be,  than  you  think  impressed 
on  this  earth,  and  its  furnituie,  and  its 
inhabitants.  And  whilst  my  mind  can 
an'ange  a  greater  proof,  you  can  have 
no  right  to  denounce  my  unbelief  as  in- 
surmountable, because  not  surmounted 
by  what  you  reckon  so  great. 

Now  we  stay  not  to  show  you,  that 
he  who  can  resist  the  evidences  of  an 
Infinite  First  cause,  which  are  accessible 
to  dwellers  on  this  planet,  would  prob- 
ably remain  unconvinced  if  the  universe, 
in  all  its  spreadings,  were  open  to  his 
expatiations.  He  would  carry  with  him 
that  desire  to  disbelieve,  which  is  the 
mainspring  of  infidelity;  and  this  would 
always  furnish  an  excuse  for  remaining 
the  atheist.  But  if  we  cannot  say  to  the 
atheist,  when  pointing  to  the  surround- 
ing creation,  you  withstand  an  evidence 
than  which  there  cannot  be  a  greater,  we 
can  say  to  the  worldly-minded,  when 
pointing  to  the  scheme  of  redemption, 
you  neglect  a  salvation  than  which  there 
cannot  even  be  imagined  a  mightier. 
If  tlic  atheist  might  appeal  from  proofs 
which  have  been  given,  to  yet  stronger 
which  might  have  been  furnished,  wo 
deny  that  the  v/orldly-minded  can  appeal 
from  what  God  hath  done  on  their  be- 
half, to  a  moi'e  marvellous  interference 
which  imagination  can  picture.  It  is 
the  property  of  redemption,  if  not  of 
creation,  that  it  leaves  no  room  for  im- 
agination. We  v.'ill  not  defy  a  man  to 
array  in  his  mind  the  imagery  of  an  uni- 
verse, presenting  the  impress  of  God- 
head more  clearly  than  that  in  which  we 
are  placed.  As  we  have  ahvady  said, 
even  if  the  universe  remained  the  same, 
we  can  suppose  such  change  in  our 
faculties  of  observation  as  would  clothe 


ARGUMENT  FOR    THE  PERIL  OF   ITS  NEGLECT. 


181 


every  star,  and  every  atom,  and  every 
insect,  with  a  hundred-fold  more  of  the 
proof  that  there  is  a  God.  13ut  we  will 
defy  a  man  to  conceive  a  scheme  for  the 
rescue  of  a  lost  world,  which  should  ex- 
ceed, in  any  single  respect,  that  laid  i 
open  by  the  Gospel.  We  affirm  of  this 
scheme,  that  it  is  so  great  that  you  can-  I 
not  suppose  a  greater.  It  is  not  because 
our  faculties  are  bounded,  that  it  seems 
to  U6  wonderful.  We  have  right  to  con- 
sider that  it  wears  the  same  aspect  to 
the  highest  of  creatures  :  the  mystery  of 
godliness  being  unsearchable  as  well  to 
angels  as  to  men.  And  if  it  be  suppos- 
able  that  there  are  scenes,  which  other 
beings  are  permitted  to  traverse,  far  out- 
doing in  the  wonderfulness  of  structure, 
and  the  majesty  of  adoi-nment,  the  earth 
on  which  we  dwell — so  that  this  creation 
is  not  the  richest  in  the  tracery  of  power 
and  skill — we  pronounce  it  insupposable, 
that  theie  could  have  been  made  an  ar- 
rangement on  behalf  of  fallen  creatures, 
fuller  of  Divinity,  and  more  worthy 
amazement,  than  that  of  which  we  are 
actually  the    objects. 

This  is  our  first  way  of  putting,  or 
rather  vindicating,  the  question  of  our 
text.  We  contend  that  atheism  has  a 
far  better  apology  for  resisting  the  evi- 
dences of  a  God  which  had  spread  over 
creation,  than  worldly-mindedness  for 
manifesting  insensibility  to  redemption 
through  Christ.  Atheism  may  ask  for  a 
wider  sphere  of  expatiation,  and  a  more 
glowing  impress  of  Deity ;  for  it  falls 
within  our  power  to  conceive  of  licher 
manifestations  of  the  invisible  Godhead. 
But  worldly-mindedness  cannot  ask  for 
more  touching  proof  of  the  love  of  the 
Almighty,  or  for  a  more  bounteous  pro- 
vision for  human  necessities,  or  for 
more  stirritig  motive  to  repentance  and 
obedience.  Those  of  you  who  are  not 
overcome  by  what  has  been  done  for 
them,  and  who  treat  with  indifference 
and  contempt  the  proffers  of  thb  Gospel, 
are  just  in  the  position  of  the  atheist  who 
should  remain  the  atheist  after  God  had 
set  before  him  the  highest  possible  de- 
monstration of  himself.  It  is  not  too 
bold  a  thing  to  say,  that,  in  redeeming 
us,  God  exhausted  himself.  He  gave 
himself;  and  what  greater  gift  could  re- 
main unbestowed  ]  So  then,  if  you  neg- 
lect salvation,  there  is  nothing  which 
you  would  not  neglect.  God  himself 
could  provide  nothing  greater ;  and  if 


therefore  you  are  unaffected  by  this,  you 
only  prove  yourselves  incapable  of  being 
moved. 

Thus  it  is  the  greatness  of  salvation 
which  proves  the  utter  ruin  which  must 
follow  its  neglect.  If  God  have  done 
for  you  the  utmost  which  even  D^ity 
could  do  ;  if  all  the  divine  attributes,  un- 
limited as  they  are,  have  combined,  yea, 
even  exhausted  themselves  in  the  scheme 
of  your  rescue  ;  if  the  Creator  could  not 
by  any  imaginable  display  have  shown 
himself  more  compassionate  or  more 
terrible,  mightier  to  save  or  mightier  to 
crush ;  and  if  you  withstand  all  this,  if 
you  are  indifferent  to  all  this,  if  you 
"  neglect  so  great  salvation  ;"  may  we  not 
affirm  that  the  magnitude  of  that  which 
you  despise  is  an  incontrovertible  proof 
that  you  must  inevitably  perish  1  May 
we  not  ai-gue,  that  baving  shown  your- 
selves too  hardened  to  yield  to  that  into 
which  Deity  hath  thrown  all  his  strength, 
and  too  proud  to  be  humbled  by  that 
which  involved  the  humiliation  of  God, 
and  too  grovelling  to  be  attracted  by  that 
which  unites  the  human  to  the  divine, 
and  too  cold  to  be  warmed  by  that  which 
burns  with  the  compassions  of  Him  who 
is  love — may  we  not  argue  that  you  thus 
prove  of  yourselves,  that  there  is  no  pos- 
sible arrangement  by  which  you  could 
be  saved ;  that,  resisting  what  in  itself 
is  greatest,  you  demonstrate,  in' a  certain 
sense,  that  you  cannot  be  overcome ; 
and  oh  1  then,  if  we  have  nothing  to 
argue  from  but  the  stupendousness  of 
redemption,  what  energy  is  there  in  the 
question,  "  How  shall  we  escape,  if  we 
neglect  so  great  salvation  1 " 

But  it  is  necessary,  as  we  before  ob- 
served, that  we  consider  more  in  detail 
the  greatness  of  salvation,  and  by  re- 
solving it  into  its  elements,  make  clear- 
er the  proof  of  the  peril  of  neglect.  Let 
it  then  fii'st  be  remarked,  that  salvation 
is  great  because  of  the  agency  through 
which  it  was  effected.  You  know  that 
the  Author  of  our  redemption  was  none 
other  than  the  eternal  Son  of  God,  who 
had  covenanted  from  the  first  to  become 
the  surety  of  the  fallen.  It  came  not 
within  the  power  of  an  angel  to  make 
atonement  for  our  sins  :  the  angelic  na- 
ture might  have  been  united  to  the 
human,  but  there  would  not  have  been 
dignity  in  the  one  to  give  the  required 
worth  to  the  sufferings  of  the  other. 
So  far  as  we  have  the  power  of  ascertain- 


182 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  SALVATION  AN 


iDg,  it  would  seem  that  no  being  but  the 
Divine,  taking  to  himself  flesli,  could 
have  satisfied  justice  in  the  stead  of 
fallen  men.  But  then  this  is  precisely 
tlie  arrangement  which  has  been  made 
on  our  behalf.  It  was  the  second  person 
in  the  ever-blessed  Trinity,  who,  com- 
passionating the  ruin  which  transgres- 
sion hfid  brought  on  this  earth,  assumed 
our  nature,  exhausted  our  curse,  and 
died  our  death.  And  certainly,  if  there 
be  an  aspect  under  which  redemption 
appears  great,  it  is  when  surveyed  a« 
the  achievement  of  the  only  begotten  of 
the  Father.  Tiie  majesty  of  the  agent 
gives  stupendousness  to  the  work,  and 
causes  it  to  dilate  till  it  far  exceeds  com- 
prehension. It  is  mainly  on  this  account 
that  we  can  declare  even  imagination 
unable  to  increase  the  greatness  of  the 
arrangement  for  our  rescue.  This  ar- 
rangement demanded  that  God  himself 
should  become  man,  and  sustain  all  the 
wrath  which  sin  had  provoked ;  and 
what  can  be  imagined  more  amazing 
than  the  fact,  that  what  the  arrangement 
demanded  literally  took  place  i  The 
problem,  how  God  could  be  just  and 
yet  the  justifier  of  sinners,  baffled  all 
finite  intelligence,  because  a  divine  per- 
son alone  could  mediate  between  God 
and  man  ;  and  if  created  wisdom  could 
have  discovered  the  necessity,  it  would 
never  liave  surmised  the  possibility. 

Now  certainly  that  which,  more  than 
any  thing  else,  rendered  human  redemp- 
tion insuj)posable,  when  submitted  to  the 
understanding  of  the  very  highest  of  crea- 
tures, must  be  confessed  to  be  also  that 
which  gives  a  sublime  awfulness  to  the 
plan,  and  invests  it  with  a  grandeur  which 
increases  as  we  gaze.  In  looking  at  the 
cross  ;  and  considering  that  our  sins  are 
laid  upon  the  being  who  hangs  there  in 
weakness  and  ignominy,  the  overcoming 
thought  is,  that  this  being  is  none  other 
than  tlie  everlasting  God  ;  and  that,  how- 
ever he  seems  mastered  by  tlie  powers 
of  wickedness,  he  could  by  a  single  word, 
uttered  from  tl)e  tree  on  wiiich  he  immo- 
lates himseli",  scatter  the  universe  into 
nuliiing,  and  call  up  an  assemblage  of  new 
woilds,  and  new  systems.  This  makes 
salvation  great — I  shall  know  how  great, 
when  i  can  measure  the  distance  between 
the  eternal  and  the  })erishal)le,  omnipo- 
tence and  feebleness,  immoiialiiy  and 
death.  Uut  if  salvation  is  great,  because 
the  Savior  is  Divine,  assuredly  the  great- 


ness of  salvation  proves  the  peril  of  neg* 
lect.     To  neglect  the  salvation  must  be 
to  throw  scorn  on  the  Savior ;  and  that 
Savior  beintj  so  <rreat,  "how shall  we  es 
cape  ? "     Oh,  if  it  give  an  unmeasured 
vastness  to  the  work  of  our  redemption, 
that  he  who  undertook,  and  carried  on, 
and    completed     that    work,    was  "the 
brightness  of  the  Father's  glory,  and  the 
express  image  of  his  person  ;  "  if  the  fact, 
that  lie  "who  bare  our  sins  in  his  owii 
body  on  the  tree,"  was  that  illustrious 
being  "  for  whom  are  all  things,  and  by 
whom  are  all  things,"  magnify  our  rescue 
from  death  till  thought  itself  fails  to  over- 
take its  boundaries  ;  then  there  is  a  great- 
ness in  the  proflered  deliverance,  derived 
from  the  greatness  of  the  deliverer,  which 
proclaims  us  ruined  if  we  treat  the  ofler 
with  contempt.     We  are  taught,  by  the 
greatness,  that  there  can  be  salvation  in 
none  other,  for  God  would  n(.)t  have  in- 
terposed, could  any  other  have  delivered. 
We  are  taught  that  to  neglect,  is  to  set 
at  nought  Him  who  can  crush  by  a  breath, 
and  to  convert  into  an  enemy,  pledged 
to  our  destruction,  the  alone  being  that 
could   be  found   throughout  a   peopled 
immensity  powerful  enough  for  our  res- 
cue. And  what  say  you,  men  and  breth- 
ren— if  the  greatness  of  the  salvation 
dejjend  on  the  greatness  of  the  Savior, 
and  this  greatness  demonstrate  that  to 
neglect  the  salvation,  is  to  throw  away 
our  only  hope,  and  to  array  against  oui"- 
selves  that  fiercest  of  all  vengeance,  D.i- 
vine  mercy  scorned — what  say   you,  in 
contradiction  of  the  impossibility  assert- 
ed by  the  question,  "How  shall  we  es- 
cape, if  we  neglect  so  great  salvation]" 
ihit  again — we  may  affirm  this  salva- 
tion to  be  great ;  because  of  ♦he  com])lete- 
ness  and  fulness  of  the  work,  great  in  it- 
self, as  well  as  in  its  Author.     We  might 
be  sure  that  what  a  divine  agent  under- 
took would  be  thoroughly  effected  ;  and 
accordingly,  the  more  we  examine  the 
scheme  of  our  redemption,  the  more  may 
we  prove  it  in  every  sense  perfect.     The 
sins  of  the  whole  race  were  laid  upon 
Chri'Jt ;   and  the  divinity  gave  such  witrlh 
to  t".e  sufferings  of  the  humanity,  that 
the  whole  race  might  be  pardoned,  if  the 
whole  race  would  put  faith  in  the  substi- 
tute.    There  is  consequently  nothing  in 
our  own  guiltiness  to  make  us  hesitate 
as     to     the    possibility    of    forgiveness. 
The  penalties  due  to  a  violated  law  have 
been  discharged  :  and  therefore,  if  we 


ARGUMENT  FOR  THE  PERIL  OP  ITS  NEGLECT. 


1S3 


believe  in  our  suiety,  we  are  as  free  as 
though  we  had  never  transgressed.  And 
is  not  that  a  great  salvation,  which  places 
pardon  within  reach  of  the  vilest  offend- 
ers ;  and  which,  providing  an  atone- 
ment commensurate  with  every  amount 
of  iniquity,  forbids  any  to  despair  who 
have  a  wish  to  be  saved  ? 

l^ut  yet  further — this  salvation  not  only 
provides  for  our  pardon,  so  that  punish- 
ment may  be  avoided  ;  it  provides  also 
for  our  acceptance,  so  that  happiness 
may  be  obtained.  The  faith  which  so 
interests  us  in  Christ,  that  we  are  reckon- 
ed to  have  satisfied  the  law's  penalties 
in  him,  obtains  for  us  also  the  imputation 
of  his  righteousness,  so  that  we  have  a 
spotless  covering  in  which  to  appear 
befoie  God.  Hence  we  have  share  in 
the  obedience,  as  well  as  in  the  suffer- 
ing of  the  mediator  ;  and  whilst  the  lat- 
ter delivers  from  the  death  we  had  de- 
served, the  former  consigns  to  the  immor- 
tality we  could  never  have  merited.  And 
is  not  this  a  great  salvation,  great  in  its 
8imj)licity,  great  in  its  comprehensive- 
ness, which  thus  meets  the  every  neces- 
sity of  the  guilty  and  helpless ;  and 
which,  arranged  for  creatures  whom  it 
finds  in  the  lowest  degradation,  leaves 
them  not  till  elevated  to  the  very  summit 
of  dignity  1 

But  if  salvation  be  thus  great  in  the 
fulness  of  its  provisions,  what  again  does 
the  greatness  prove  but  the  peril  of 
neglect  ]  If  the  salvation  were  in  any 
respect  deficient,  there  might  be  excuse 
for  the  refusing  it  our  attention.  If  it 
met  our  necessities  only  in  part,  leaving 
much  to  be  sought  in  other  quarters,  and 
supplied  from  other  sources,  it  would  ne- 
cessarily lose  much  of  its  greatness ;  and 
as  its  greatness  diminished,  so  perhaps 
would  its  claim  on  our  eager  acceptance. 
If,  providing  pardon  for  past  ofl'ences,  it 
left  us  to  stand  or  fall  for  the  future  by 
our  own  obedience,  making  final  security 
the  result  of  nothing  but  our  diligence, 
neglect  might  be  palliated  by  the  con- 
fessed fact  that  what  it  offered  sufficed 
not  for  our  wants.  To  pardon  me,  and 
then  leave  me  to  gain  heaven  by  my  own 
works,  were  to  make  death  as  sure  as 
ever,  but  only  more  terrible,  because  I 
had  been  mocked  with  the  prospect  of 
life.  And  I  might  have  an  apology  for 
not  giving  heed  to  the  Gospel  and  not 
striving  to  comply  with  its  demands,  if  I 
could  plead  that  this  Gospel  proffered 


only  the  half  of  what  I  need,  and  that  I 
could  no  more  furnish  the  remainder 
than  provide  the  whole.  Jiut  the  salva- 
tion is  great,  so  great  that  I  cannot  find 
the  moral  want  of  which  it  does  not  pre- 
sent the  snjjply.  It  is  so  great,  that  I 
can  only  describe  it  by  saying,  that 
Divine  knowledge  took  the  measure  of 
every  human  necessity,  and  Divine  love 
and  power  gathered  into  this  salvation  a 
mcne  than  adequate  provision.  What  then 
if  we  neglect  this  salvation  ?  The  salva- 
tion is  great,  as  furnishing  all  which  we 
require  :  what  then  is  to  neglect  it,  but  to 
put  from  us  all  which  we  require  1  The 
salvation  is  great,  because  meeting  with 
a  wonderful  precision  our  every  exi- 
gence :  what  then  is  to  neglect  it,  but 
to  leave  our  every  exigence  unsatisfied 
and  uncared  for  ?  The  salvation  is  great, 
because  proffering  the  pardon  of  sin  ;  and 
a  righteousness  which  will  endure  the 
scrutinies  of  the  Omniscient,  and  victory 
over  death,  and  acquittal,  yea,  reward, 
at  the  judgment :  what  then  is  it  to  neg- 
lect it,  but  to  keep  the  burden  of  unex- 
piated  guilt,  and  to  i-esolve  to  go  hence 
with  no  plea  against  wrath,  and  to  leave 
the  sting  in  death,  and  to  insure  dreari- 
ness and  agony  through  eternity  ]  Oh, 
it  is  the  completeness  of  salvation  which 
gives  it  its  greatness.  Salvation  is  col- 
lossal,  towering  till  lost  in  the  inaccessi- 
ble majesty  of  its  Author,  because  con- 
taining whatever  is  required  for  the  trans- 
formation of  man  from  the  child  of  wrath 
to  the  child  of  God,  from  death  to  life, 
from  the  shattered,  and  corruptible,  and 
condemned,  to  the  glorious,  and  imper- 
ishable, and  approved.  But  if  all  this 
give  gieatness  to  salvation,  beyond  doubt 
it  is  the  greatness  which  proves,  that,  in 
treating  the  Gospel  with  indifference,  we 
block  up  against  ourselves  the  alone  path 
by  which  sinners  can  flee  Divine  wrath. 
As  the  scheme  of  redemption  rises  before 
us  in  its  grandeur  and  plenitude  —  a 
grandeur  which  makes  it  more  than  com- 
mensurate with  the  ruin  which  apostacy 
hath  fastened  on  mankind,  and  a  pleni- 
tude through  which  it  meets  the  every 
want  of  every  one  who  longs  to  grasp 
eternal  life — why,  the  more  magnificent, 
and  the  more  comjjrehensive,  appears 
the  proffered  deliverance,  with  the  more 
energy  does  it  echo  back  the  question  of 
the  apostle,  "How  shall  we  escape,  if  we 
neglect  so  great  salvation  ?" 

But  there  are  yet  other  ways  in  which 


184 


THE  GREATNESS  OP  SALVATION  AN 


we  may  uphold  the  justice  of  the  argu- 
ment, which  infers  the  peril  of  neglect 
from  the  greatness  of  salvation.  We 
proceed  to  ohsei-ve  that  salvation  is 
great,  not  more  because  of  the  greatness 
of  the  Agent  by  whom  it  was  achieved, 
than  of  Him  by  wliom  it  is  applied. 
The  personal  presence  of  the  Redeem- 
er with  his  church  was  undoubtedly  a 
privilege  and  blessing  surpassing  our 
power  to  estimate.  Yet,  forasmuch  as 
the  descent  of  the  Spirit  could  not  take 
place  without  his  own  departure  from 
earth,  Christ  assuied  his  disciples  that 
it  was  expedient  for  them  that  he  should 
go  away  :  thus  implying  it  to  be  more 
for  their  benefit  that  the  Holy  Ghost 
should  come  down,  than  that  himself 
should  remain.  And  if,  therefore,  it  give 
greatness  to  salvation  that  it  was  effect- 
ed by  the  Son,  it  must  give  as  much  that 
it  is  applied  by  the  Spirit.  That  a  per- 
son of  the  ever-blessed  Trinity — that 
enerjiizing  Ascent  who  is  described  as 
brooding  over  the  waters,  when  creation 
iiad  not  yet  been  moulded  into  symme- 
try, that  He  might  extract  order  from 
confusion — that  this  being  should  con- 
tiimally  reside  upon  earth,  on  purpose 
that  he  may  act  on  the  consciences  and 
hearts  of  mankind  through  the  Gospel 
of  Christ :  we  say  of  this,  that  it  gives 
to  our  salvation  the  perpetual  majesty 
of  Divinity,  an  avvfulness  scarce  inferior 
to  that  which  it  derives  from  the  sacri- 
fice of  the  Son.  The  presence  of  the 
Spirit  with  the  church,  a  presence  so 
actual  and  universal  that  the  heart  of 
each  amongst  us  is  the  scene  of  his  oper- 
ations, and  the  truth  of  our  redemption 
through  Christ  is  that  which  he  strives 
to  bring  home  to  our  affections, — this 
assuredly  stamps  a  greatness  on  the  ar- 
rangements for  deliverance,  only  to  be 
measured  when  W3  can  measure  God 
himself. 

But,  if  it  gives  greatness  to  salvation 
that  it  is  applied  by  the  Spirit,  who  can 
fail  to  perceive  that  from  the  greatness 
may  be  learned  the  peril  of  neglect  l 
We  are  certain  of  every  one  amongst  you 
who  neglects  salvation,  that  he  with- 
stands the  8Ugg(!stioii3  and  strivings  of 
the  Spirit  of  lilt;  living  God.  We  know 
that  there  is  ncjt  one  of  you,  the  most  in- 
din'eroiit  and  careless  in  regard  to  the 
threateriings  and  promises  of  the  Gospel, 
who  has  not  had  to  fight  his  way  to  his 
present  insensibility  against  the  power- 


ful remonstrances  of  an  invisible  monitor, 
and  who  is  not  often  compelled,  in  order 
to  the  keeping  himself  from  alarm  and 
anxiety,  to  crush,  with  a  sudden  and 
desperate  violence,  pleadings  which  are 
fraught  with  super-human  energy.  We 
know  this.  We  want  no  laying  bare  of 
your  secret  experience  in  order  to  our 
ascertaining  this.  We  need  no  confes- 
si(jns  to  inform  us  that  you  have  some 
little  trouble  in  destroying  yourselves. 
The  young  amongst  you,  whose  rod  is 
pleasure  and  whose  home  the  world,  we 
would  not  believe  them  if  they  assured 
us,  that  they  never  know  any  kind  of 
mental  uneasiness ;  that  never  when  in 
a  crowd,  never  when  alone,  do  they  hear 
the  whisperings  of  a  voice  which  tells 
them  of  moral  danger;  that  they  have 
never  difficulty,  when  told  of  the  death 
of  an  associate,  or  when  they  meet  a  fu- 
neral, or  when  laid  on  a  sick-bed,  in  re- 
pressing all  fear,  all  consciousness  of  a 
necessity  for  a  thorough  change  of  con- 
duct. We  would  not  believe  them,  we 
say,  if  they  assured  us  of  this.  We 
know  better.  We  know  them  the  pos- 
sessors of  a  conscience.  We  know  them 
acted  on  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Almighty. 
We  know  them  immortal,  sons  and 
daughters  of  eternity,  however  they  may 
endeavor  to  live  as  though  death  were 
annihilation.  And  therefore  we  would 
not  believe  them.  Oh,  no.  As  soon 
believe  the  rock,  were  it  gifted  with 
speech,  which  should  argue,  that,  be- 
cause unsoftened,  it  was  never  shone  on 
by  the  sun,  and  never  swept  by  the 
winds,  and  never  dashed  by  the  waters, 
asthegraniteof  the  heart,  which,  because 
yet  insensible,  would  deny  that  an  un- 
seen hand  ever  smote  it,  or  celestial  dews 
ever  fell  on  it,  or  divine  beams  strove  to 
penetrate  it. 

No,  we  cannot  believe  you  when  you 
would  tell  us  that  you  are  let  alone  by 
God.  A-^ain  we  reply  that  we  know 
better.  We  know  that  the  young  man, 
who  is  the  slave  of  his  passions,  has  of- 
ten a  misgiving  that  his  tyrants  heru  will 
be  his  tormentors  hereafter.  Wt;  know 
that  the  young  woman,  whose  tieity  is 
dress,  is  sometimes  startled  by  the 
thought  of  the  shroud  and  the  wiiiding- 
slieet.  We  know  that  the  merchant- 
man, laboring  to  be  rich,  is  now  and  then 
aghast  with  fear  of  being  poor  through 
eternity.  We  know  that  the  shrewd 
man,  too  cunning  to  be  duped  by  any 


ARGUMENT  FOR  THE  PERIL  OP  ITS  NEGLECT. 


IBS 


but  himself,  has  rnoments  in  which  he 
feels,  that,  in  the  greatest  of  all  transac- 
tions, he  may  perhaps  be  ovei--reached, 
and  barter  the  everlasting  for  the  perish- 
able. We  know  that  the  proud  man, 
moving  in  a  region  of  his  own,  and  flush- 
ed with  the  thought  how  many  are  be- 
neath him,  is  occasionally  startled  by  a 
vision  of  utter  degradation,  himself  in 
infamy,  and  "How  art  thou  fallen!" 
breathed  against  him  by  the  vilest.  We 
know  that  those  who  neglect  means  of 
grace,  who,  when  invited  to  the  Lord's 
table,  continually  refuse — we  know,  that, 
as  they  turn  their  back  on  the  ordinance, 
they  do  violence  to  a  secret  remon- 
strance, and  feel,  if  only  for  an  instant, 
(oh,  how  easy,  by  the  resistance  of  an 
instant,  to  endanger  their  eternity  !)  that 
they  are  rejecting  a  privilege  which  will 
rise  against  them  as  an  accuser.  We 
know  all  this,  and  we  cannot  believe  you 
when  you  would  tell  us  that  you  are  let 
alone  by  God.  You  are  not  let  alone. 
You  are  acted  on  through  the  machinery 
of  conscience.  You  may  have  done 
your  best  towai'ds  mastering  and  exter- 
minating conscience,  but  you  have  not 
yet  quite  succeeded.  There  is  Divinity 
in  the  monitor,  and  it  will  not  be'  over- 
borne. We  know  that  you  are  not  let 
alone  :  for  the  salvation  which  we  press 
on  your  acceptance  is  a  great  salvation  ; 
and  in  nothing  is  this  greatness  more  ap- 
parent than  in  the  fact,  that  the  Spirit  of 
the  Almighty  is  occupied  with  commend- 
ing this  salvation  to  sinners,  and  com- 
bating their  prejudices,  and  urging  them 
to  accept.  It  is  indeed  a  marvellous 
greatness,  that  Omnipotence  itself  should 
not  be  more  engaged  with  upholding  the 
universe,  and  actuating  the  motions  of 
unnumbered  systems,  and  sustaining  the 
animation  of  every  living  thing,  from  the 
archangel  down  to  the  insect,  than  with 
plying  transgressors  with  all  the  motives 
which  are  laid  up  in  the  Gospel,  admon- 
ishing them  by  the  agony,  and  the  pas- 
sion, and  the  death  of  a  Mediator,  and 
warning  them  by  the  teiTors,  as  well  as 
inviting  them  by  the  mercies,  of  the 
cross.  It  is  a  marvellous  greatness. 
But  if  you  remain  the  indifferent  and  un- 
believing, this  greatness  ordy  proves  that 
you  are  not  to  be  overcome  by  the  strong- 
est power  which  can  be  brought  to  bear 
on  our  nature  ;  proves  that  an  agency, 
than  which  none  is  mightier,  has  wres- 
tled with  you,  and  striven  with  you,  but 


as  yet  all  in  vain  ;  proves  therefore  the 
certainty  of  your  destruction,  if  you  per- 
sist in  your  carelessness,  because  it 
proves,  that,  having  withstood  the  most 
potent  means,  there  can  be  none  to 
which  you  will  yield  :  and  what  is  this 
but  proving  the  peril  of  neglect  I'rom  the 
greatness  of  salvation  ?  what  is  this, 
since  the  greatness  of  salvation  depends 
much  on  the  greatness  of  the  being  who 
applies  it,  what  is  this  but  asking,  "  How 
shall  we  escape,  if  we  neglect  so  great 
salvation  1 " 

But  we  have  yet  another  mode  in 
which  to  exhibit  the  same  truth ;  to 
show,  that  is,  that  the  greatness  of  salva- 
tion proves  the  impossibility  that  they 
who  neglect  it  should  escape.  We  are 
bound  to  regard  the  Gospel  of  Christ 
Jesus  as  the  grand  revelation  of  future 
punishment  and  rewai-d.  Until  the 
Redeemer  appeared,  and  brought  men 
direct  tidings  from  the  invisible  world, 
the  sanctions  of  eternity  were  scarcely 
at  all  made  to  bear  on  the  occupations 
of  time.  It  cannot  indeed  be  said  that 
Christ  first  taught  the  immortality  of  the 
soul ;  for  from  the  beginning  the  soul 
was  her  own  witness,  though  oftentimes 
the  testimony  was  inadequately  given, 
that  she  perished  not  with  the  body. 
Yet  so  imperfect  had  been  the  foregoing 
knowledge,  as  compared  with  that  com- 
municated by  Christ,  that  St.  Paul  de- 
clares of  the  Savior,  that  he  "  abolished 
death,  and  brought  life  and  immortality 
to  light  by  the  Gospel."  In  the  teach- 
ino-s  of  the  Mediator  we  have  such  clear 
information  as  to  our  living  under  a  re- 
tributive government,  that  ignorance  can 
be  no  man's  excuse  if  he  act  as  though 
God  took  no  note  of  his  conduct.  And 
we  reckon  that  much  of  the  greatness  of 
the  Gospel  consists  in  the  greatness  of 
the  reward  which  it  proposes  to  right- 
eousness, and  the  greatness  of  the 
punishment  which  it  denounces  on  im- 
penitence. It  is  a  great  salvation,  if  on 
the  alternative  of  its  rejection,  or  accep- 
tance, hinges  another  alternative,  that 
of  everlasting  misery  or  everlasting  hap- 
piness. The  characteristic  of  great  may 
most  justly  bo  ascribed  to  a  system, 
whose  sanctions  are  of  so  sublime  and 
awful  a  description,  which  animates  to 
self-denial  by  the  promise  of  a  heaven 
where  "  there  is  fulness  of  joy  for  ever- 
more," and  warns  back  from  wickedness 
by  the  threatening  of  a  worm  that  never 
24 


186 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  SALVATION,  ETC. 


dies,  and  a  fire  that  is  not  quenched. 
It  was  not  redemption  from  mere  tem- 
porary evil  that  Christ  Jesus  cft'ected. 
Theconsquences  of  transgression  spread 
themselves  through  eternity  ;  and  the  Sa- 
vior, when  he  hovvcd  his  head  and  said, 
"  It  is  finished,"  had  provided  for  the 
removal  of  these  consequences,  in  all  the 
iramenseness  whether  of  their  extent  or 
their  duration.  And  we  say  that  in  noth- 
ing is  the  greatness  of  salvation  more  evi- 
denced than  in  its  dealing  with  everlast- 
ing things ;  it  did  not  indeed  make  man 
immortal  :  but,  finding  him  immortal, 
and  his  immortality  one  of  agony  and 
shame,  it  sent  its  influences  throughout 
this  unlimited  existence,  wrung  the  curse 
from  its  every  instant,  and  left  a  bless- 
ing in  its  stead.  Exceeding  great  is  our 
salvation  in  this,  that  it  opens  a  prospect 
for  eternity  than  which  imagination  can 
conceive  none  more  brilliant,  if  we  close 
with  the  profier,  and  none  more  appal- 
ling, if  we  refuse. 

J3ut  if  this  be  its  greatness,  what  does 
the  greatness  prove  of  those  by  whom  it 
is  neglected  "?  In  order  to  your  being 
animated  to  the  throwing  off  the  tyranny 
of  the  things  of  time  and  sense,  the 
Gospel  sets  before  you  an  array  of  mo- 
tive, concerning  which  it  is  no  boldness 
to  say,  that,  if  ineflective,  it  is  because 
you  are  immovable.  If  heaven  fail  to 
attract,  and  hell  to  alarm — the  heaven 
and  the  hell  which  are  opened  to  us  in 
the  revelation  of  Christ — it  can  only  be 
from  a  set  determination  to  continue  in 
sin,  a  determination,  proof  against  all  by 
which,  as  rational  agents,  we  are  capa- 
ble C/f  being  influenced.  If  you  could 
be  excited  by  reward,  is  there  not  enough 
in  heaven ;  if  you  could  be  deterred 
by  punishment,  is  there  not  enough  iu 
hein 

What,  will  you  tell  me  that  you  can 
be  roused,  that  your  insensibility  is  not 
such  as  it  is  impossible  to  overcome,  or 
rather,  that  your  choice  is  not  so  fixed 
but  that  it  might  be  swayed  by  adequate 
inducement,  when  you  will  not  resign  a 
bauble  wliich  stands  in  competition  with 
heaven,  nor  deny  an  appetite  for  the  sake 
of  escaping  hell  t  Is  it  that  heaven  is 
not  suflicKMitly  glorious  ;  is  it  that  hell 
is  not  sunicieutly  terrible  I  We  can  ad- 
mit no  plea  from  deficiencies  in  the  pro- 
posed punishment  or  reward.  Indeed 
there  can  be  none  of  you  bold  enough  to 
urge  it.     The  man  wliom  heaven  cannot 


allure  from  sin,  the  man  whom  hell  can- 
not scare  from  sin,  would  a  brighter  hea- 
ven (if  such  there  could  be,)  or  a  fiercer 
hell,  prevail  with  him  to  attempt  the 
overcominsr  corruption  1  0!i,  the  salva- 
tion  IS  great,  greater  m  nothing  llian  m 
the  reward  and  punishment  which  it  pro- 
pounds to  mankind  ;  for  of  both  it  may 
be  said,  that  "eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear 
heard,  neither  have  entered  into  the 
heart  of  man."  But  then,  being  thus 
great,  its  greatness  is  our  proof  that  there 
is  no  hope  of  moving  those  whom  it 
moves  not.  The  happiness  promised  to 
obedience,  there  can  be  imagined  none 
richer  ;  the  wretchedness  threatened  to 
disobedience,  there  can  be  imagined 
none  sterner.  And  yet  the  man  is  un- 
affected. He  is  not  attracted  by  the 
happiness — then  I  must  despair  of  at- 
tracting him.  He  is  not  alarmed  by  the 
wretchedness — then  I  must  despair  of 
alarming  him.  And,  therefore,  it  is  the 
greatness  of  the  salvation  which  shows 
me  his  peril.  Yea,  as  this  greatness  is 
demonstrated  by  the  proposition  of  ever- 
lasting portions,  not  to  be  exceeded  in 
the  intenseness  whether  of  joy  or  of  wo, 
and  which  therefore  leave  no  inducement 
untried  by  which  the  careless  may  be 
roused,  and  the  sensual  braced  to  self- 
denial,  we  seem  to  hear  this  question  re- 
verberated alike  from  the  firmament 
above  with  its  homes  for  the  righteous, 
and  from  the  abyss  beneath  with  its  pri- 
sons for  the  lost,  "How  shall  we  escape, 
if  we  neglect  so  great  salvation  1  " 

Such  brethren,  are  certain  of  the  rea- 
sons— and,  had  time  permitted,  we 
might  have  adduced  more — which  prove 
the  connection  between  the  greatness 
of  salvation,  and  the  peril  of  neglect. 
And  now  we  ask  the  careless  and  the 
worldly-minded  amongst  you,  whether 
they  have  an  answer  to  give  to  the 
solemn  question  before  us.  The  de- 
mand is  "  How  shall  we  escape  ?  "  You 
must  undoubtedly  have  some  reply  in 
readiness.  We  have  no  right  to  accuse 
you  of  the  incalculable  folly  of  owning 
that  there  is  only  one  way  of  escape 
from  the  most  terrible  judgments,  and 
yet  taking  no  heed  to  walk  in  that  way. 
You  are  furnished  then  with  a  reply  :  we 
will  not  charge  you  with  a  want  of  com- 
mon sense  :  we  must  allow  you  the  cred- 
it of  having  a  reason  to  give  for  destroy- 
ino^  yourselves.  But  we  should  like  to 
know  the  reason.     We  can  hardly  im- 


ON  THE   EFFECTS  OP   CONSIDERATION. 


187 


agine  its  form.  Perhaps  you  intend  to 
pay  attention  to  the  CJospcl  hereafter. 
But  no,  this  is  no  reason  for  neglect. 
This  confesses  the  necessity  of  giving 
heed ;  and  therefore  proves  you  more 
than  ever  culpable  in  your  negligence. 
Perhaps  you  contend  that  you  quite 
admit  all  the  claims  of  the  Gospel;  that 
you  are  amongst  those  who  receive  it, 
not  those  who  reject ;  and  that  you  know 
not  why  it  should  condemn  you,  since 
you  give  it  heartily  the  preference  to 
every  other  religion.  But  no,  this  is  no 
apology.  It  might  be  plausible,  if  the 
question  were.  How  shall  we  escape,  if 
we  disbelieve,  deny,  ridicule,  oppose, 
so  great  salvation  ]  but  oh,  sirs,  it  is, 
"  How  shall  we  escape  if  we  neglect  ]" 
To  neglect,  just  to  treat  with  coldness 
or  carelessness,  to  give  attention  to 
other  things  in  preference,  not  the  being 
the  openly  infidel,  but  the  actually  indif- 
ferent ;  this  it  is  which,  if  there  be  truth 
in  our  text,  insures  man's  destruction. 

And  therefore  we  again  say  that  we 
cannot  imagine  the  answer  with  which, 
thmking  calculating  beings  as  ye  are, 
you  would  parry  the  home-question  of 


our  text.  But  of  this  we  can  be  certain, 
that  your  answer  has  no  worth.  The 
question  of  the  apostle  is  the  strono-est 
form  of  denial.  Ye  cannot  escape  if  yo 
neglect.  And  be  ye  well  assured,  that, 
if  ye  could  interrogate  the  sj)irits  in 
wretchedness,  negligence  would  be  thai 
which  they  would  chiefly  give  as  the 
cause  of  their  ruin.  There  would  be 
comparatively  few  who  would  tell  you 
they  had  rejected  Christianity  ;  few  that 
they  had  embraced  deistical  views ;  few 
that  they  had  invented  for  themselves 
another  mode  of  acceptance ;  but  the 
many,  the  many,  their  tale  would  be, 
that  they  designed,  but  delayed  to  heark- 
en to  the  Gospel ;  that  they  gave  it 
their  assent,  but  not  their  attention  ; 
that, — are  ye  not  staggered  by  the  like- 
ness to  yourselves  1 — though  they  knew, 
they  did  not  consider;  apprised  of 
danger,  they  took  no  pains  to  avert  it ; 
having  the  offer  of  life,  they  made  no 
effort  to  secure  it ;  and  therefore  perished 
finally,  miserably,  everlastingly,  through 
neglect  of  the  great  salvation.  God 
grant  that  none  of  us,  by  imitating  theii 
neglect,  share  their  misery. 


SERMON. 


ON  THE  EFFECTS  OF  CONSIDERATION* 


"  When  I  consider,  I  am  afraid  of  Him." — Job,  xxiit.  15. 


In  this  chapter  Job  declares,  in  lan- 
guage of  great  sublimity,  the  unsearch- 
ableness  of  God.  "  Behold,  I  go  for- 
ward, but  he  is  not  there,  and  backward, 
but  I  cannot  perceive  him  ;  on  the  left 
hand  where  he  doth  work,  but  I  cannot 
behold  him;  he  hideth   himself  on  the 

*  A  collection  was  made  after  this  sermon,  in 
support  of  the  Irish  Society  of  London. 


right  hand,  that  I  cannot  see  him."  Vex- 
ed with  many  and  sore  trials,  the  patri- 
arch vainly  strove  to  understand  God's 
dealings,  and,  though  still  holding  fast 
his  integrity,  was  almost  tempted  to 
doubt  whether  he  should  escape  from  his 
troubles.  He  dwells  on  the  immutabil- 
ity of  God;  and,  thinking  that  j  ossibly 
this  immutability  is  engaged  to  the  con- 
tinuance of  his  sorrows,  only  heightens 


188 


ON  THE  EFFECTS  OF  CONSIDERATION. 


his  anxieties  by  pondering  the  unchange- 
ableness  of  God.  "  He  is  in  one  mind, 
and  who  can  turn  him  1  and  what  his 
BOiil  desircth,  even  that  he  docth."  If 
there  had  gone  out  a  deci  ee  against  him, 
appointing  calamity  to  be  his  portion. 
Job  felt  that  deliverance  was  not  to  be 
hoped  for.  "  Therefore,"  saith  he,  "  1 
am  troubled  at  his  presence  ;  when  I  con- 
eider,  I  am  afraid  of  him." 

It  was  not,  you  observe,  a  hasty 
glance  at  the  character  of  God,  which 
gave  rise  to  the  fear  which  the  patriarch 
expresses.  His  fear  was  the  result  of 
deep  meditation,  and  not  of  a  cursory 
thoui'ht.  "  When  I  consider,  I  am  afraid 
of  him."  The  cursory  thought  might 
have  included  nothing  but  the  benevo- 
lence of  God,  and  thus  have  induced  the 
sufferer  to  expect  relief  from  his  woes. 
But  the  deep  meditation  brought  under 
review  many  attributes  of  the  Almighty, 
and  there  was  much  in  these  attributes 
to  perplex  and  discourage. 

It  may  indeed  have  been  only  the  un- 
changeableness  of  God,  which,  engag- 
ing the  consideration,  excited  the  fears 
of  the  patriarch.  But  we  are  not  bound, 
in  discoursing  on  our  text,  to  limit  to  one 
attribute  this  effect  of  consideration. 
There  is  the  statement  of  a  general  truth, 
though,  in  the  case  before  us,  the  appli- 
cation may  have  been  particular.  That 
the  fear,  or  dread,  of  God  is  the  produce 
of  consideration  ;  that  it  does  not  there- 
fore spring  from  ignorance,  or  want  of 
thought ;  this  is  the  general  truth  assert- 
ed by  the  passage,  and  which,  as  accu- 
rately distinguishing  religion  from  super- 
stition, demands  the  best  of  our  attention. 
It  :3  not  to  be  doubted  that  a  supersti- 
tious dread  of  a  Supreme  Being  is  to  be 
overcome  by  consideration  ;  and  it  is  as 
little  to  be  doubted  that  a  religious  dread 
is  to  be  produced  by  consideration.  The 
man  who  has  thi'own  off"  all  fear  of  God 
is  the  man  in  whose  thoughts  God  finds 
little  or  no  place.  If  you  could  fasten, 
for  a  while,  this  man's  mind  to  the  facts, 
that  there  is  a  God,  that  he  takes  cogni- 
zance of  human  actions  as  moral  Govern- 
or of  the  universe,  and  that  he  will  here- 
after deal  with  us  by  the  laws  of  a  most 
rigid  retribution,  you  would  produce 
eomething  like  a  dread  of  the  Creator; 
and  this  dread  would  be  superstitious  or 
religious,  according  to  the  falseness,  or 
soundness,  of  principles  admitted  and 
inferences  deduced.     W    iho    produced 


dread  were  superstitious,  it  would  give 
way  on  a  due  consideration  of  these 
principles  and  inferences  ;  if  religious, 
such  consideration  would  only  deepen 
and  strengthen  it. 

We  are  sure  that  the  absence  of  con- 
sideration is  the  only  account  which  can 
be  given  of  the  absence  of  a  fear  of  the 
Almighty.  It  is  not,  and  it  cannot  be,  . 
by  any  process  of  thought,  or  mental  de- 
bate, that  the  great  mass  of  our  fellow- 
men  work  themselves  into  a  kind  of 
practical  atheism.  It  is  by  keeping  God 
out  of  their  thoughts,  or  allowing  him 
nothintr  more  than  the  homatre  of  a  faint 
and  passing  remembrance,  that  they  con- 
trive to  preserve  that  surprising  indif 
ference,  which  would  almost  seem  to  ar 
gue  disbelief  t>f  his  existence.  And 
there  is  not  one  is  this  assembly,  what- 
ever may  be  his  unconcern  as  to  his  po- 
sition relatively  to  his  Maker,  and  what- 
ever his  success  in  banishing  from  his 
mind  the  consequences  of  a  life  of  mis- 
doing, in  regard  of  whom  we  have  other 
than  a  thorough  persuasion,  that,  if  we 
could  make  him  consider,  we  should  also 
make  him  fear. 

It  is  not  that  men  are  ignorant  of  facts  ; 
it  is  that  they  will  not  give  their  atten- 
tion to  facts.  They  know  a  vast  deal 
which  they  do  not  consider.  You  can- 
not be  observant  of  what  passes  around 
you,  or  within  yourselves,  and  fail  to 
perceive  how  useless  is  a  large  amount 
of  knowledge,  and  that  too  simply 
through  want  of  consideration.  To  bor- 
row the  illustration  of  a  distinguished 
writer,  who  has  so  treated  as  almost  to 
have  exhausted  this  subject,  every  one 
knows  that  he  must  die  ;  and  yet  the 
certainty  of  death  produces  no  effect  on 
the  bulk  of  mankind.  It  is  a  thing  known, 
it  is  not  a  thing  considered  ;  and  there- 
fcn-e  those  who  are  sure  that  they  are 
mortal,  live  as  though  sure  they  wero 
immortal.  Every  one  of  you  knows  that 
there  is  a  judgment  to  come.  But  may 
we  not  fear  of  numbers  amongst  you, 
that  they  do  not  consider  that  there  is  a 
jud'i:ment  to  come ;  and  may  we  not 
ascribe  to  their  not  considering  what 
they  know,  their  persisting  in  conduct 
which  must  unavoidably  issue  in  utter 
condemnation  1 

We  might  multiply  this  kind  of  illus- 
tration. But  the  fact  is  so  apparent,  the 
fact  of  knowledge  being  useless  because 
the  thing  known  li  Let  considered,  that  it 


ON  THE  EFFECTS  OF  CONSIDERATION. 


189 


were  but  wasting  time  to  employ  it  on  its 
proof.  We  may  suppose  that  we  cairy 
with  us  theassentof  every  hearer,  when 
we  say,  that,  even  in  reference  to  the 
things  of  this  life,  and  much  more  of  the 
next,  there  arc  hundreds  who  have  know- 
ledge for  one  who  has  consideration. 
We  must  all  perceive  how  frequent  it  is 
for  truths  to  receive  the  assent  of  the 
understanding,  and  gain  a  lodgment  in 
the  memory  ;  and  yet,  though  they  may 
be  of  stirring  moment,  to  exert  no  in- 
fluence on  the  conduct.  If  as  fast  as  we 
gather  information  into  the  chambers  of 
the  mind,  we  were  also  gathering  motive 
into  the  recesses  of  the  soul,  it  is  evident 
that  each  page  of  Scripture,  as  we  pos- 
sessed ourselves  of  its  announcements, 
would  minister  to  our  earnestness  in 
wrestling  for  immortality.  But  the  mel- 
ancholy fact  is,  that  we  may,  and  that  we 
do,  increase  the  amount  of  information, 
without  practically  increasing  the  amount 
of  motive.  It  is  quite  supposable  that 
there  are  some  amongst  yourselves,  who, 
by  a  regular  attendance  on  Sabbath  min- 
istrations, and  by  diligent  study  of  the 
Bible,  have  acquii'ed  no  inconsiderable 
acquaintance  with  the  scheme  and  bear- 
ings of  Christianity  ;  but  who  are  never- 
theless as  worldly-minded,  in  spite  of 
their  theology,  as  though  ignorant  of  the 
grand  'truths  disclosed  by  revelation. 
We  might  subject  these  persons  to  a 
strict  examination,  and  try  them  in  the  se- 
veral departments  of  divinity.  And  they 
might  come  off  from  the  scrutiny  with  the 
greatest  applause,  and  be  pronounced  ad- 
mirably conversant  with  the  truths  of  the 
Bible.  But  of  all  the  knowledge  thus 
displayed,  there  might  not  be  a  particle 
which  wielded  any  influence  over  ac- 
tions. Tlie  whole  might  be  reposing 
inertly  in  the  solitudes  of  the  memory, 
ready  indeed  to  be  summoned  forth  when 
its  possessor  is  called  into  some  arena 
of  controversy,  but  no  more  ^voven  into 
the  business  of  every-day  life,  than  if  it 
were  knowledge  of  facts  which  are  un- 
important, or  of  truths  which  aj-e  specu- 
lative. And  the  main  reason  of  this  has 
been  already  advanced,  the  want  of  con- 
sideration. You  know  there  is  a  God  ; 
but  you  do  not  fear  this  God,  you  do 
not  live  under  a  sense  of  his  presence 
and  an  apprehension  of  his  wrath,  be- 
cause you  do  not  ctmsider  that  there  is 
a  God. 

And   we  wish  it  well  observed  that 


man  is  answerable  for  this  want  of  con- 
sideration, inasmucli  as  it  is  voluntary, 
and  not  unavoidable.  We  certainly  liave 
it  in  our  power,  not  only  to  apply  our- 
selves to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge, 
but,  when  the  knowledge  has  been  ac- 
quii'ed,  to  direct  the  attention  to  the  ten- 
dencies of  the  ascertained  truths.  If 
this  be  done,  there  is  every  likelihood 
that  the  truths  will  produce  their  right 
effects  on  the  moral  feelings  ;  if  this  be 
neglected,  the  almost  certainty  is,  that, 
whatever  their  nature,  they  will  not  call 
forth  those  emotions  which  they  are  both 
intended  and  calculated  to  excite.  The 
truths  of  revelation  arc  adapted,  accord- 
ing to  the  constitution  of  our  moral  ca- 
pacity, to  rouse  within  us  certain  feel- 
ings. And  by  fixing  the  mind  on  these 
truths,  when  investigated  and  determin- 
ed— and  this  is  adding  consideration  to 
knowledge — we  may  be  said  compara- 
tively to  insure  the  production  of  the 
feelings  which  naturally  correspond  to 
them,  and  thus  vastly  to  diminish,  if  not 
to  destroy,  the  probability  that  they  will 
fail  of  effecting  any  change  in  the  con- 
duct. ' 

You  know  sufficiently  well,  that,  if 
you  obtain  a  knowledge  of  circumstan- 
ces which  may  exert  an  influence  over 
your  temporal  condition,  you  can,  and 
in  most  cases  you  do,  give  those  circum- 
stances your  close  consideration,  and 
ponder  them  with  unwearied  assiduoiis- 
ness,  in  hopes  of  extracting  some  direc- 
tions for  your  guidaiice  in  life.  And  if 
you  were  to  fail  to  add  consideration  to 
knowledge,  you  would  fairly  be  regard- 
ed as  the  authors  of  every  disaster  which 
might  follow  on  your  not  turning  know- 
ledge to  account ;  and  the  bankruptcy, 
in  which  you  might  be  speedily  involved, 
would  excite  no  commiseration,  as  being 
altogether  chargeable  on  your  own  in- 
dolence and  indifference.  So  that,  if 
you  have  knowledge,  it  is  reckoned 
quite  your  own  fault,  if  it  rest  inertly  in 
the  mind,  in  place  of  stin-ing  up  emo- 
tions and  regulating  energies.  Your  fel- 
low-men deal  with  you  as  with  free 
agents,  possessing  the  power  of  consider- 
ing what  they  know,  and  therefore  an- 
swerable for  all  the  consequences  of  a 
want  of  consideration. 

And  what  we  wished  impressed  upon 
you  at  this  stage  of  our  discourse  is,  that 
you  must  expect  the  same  dealing  at  the 
tribunal  of  the  Almighty,  as  you  thus 


190 


ON  THE  EFFECTS  OP  CONSIDERATION. 


experience  at  the  hands  of  your  fellow- 
men.  If  it  be  once  shown  that  you  had 
the  knowledge,  you  will  be  tried  as  be- 
ings who  might  have  had  the  consider- 
ation. To  recur  to  our  illustration — you 
have  a  thorough  knowledge  that  you 
must  die.  There  passes  not  a  day  which 
does  Hot,  in  some  shape  or  other,  present 
this  fact  to  your  observation,  and  call 
upon  you,  by  emphatic  demonstrations 
of  human  mortality,  to  acknowledge 
your  own  fraility.  Ye  cannot  be  so  sure 
that  any  combination  of  circumstances 
will  issue  in  the  derangement  and  bank- 
ruptcy of  your  affairs,  as  ye  are,  that  at 
a  period  which  cannot  be  very  distant, 
ye  will  be  withdrawn  altogether  from 
these  affairs,  and  ushered  into  an  untried 
existence.  And  if,  because  you  have 
not  fastened  attention  upon  circumstan- 
ces which  threaten  you  with  temporal  ca- 
lamity, you  are  reckoned  as  having  only 
yourselves  to  blame  when  that  calamity 
bursts,  like  an  armed  man,  into  your 
households,  assuredly  you  must  hereaf- 
ter be  treated  as  your  own  wilful  destroy- 
ers if  you  make  no  preparation  for  that 
dreaded  visitant  whom  no  force  can  re- 
pulse, and  no  bribe  allure,  from  your 
doors.  We  admit  that  muoli  has  been 
taught,  and  boasted,  in  respect  to  the 
free-agency  of  man,  which  will  no  more 
bear  the  test  of  experience  than  of  Scrip- 
ture. But  we  cannot  doubt  that  man  is 
sufficiently  a  free  agent  to  make  the 
path  of  death,  in  which  he  walks,  the 
path  of  his  own  choice  ;  so  that,  just  as 
he  is  free  to  consider  what  he  knows  in 
reference  to  the  matters  of  this  life,  so 
is  he  free  to  consider  what  he  knows 
in  reference  to  the  matters  of  the  next 
life. 

And  we  give  it  you  all  as  a  warning, 
whose  energy  increases  with  your  ac- 
quaintance with  the  truths  of  revelation, 
that  God  has  gifled  you  with  an  appara- 
tus of  moral  feelings,  to  the  excitement 
of  which  the  announcements  of  Scripture 
are  most  nicely  adapted ;  and  has  thus 
80  fitted  the  Bible  to  your  constitution, 
that,  If  the  Bible  be  known,  and  you  un- 
concerned, there  is  evidence  of  wilful  in- 
difference, or  determined  opposition, 
which  will  sufTico  for  procuring  con- 
demnation at  the  judgment.  The  fact 
that  we  must  give  account  hereafter  for 
every  action,  is,  of  all  others,  fitted  to 
serve  as  a  lever  which  may  raise  into  ac- 
tivity the  powers  of  the  inner  man.     But 


then  it  is  consideration,  and  not  mer4 
knowledge,  of  such  fact  which  converts 
it  into  the  lever.  Knowledge  only  intro- 
duces it  ink)  the  mind.  But  when  intro- 
duced, it  will  lie  there  idle  and  power- 
less, unless  taken  up  and  handled  by 
consideration.  And  forasmuch  as  you 
have  full  power  of  giving  consideration 
to  the  fact — for  you  can  give  your  con- 
sideration to  a  fact  of  astronomy,  or  of 
chemistry ;  and  therefore  also,  if  you 
choose,  to  a  fact  of  theology — you  are 
clearly  answerable  for  the  inefi'ective- 
ness  of  the  fact,  if  it  never  move  the 
torpid  energies ;  and  can  expect  no- 
thing but  the  being  condemned  at  last, 
as  having  known,  but  not  having  consid- 
ered. 

But  we  have  somewhat  wandered 
from  our  text ;  at  least,  we  have  dwelt 
generally  on  the  want  of  consideration, 
in  place  of  confining  ourselves  to  the 
instance  which  the  passage  exhibits. 
We  go  back  to  our  proposition,  that  a 
fear  of  God  will  be  the  result  of  consid- 
ering :  *'  when  I  consider,  I  am  afraid  of 
him." 

It  is  our  earnest  wish  to  bring  the 
careless  amongst  you,  those  who  have 
no  dread  of  God,  to  a  sense  of  the  aw- 
fulness  of  that  mysterious  Being,  whose 
existence  indeed  you  confess,  but  of 
whom,  notwithstanding,  your  whole  life 
is  one  perpetual  defiance.  Your  fault 
is,  that,  immersing  yourselves  in  the  bu- 
siness or  pleasures  of  the  world,  you 
never  sit  down  to  a  serious  contempla- 
tion of  your  state :  in  other  words, 
that,  however  intently  you  fasten  your 
thoughts  on  vain  and  perishable  objects, 
yet,  as  creatures  who  are  just  in  the  in- 
fancy of  existence,  you  never  consider. 
And  we  have  but  little  hope  of  prevail- 
ing on  you,  by  any  urgency  of  remon- 
strance, to  give  yourselves  to  the  con- 
sidering what  you  know.  We  are  too 
well  aware  that  the  prevailing  on  a  man 
to  consider  his  ways  lies  far  beyond  the 
power  of  human  persuasion  ;  seeing  that 
the  mind  can  evade  all  external  control^ 
and,  if  it  do  not  bind  itself,  can  defy  every 
attempt  to  ovenule  or  direct.  But  we 
can  give  you  certain  of  those  processes 
of  thought  which  would  almost  neces- 
sarily be  f(dlowed  out,  where  tlicre  were 
deep  and  solemn  musings  upon  Deity. 
We  may  thus  trace  the  connection  as- 
serted in  our  text  between  considera- 
tion and   fear.     Though    this    will   not 


ON  THE  EFFECTS  OF  CONSIDERATION. 


191 


compel  you  to  consider  for  yourselves, 
it  will  leave  you  with  less  excuse  than 
ever  if  you  rest  content  with  mere  know- 
ledge ;  it  will  show  you  what  ought  to 
be  going  forward  in  your  own  minds, 
and  thus  take  away  the  plea  of  ignoi-ance, 
if  any  should  be  hardy  enough  to  ad- 
vance it. 

With  this  object,  we  will  examine  how 
fear  of  God  is  produced  by  considering 
what  we  know  of  God,  first  in  his  na- 
ture, and  secondly  in  his  works. 

Now  we  are  all  aware  how  powerful 
a  restraint  is  imposed  on  the  most  dis- 
solute and  profane,  by  the  presence  of 
an  individual  who  will  not  countenance 
them  in  their  impieties.  So  long  as  they 
are  under  observation,  they  will  not  dare 
to  yield  to  imperious  desires  :  they  must 
shrink  into  a  solitude  ere  they  will  per- 
petrate crime,  or  give  indulgence  to 
lusts.  We  can  feel  confident  in  respect 
of  the  most  worldly-minded  amongst 
you,  that,  if  there  could  be  always  at  his 
side  an  individual  of  whom  he  stood  in 
awe,  and  whose  good  opinion  he  was 
anxious  to  cultivate,  he  would  abstain 
from  many  of  his  cherished  gratifications, 
and  walk,  comparatively,  a  course  of 
self-denial  and  virtue.  He  would  be  ar- 
rested in  far  the  greater  part  of  his  pur- 
poses, if  he  knew  that  he  was  acting  un- 
der the  eye  of  this  individual ;  and  it 
would  only  be  when  assured  that  the  in- 
spection was  suspended  or  withdrawn, 
that  he  would  follow  unreseiTedly  the 
bent  of  his  desires.  But  it  is  amongst 
the  most  surprising  of  moral  phenomema, 
that  the  eflfect,  which  would  be  produced 
by  a  human  inspector,  is  scarcely  ever 
produced  by  a  divine.  If  a  man  can 
elude  the  observation  of  his  fellow-men, 
he  straightway  acts  as  though  he  had 
eluded  all  observation  :  place  him  where 
there  is  no  other  of  his  own  race,  and  he 
will  feel  as  if,  in  the  strictest  sense, 
alone.  The  remembrance  that  the  eye 
of  Deity  is  upon  him,  that  the  infinite 
God  is  continually  at  his  side — so  that 
there  is  absurdity  in  speaking  of  a  soli- 
tude ;  every  spot  throughout  the  expan- 
sions of  space  being  inhabited  by  the  Al- 
mighty— this  remembrance,  we  say,  is 
without  any  practical  effect;  or  rather 
the  fact,  though  universally  known,  is 
not  considered  ;  and  therefore  the  man, 
though  in  contact  with  his  Maker,  fancies 
himself  in  loneliness,  and  acts  as  if  cer- 
tain of  being  unobserved. 


But  let  consideration  be  superadded 
to  knowledge,  and  there  will  necessarily 
be  produced  a  fear  or  dread  of  the  Crea- 
tor. There  is  nothing  so  overwhelming^ 
to  the  mind,  when  giving  itself  to  the 
contemplation  of  a  great  first  cause,  as 
the  omnipresence  of  God.  That  if  I  were 
endowed  with  unlimited  powers  of 
motion,  so  that  in  a  moment  I  might  tra- 
verse unnumbered  leagues,  I  could  never 
for  a  lonely  instant  escape  from  God ; 
that  he  would  remain  at  the  spot  I  left, 
and  yet  be  found  at  the  spot  I  reached  ; 
of  all  truths  this  is  perhaps  the  most  be- 
wildering and  incomprehensible,  seeing 
that,  more  than  any  other,  it  separates 
the  Infinite  Being  from  all  finite.  But 
let  me  consider  this  truth  ;  let  me,  if  it 
baffle  my  understanding,  endeavor  to 
keep  it  in  active  remembrance.  Where- 
soever I  am,  and  whatsoever  I  do  "  thou, 
O  God,  seest  me."  Then  it  is  not  pos- 
sible that  the  least  item  of  my  conduct 
may  escape  observation ;  that  I  can  be 
so  stealthy  in  my  wickedness  as  to  com- 
mit it  undetected.  Human  laws  are 
often  severe  in  their  enactments  ;  but 
they  may  be  often  transgressed  without 
discovery,  and  therefore  with  impunity. 
But  there  is  no  such  possibility  in  regard 
to  divine  laws.  The  Legislator  liimself 
is  ever  at  my  side.  The  murkiness  of 
the  midnight  shrouds  me  not  from  him. 
The  solitaj-iness  of  the  scene  is  no  proof 
against  his  presence.  The  depths  of  my 
own  heart  lie  open  to  his  inspection. 
And  thus  every  action,  every  word,  every 
thought,  is  as  distinctly  marked  as 
though  there  were  none  but  myself  in 
the  universe,  and  all  the  watchfulness, 
and  all  the  scrutiny  of  God,  were  em- 
ployed on  iny  deportment.  What  then  1 
"  when  I  consider,  I  am  afraid  of  him." 
The  more  I  reflect,  the  more  awful 
God  appears.  To  break  the  law  in  the 
sight  of  the  lawgiver  ;  to  brave  the  sen- 
tence in  the  face  of  the  Judge;  there  is 
a  hardihood  in  this  which  would  seem 
to  overpass  the  worst  human  presump- 
tion ;  and  we  can  only  say  of  the  man 
who  knows  that  he  does  this  whensoever 
he  offends,  that  he  knows,  but  does  not 
consider. 

Oh  !  we  are  sure  that  an  abiding  sense 
of  God's  presence  would  put  such  a  re- 
straint on  the  outgoings  of  wickedness, 
that,  to  make  it  universal  were  almost  to 
banish  impiety  from  the  earth.  We  are 
sure  that,  if  every  man  went  to  his  busi 


192 


ON  THE  EFFECTS  OF  CONSIDERATIOX. 


ness,  or  his  recreation,  fraught  with  the 
consciousness  that  the  Being,  who  will 
decide  his  destiny  for  eternity,  accom- 
panies him  in  his  every  step,  observes 
all  his  doings,  and  scrutinizes  all  his  mo- 
tives, an  a[)})rchension  of  the  dreadful- 
ness  of  the  Almighty,  and  of  the  utter 
peril  of  violating  his  precepts,  would 
take  possession  of  the  whole  mass  of 
society  ;  and  there  would  be  a  confes- 
sion from  all  ranks  and  all  ages,  that, 
however  they  might  have  known  God  as 
the  Omnipresent,  and  yet  made  light  of 
his  authority,  when  they  considered  God 
as  the  Omnipresent,  they  were  overawed 
and  afraid  of  hira. 

But  again — it  is  not  the  mere  feeling 
that  God  exercises  a  supervision  over 
my  actions,  which  will  produce  that 
dread  of  him  which  Job  asserts  in  our 
text.  The  moral  character  of  God  will 
enter  largely  into  consideration  upon 
Deity,  and  vastly  aggravate  that  fear 
which  is  produced  by  his  omnipresence. 
Of  course,  it  is  not  the  certainty  that  a 
being  sees  me,  which,  of  itself,  will 
make  me  fear  that  being.  There  must 
be  a  further  certainty,  that  the  conduct 
to  which  I  am  prone  is  displeasing  to 
him  ;  and  that,  if  persisted  in,  it  will 
draw  upon  me  his  vengeance.  Let  me 
then  consider  God,  and  determine,  from 
his  necessary  attributes,  whether  there 
can  be  hope  that  he  will  pass  over  without 
punishment,  which  cannot  escape  his 
observation. 

We  suppose  God  just,  and  we  suppose 
him  merciful ;  and  it  is  in  settling  the 
relative  claims  of  these  properties,  that 
men  fancy  they  find  ground  for  expect- 
ing impunity  at  the  last.  The  matter  to 
be  adjusted  is,  how  a  being  confessedly 
Jove,  can  so  yield  to  the  demands  of  jus- 
tice as  to  give  up  his  creatures  to  tor- 
ment; and  the  difficulty  of  the  adjust- 
ment makes  way  for  the  flattering  pei'- 
suasion,  that  love  will  hereafter  triumph 
over  justice,  and  that  threatenings,  hav- 
ing answered  their  purpose  in  the  moral 
government  of  God,  wiirnot  be  so  rigidly 
exacted  as  to"  interfere  with  the  work- 
ings of  unbounded  compassion.  But  it 
is  not  by  considering  that  men  encourage 
themselves  in  the  thought,  that  the 
claims  of  love  and  of  justice  will  be 
found  hereafter  at  variance,  and  that,  in 
the  contest  between  the  two,  those  of 
love  will  prevail.  Tiirough  not  consider- 
ing, men  have  hope  iu  God ;  let  them 


only  consider,  and  we  are  bold  to  say 
they  will  be  afraid  of  God. 

If  I  do  but  reflect  seriously  on  the  love 
of  my  Maker,  I  must  perceive  it  to  be  a 
disposition  to  produce  the  greatest 
amount  of  happiness,  by  upholding 
through  the  universe  those  principles  of 
righteousness  with  whose  overthrow 
misery  stands  indissolubly  connected. 
But  it  is  quite  evident,  that,  when  once 
evil  has  been  introduced,  this  greatest 
amount  of  happiness  is  not  that  which 
would  result  from  the  unconditional 
pardon  of  every  worker  of  evil.  Such 
pardon  would  show  the  abandonment  of 
the  principles  of  righteousness,  and 
therefore  spread  consternation  and  dis- 
may amongst  the  unfallen  members  of 
God's  intelligent  household.  A  benevo- 
lence which  should  set  aside  justice, 
would  cease  to  be  benevolence  :  it  would 
be  nothing  but  a  weakness,  which,  in 
order  to  snatch  a  few  from  deserved 
misery  overturned  the  laws  of  moral 
government,  and  exposed  myriads  to  an- 
archy and  wretchedness.  And  yet  fur- 
ther— unless  God  be  faithful  to  his 
threatenings,  I  have  no  warrant  for  be- 
lieving that  lie  will  be  faithful  to  his 
promises ;  if  he  deny  himself  in  one,  ho 
ceases  to  be  God,  and  there  is  an  end  of 
all  reasonable  hojie  that  he  will  make 
good  the  other. 

So  that  however,  on  a  hasty  glance, 
and  forming  my  estimate  of  benevolence 
from  the  pliancy  of  human  sympathies, 
which  are  wrought  on  by  a  tear,  and  not 
proof  against  complaint,  I  may  think  that 
the  love  of  the  Almighty  will  forbid  the 
everlasting  misery  of  any  of  his  creatures  ; 
let  me  consider,  and  the  dreamy  expect- 
ation of  a  weak  and  womanish  tender- 
ness will  give  place  to  apprehension  and 
dread.  I  consider ;  and  I  see  that,  if 
God  be  not  true  to  his  word,  he  con- 
founds the  distincftions  between  evil  and 
good,  destroys  his  own  sovereignty,  and 
shakes  the  foundations  of  happiness 
through  the  universe.  I  considei-;  and 
I  perceive  that  to  let  go  unvisitcd  tho 
impenitent,  would  be  to  forfeit  the  char- 
acter of  a  righteous  moral  governor,  and 
to  proclaim  to  every  rank  of  intelligence, 
in  all  the  circuits  of  immensity,  that  law 
was  abolished,  and  disobedience  made 
safe.  I  consider ;  and  1  observe  that  a 
love,  which  triumphed  over  justice,  could 
not  be  the  love  of  a  perfect  being  :  for 
the   love  of  a  perfect   being,   whateves 


ON  THE  EFFECTS  OF  CONSIDERATION. 


193 


Its  yearnings  over  myself,  must  include 
love  of  justice  ;  so  that  I  trust  to  what 
God  cannot  feel,  when  I  trust  to  a  com- 
passion which  cannot  allow  punishment. 

And  thus,  when  I  consider  there  is  no 
resting-place  for  the  spirit  in  the  ilattcr- 
ino:  delusion,  that  in  the  moment  of 
terrihle  extremity,  when  the  misdomgs 
of  a  long  life  shall  have  given  in  their 
testimony,  mercy  will  interpose  between 
justice  and  the  ciiminal,  and  ward  off 
the  blow,  and  welcome  to  happiness. 
Every  attribute  of  Deity,  benevolence 
itself  as  well  as  justice,  and  holiness,  and 
truth,  rises  against  the  delusion,  and 
warns  me  that  to  cherish  it  is  to  go  head- 
long to  destruction.  The  theory  that 
God  is  too  lovinjj  to  take  vengeance, 
will  not  bear  being  considered.  The 
notion  that  the  judge  will  prove  less 
rigid  than  the  lawgiver,  will  not  bear 
being  considered.  The  opinion  that  the 
purposes  of  a  moral  government  may 
have  been  answered  by  the  threatening, 
so  as  not  to  need  the  infliction,  will  not 
bear  beinor  considered.  And  therefore, 
if  I  have  accustomed  myself  to  such  a 
representation  of  Deity  as  makes  bene- 
volence, falsely  so  called,  the  grave  of 
every  other  attribute  ;  and  if,  allured  by 
such  representation,  I  have  quieted  anx- 
iety, and  kept  down  the  pleadings  of 
conscience ;  consideration  will  scatter  the 
delusion,  and  gird  me  round  with  terrors  ; 
whilst  I  look  only  on  the  surface  of  things, 
I  may  be  confident,  but  when  I  consi- 
der, 1  am  afiaid. 

Oh  !  it  is  not,  as  some  would  persuade 
you,  the  dream  of  gloomy  and  miscalcu- 
lating men,  that  a  punishment,  the  very 
mention  of  which  curdles  the  blood  and 
makes  the  limbs  tremble,  awaits,  through 
the  long  hereafter,  those  who  set  at 
naught  the  atonement  efl'ected  by  Christ. 
It  is  not  the  picture  of  a  diseased  imagi- 
nation, nursed  in  error  and  trammelled 
by  enthusiasm,  that  of  God,  who  now 
plies  us  with  the  overtures  of  forgiveness, 
coming  forth  with  all  the  artillery  of 
wrath,  and  dealing  out  vengeance  on 
those  who  have  "  done  despite  to  the 
spirit  of  grace."  We  bring  the  dream 
to  the  rigid  investigations  of  wakeful- 
ness ;  we  expose  the  picture  to  the 
microscopes  of  the  closest  meditation ; 
and  when  men  would  taunt  us  with  our 
belief  in  unutterable  torments,  portioned 
out  by  a  Creator  who  loves  (with  a  love 
overpassing  language)  the  very  meanest 


of  his  creatures  ;  and  when  they  would 
smile  at  our  credulity  in  su[)]tosiiig  that 
Ciod  can  act  in  a  manner  so  repugnant 
to  his  confessed  nature ;  we  reloi  t  on 
them  at  once  the  charge  of  addjiting  an 
unsupported  theory.  We  tell  them, 
that,  if  with  them  we  could  esciijie  from 
thought,  and  smother  reflection,  then 
with  them  we  might  give  hurbiuirage  to 
the  soothing  persuasitm  that  there  is  no 
cause  for  dread,  and  that  God  is  of  too 
yearning  a  com})assion  to  resign  aught 
of  humankind  to  be  broken  on  the  wlieel 
or  scathed  by  the  fire.  J>ut  it  is  in  pro- 
portion as  the  mind  fastens  itself  upon 
God  that  alarm  is  excited.  Thought,  in 
place  of  dissij)ating,  generates  terror. 
And  thus,  paralyze  my  reason,  debar  me 
from  every  exercise  of  intellect,  reduce 
me  to  the  idiot,  and  1  shall  be  careless 
and  confident  :  but  leave  me  the  equip- 
ment and  use  of  mental  I'acullies,  and 
"  when  I  consider,  I  am  afraid  of  him." 

But  the  connection  between  consider- 
ation and  fear  will  be  yet  more  evident, 
if  the  works  of  God  engage  our  attention. 
We  have  hitherto  considered  only  the 
nature  of  God.  But  if  we  now  meditate 
on  either  creation  or  redemption,  undei 
which  two  divisions  we  may  class  the 
works  of  God,  we  shall  find  additional 
proof  of  the  truth  of  the  saying,  "  when 
I  consider,  I  am  afraid  of  him." 

Now  w^e  readily  admit  that  a  fear,  or 
dread,  of  the  Almighty  is  not  the  feeling 
ordinarily  excited  by  the  magnilicence 
of  the  heavens,  or  the  loveliness  of  a 
landscape.  It  most  freqently  happens, 
unless  the  mind  be  so  morally  deadened 
as  to  receive  no  impressions  from  the 
s])lendid  panorama,  that  senliments  of 
warm  admiration,  and  of  confidence  in 
God  as  the  benignant  Parent  of  the  uni- 
verse, are  elicited  by  exhibitions  of  crea- 
tive wisdom  and  might.  And  we  are  far 
enough  from  designing  to  assert,  that 
the  exhibitions  are  not  calculated  to  pro- 
duce such  sentiments.  We  think  that 
the  broad  and  varied  face  of  nature 
serves  as  a  mirror,  in  which  the  christian 
may  trace  much  that  is  most  endearing 
in  the  character  of  his  Maker,  We 
should  reckon  it  fair  evidence  against 
the  piety  of  an  individual,  if  he  could 
gaze  on  the  stars  in  their  courses,  or 
traveL  over  the  provinces  of  this  globe, 
and  mark  with  what  profusion  all  that 
can  minister  to  human  happiness  is  scat- 
tered around,  and  yet  be  conscious  of  no 
25 


194 


ON  THE  EFFECTS  OP  CONSIDERATION. 


ascendlngs  of  heart  towards  that  bene- 
volent Father  who  hath  given  to  nian  so 
glorious  a  dwelling,  and  overarched  it 
with  so  brilliant  a  canopy.  Where  there 
is  a  devout  spirit,  we  are  sure  that  the 
placing  a  man  whence  he  may  look  forth 
on  some  majestic  development  of  scenery, 
on  luxuriant  valleys,  and  the  amphithea- 
tre of  mountains,  and  the  windings  of 
rivers,  is  the  placing  him  where  he  will 
learn  a  new  lesson  in  theology,  and  grow 
warmer  in  hi>  love  of  that  Eternal  Being 
•'  who  in  the  beginning  created  the  hea- 
vens and  the  earth." 

But  we  speak  now  of  what  is  adapted  to 
the  producing  fear  of  God  in  the  careless 
and  unconverted  man  :  and  we  say  that 
it  is  only  through  want  of  consideration 
that  such  fear  is  not  excited  by  the  works 
of  creation,  the  unconverted  man,  as  well 
as  the  converted,  can  take  delight  in  the 
beauties  of  nature,  and  be  conscious  of 
ecstasy  of  spirit,  as  his  eye  gathers  in 
the  wonders  of  the  material  universe. 
But  the  converted  man,  whilst  the  might- 
ty  picture  is  before  him,  and  the  sublime 
features  and  the  lovely  successively  fast- 
en his  admiration,  considers  who  spread 
out  the  landscape  and  gave  it  its  splend- 
or; and  from  such  consideration  he  de- 
rives fresh  confidence  in  the  God  whom 
he  feels  to  be  his  God,  pledged  to  uphold 
him,  and  supply  his  every  want.  The 
unconverted  man,  on  the  contrary,  will 
either  behold  the  architecture  without 
giving  a  thought  to  the  architect ;  or,  ob- 
serving how  exquisite  a  regard  for  his 
well-being  may  be  traced  in  the  arrange- 
ments of  creation,  will  strengthen  him- 
self in  his  appeal  to  the  compassions  of 
Deity,  by  the  tender  solicitudes  of  which 
he  can  thus  prove  himself  the  subject. 
If  he  gather  any  feeling  from  the  spread- 
ings  of  the  landscape,  beyond  that  high- 
wrought  emotion  which  is  wakened  by 
the  noble  combinations  of  rock,  and  lake, 
and  cloud,  and  forest — just  as  though 
all  the  poetry  of  the  soul  were  respond- 
ing to  some  melodious  and  magnificent 
summons — it  is  only  the  feeling  that  God 
is  immeasurably  benevolent ;  and  that, 
having  been  so  careful  of  man's  happi- 
ness in  time,  he  will  not  abandon  him 
to  wretchedness  through  eternity. 

But  we  should  like  to  bring  this  ro- 
mantic and  Arcadian  theology  to  the 
test  of  consideration.  We  believe,  that, 
if  we  could  make  the  man  consider,  he 
would  not  be  encouraged  by  the  tokens 


of  loving-kindness  with  which  all  natnrp 
is  charactered,  to  coTitinue  the  life  of 
indifference  or  dissoluteness.  There 
are  two  ideas  which  seem  to  us  furnish- 
ed by  the  works  of  creation,  when  duly 
considered.  The  first  is,  that  nothing 
can  withstand  God  ;  the  second,  that  no- 
thing can  escape  him.  When  I  muse 
on  the  stupendousness  ofcreation  ;  when 
I  think  of  countless  worlds  built  out  of 
nothing  by  the  simple  word  of  Jehovah  ; 
my  conviction  is  that  God  must  be  irre- 
sistible, so  that  the  opposing  him  is  the 
opposing  Omnipotence.  But  if  1  cannot 
withstand  God,  I  may  possibly  escape 
him.  Insignificant  as  I  am,  an  inconsid- 
erable unit  on  an  inconsiderable  globe, 
may  I  not  be  overlooked  by  this  irresist- 
ible Being,  and  thus,  as  it  were,  be 
sheltered  by  my  littleness  1  If  I  would 
answer  this  question,  let  me  consider 
creation  in  its  minutest  departments. 
Let  me  examine  the  least  insect,  the  an- 
imated thing  of  a  day  and  an  atom. 
How  it  glows  with  deity  !  How  busy 
has  God  been  with  polishing  the  joints, 
and  feathering  the  wings,  of  this  almost 
imperceptible  recipient  of  life  !  How 
carefully  has  he  attended  to  its  every 
want,  supplying  profusely  whatever  can 
gladden  its  ephemeral  existence  !  Dare 
I  think  this  tiny  insect  overlooked  by 
God  ]  Wonderful  in  its  structure,  beau- 
tiful in  its  raiment  of  the  purple  and  the 
gold  and  the  crimson,  surrounded  abund- 
antly by  all  that  is  adapted  to  the  crav- 
ings of  its  nature,  can  I  fail  to  regard  it 
as  fashioned  by  the  skill,  and  watched 
by  the  providence,  of  him  who  "  meted 
out  heaven  with  a  span,  and  measured 
the  waters  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand  ?  " 
It  were  as  easy  to  persuade  me,  when 
considering,  that  the  archangel,  moving 
in  majesty  and  burning  with  beauty, 
is  overlooked  by  God,  as  that  this  in- 
sect, liveried  as  it  is  in  splendor  and 
throned  in  plenty,  is  unobserved  by 
Him  who  alone  could  have  formed  it. 

And  if  the  least  of  animated  things  be 
thus  subject  to  the  inspections  of  God, 
who  or  what  shall  escape  thosn  ins])ec- 
tions,  and  be  screened  by  its  insignifi- 
cance I  Till  I  consider,  I  may  fancy 
that,  occupied  with  tlie  affairs  of  an  un- 
bounded empire,  our  Maker  can  give 
nothing  more  than  a  general  attention 
to  the  inhabitants  of  a  solitary  planet  ; 
and  that  consequently  an  individual  like 
myself    may    well    hope    to   escape  tho 


ON  THE   EFFECTS  OP   CONSIDERATION. 


19tf 


Beverity  of  his  scrutiny.  But  when  I 
consider,  I  go  from  the  planet  to  the 
atom.  I  pass  from  the  population  of 
this  globe,  in  the  infancy  of  their  immor- 
tality, to  the  breathing  particles  which 
must  perish  in  the  hour  of  their  birth. 
And  I  cannot  find  that  the  atom  is  over- 
looked. I  cannot  find  that  one  of  its 
fleeting  tenantry  is  unobserved  and  un- 
cared  for.  I  consider  then ;  but  consid- 
eration scatters  the  idea,  that,  because  I 
am  but  the  insignificant  unit  of  an  insig- 
nificant race,  "  God  will  not  see,  neither 
will  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  regard." 
And  thus,  by  considering  the  works  of 
creation,  I  reach  the  persuasion  that  no- 
thing can  escape  God,  just  as  before 
that  nothing  can  withstand  him.  What 
then  will  be  the  feeling  which  consider- 
ation generates  in  reference  to  God  1 
I  consider  God  as  revealed  by  creation  ; 
and  he  appears  before  me  with  a  might 
which  can  crush  every  offender,  and 
with  a  scrunity  which  can  detect  every 
offence.  Oh  then;  if  it  be  alike  impos- 
sible to  resist  God,  and  to  conceal  from 
God,  is  he  not  a  being  of  whom  to  stand 
in  awe ;  and  shall  I  not  again  confess, 
that  "  when  I  consider,  I  am  afraid  of 
him?" 

We  would  just  observe,  in  order  to 
the  completeness  of  this  portion  of  our 
argument,  that  it  must  be  want  of  con- 
sideration which  makes  us  read  only 
God's  love  in  the  works  of  creation. 
We  say  of  the  man  who  infers  nothing 
but  the  benevolence  of  Deity  from  the 
firmament  and  the  landscape,  just  as 
though  no  other  attribute  were  graven 
on  the  encompassing  scenery,  that  he 
contents  himself  with  a  superficial  glance, 
or  blinds  himself  to  the  traces  of  wrath 
and  devastation.  That  we  live  in  a  dis- 
organized section  of  the  universe  ;  that 
our  globe  has  been  the  scene  and  subject 
of  mighty  convulsions  ;  we  hold  these 
facts  to  be  as  legible  in  the  lineaments 
of  nature,  as  that  "  the  Lord  is  good  to 
all,  and  his  tender  mercies  are  over  all 
his  works."  There  is  a  vast  deal  in  the 
appeai-ances  of  the  earth,  and  in  the  phe- 
nomena of  the  elements,  to  assure  us  that 
evil  has  been  introduced  amongst  us,  and 
has  already  provoked  the  vengeance  of 
God.  So  that  a  considering  man,  if  he 
make  the  visible  creation  the  object  of 
his  reflection,  will  reach  the  conclusion, 
that,  whatever  may  be  the  compassions 
of  his  Maker,  he  can  interfere  for  the 


punishment  of  iniquity — a  conclusion 
which  at  once  dissipates  the  hope,  that 
the  love  of  God  will  mitigate,  if  not 
remove,  deserved  penalties,  and  which 
therefore  strengthens  our  proof  that, 
when  we  consider,  we  shall  be  afraid  ot 
God. 

But  we  have  yet,  in  the  last  place,  to 
speak  briefly  on  the  noblest  of  God's 
works,  the  work  of  redemption.  Is  it 
possible  that,  if  I  consider  this  work,  I 
shall  be  afraid  of  God  ?  We  premise 
that,  throughout  our  discourse,  we  have 
endeavored  to  deal  with  popular  delu- 
sions, and  to  show  you  how  consideration, 
superadded  to  knowledge,  would  rouse 
the  careless  and  indifferent.  We  have 
maintained,  all  along,  that  the  mere 
knowledge  of  truths  may  lie  inertly  in 
the  mind,  or  furnish  ground-work  for 
some  false  and  flattering  hypothesis. 
But  this  is  saying  nothing  against  the 
worth  or  tendency  of  these  truths  ;  it  is 
wholly  directed  against  the  not  consid- 
ering what  we  know.  Thus  the  ques- 
tion with  respect  to  redemption  is  sim- 
ply, whether  this  scheme,  as  known  by 
the  mass  of  men,  may  not  lull  those  fears 
of  God  which  ought  to  be  stirring  in 
their  breasts  ;  and  whether  this  scheme, 
as  considered,  would  not  make  them 
afraid  of  God?  We  learn  from  the 
Epistles,  that  there  may  be  such  a  thing 
as  continuing  in  sin  that  grace  may 
abound —  a  fact  which  sufficiently  shows 
that  redemption  may  be  abused  ;  and  if 
abused,  it  is,  we  argue,  through  not  be- 
ing considered. 

It  is  our  duty,  as  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel  of  Christ,  to  dwell  largely  on  the 
love  which  God  feels  towards  sinners, 
and  to  point  continually  to  the  demon- 
stration of  that  love  in  the  gift  of  his  on- 
ly and  well-beloved  Son.  We  cannot 
speak  in  over-wrought  terms  of  the  read- 
iness of  the  Almighty  to  forgive,  and  of 
the  amplitude  of  the  atonement  effected 
by  the  Mediator.  We  are  charged 
with  the  offer  of  pardon  to  the  whole 
mass  of  human  kind  :  enough  that  a  be- 
ing is  man,  and  we  are  instructed  to  be- 
seech him  to  be  reconciled  to  God.  And 
a  glorious  truth  it  is,  that  no  limitations 
are  placed  on  the  proffered  forgiveness  ; 
but  that,  Christ  having  died  for  the 
world,  the  world,  in  all  its  departments 
and  generations,  may  take  salvation 
"without  money  and  without  price.** 
We  call  it  a  glorious  truth,  because  there 


196 


ON  THE  EFFECTS  OF  CONSIDERATION. 


is  thus  every  thing  to  encourage  the 
meanest  and  unworthiest,  if  they  will 
close  with  tlie  offer,  and  accept  deliver- 
ance in  the  ono  appointed  way.  But 
then  it  is  quite  possible  that  the  gospel 
offers,  thus  cheering  to  the  humble  and 
contrite,  may  be  wrested  into  an  encour- 
ag(;ment  to  the  obdui-ate  and  indifferent. 
Men  may  know  that  God  has  so  loved 
them  as  to  give  his  Son  to  die  for  them  ; 
and  then,  through  not  considering,  may 
imagine  that  a  love  thus  stupendously 
displayed,  can  never  permit  the  linal 
wretchedness  of  its  objects.  The  scheme 
of  redemption,  though  itself  the  most 
thrilling  homily  against  sin,  may  be 
viewed  by  those  who  would  fain  build 
on  the  uncovenanted  mercies  of  God,  as 
proving  a  vast  iraprobabilty  that  crea- 
tnres,  so  beloved  as  ourselves,  and  pur- 
chased at  so  inconceivable  a  price,  will 
ever  be  consigned  to  the  ministry  of  ven- 
geance. Hence,  because  they  know 
the  fact  of  this  redemption,  the  careless 
amongst  you  have  ho[)e  in  God  ;  but,  if 
they  considered  this  fact,  they  would  be 
afraid  of  him. 

There  is  nothing  which,  when  deeply 
pondered,  is  more  calculated  to  excite 
fears  of  God,  than  that  marvellous  inter- 
position on  our  behalf  which  is  the  alone 
basis  of  legitimate  hope.  When  I  con- 
sider redemption,  what  a  picture  of  God's 
hatred  of  sin  rises  before  me;  what  an 
exhibition  of  his  resolve  to  allow  justice 
to  exact  all  its  claims.  The  smoking 
cities  of  the  plain  ;  the  deluged  earth 
with  its  overwhelmed  population ;  the 
scattered  Jews,  strewing  the  globe  like 
the  fragments  of  a  mighty  shipwreck — 
nothing  can  tell  mo  so  emphatically  as 
Christ  dying,  "  the  just  for  the  unjust," 
bow  God  abhors  sin,  and  how  determined 
he  is  to  punish  sin.  And  if  Crod  could 
deal  so  awfully  and  terribly  with  his  own 
Son,  vvlien  bearing  the  weight  of  imput- 
ed transgression,  will  he  spare  me — oh, 
it  is  as  though  he  loved  me  better  than 
his  Son — if  1  appear  before  him  with 
the  burden  of  unrepented  sins  ;  if,  per- 
verting his  efforts  to  turn  me  from  ini- 
quity into  encouragements  to  brave  all 
Ills  threatening^,  I  build  on  the  atone- 
ment whilst  I  break  llie  commandments? 
I  consider  God  as  manifested  in  redemp- 
tion ;  he  shows  himself  a  holy  God,  and 
therefore  do  I  fear  him.  lie  dis[)l:iys 
his  determination  to  take  vengeance,  a;id 
therefore  do  I   fear  him.     He  i^xIuImls 


the  fixed  principles  of  his  moral  govern- 
ment, and  therefore  do  1  fear  him.  He 
bids  the  sword  awake  against  his  fellow, 
and  therefore  do  I  fear  him.  He  writes 
the  condemnation  of  the  impenitent  in 
the  blood  which  cleanses  those  who  be- 
lieve, and  therefore  do  1  fear  liim.  Oh, 
I  might  cast  a  hasty  glance  at  the  scheme 
of  redemption,  and  observe  little  more 
than  the  immeasured  loving-kindness 
which  it  manifests.  I  might  gather  from 
it  the  preciousness  of  the  human  soul  in 
God's  sight,  a  preciousness  so  vast  that 
its  loss  must  be  a  catastrophe  at  which 
the  universe  shudders,  seeing  its  redemp- 
tion was  effected  amid  the  throes  and 
convulsions  of  nature.  And  this  might 
confirm  me  in  the  delusion  that  I  may 
sin  with  impunity.  But  let  me  reflect 
on  the  scheme,  and  God  is  before  me, 
robed  in  awfulness  and  clothed  with 
judgment,  vindicating  the  majesty  of  his 
insulted  law  and  relaxing  not  one  tittle 
of  its  penalties,  bearing  out  to  the  letter 
the  words  of  the  prophet,  "  the  Lord  will 
take  vengeance  on  his  adversaries,  and 
he  reserveth  wrath  for  his  enemies  ;"  and 
therefore  it  must  be  with  redemption,  as 
it  is  with  creation,  "  When  I  consider,  I 
am  afraid  of  him." 

And  now,  brethren,  what  words  shall 
we  use  of  you  but  these  of  Moses,  "  O 
that  they  were  wise,  that  they  understood 
this,  that  they  would  consider  their  latter 
end  1 "  We  simply  wish  to  bring  you  to 
consider  ;  and  then,  we  believe,  you  will 
both  discover  what  is  duty,  and  deter- 
mine to  follow  it. 

This  is  the  sum  of  what  we  have  to 
urge  in  respect  to  the  charity  which  now 
solicits  your  support.  Consider  what  is 
your  duty  towards  your  benighted  coun- 
trymen, and  we  have  no  fears  of  your 
failing  to  be  liberal  in  your  contribution. 
It  is  only  through  the  not  considering, 
the  not  considering  that  you  are  merely 
stewards  of  your  property,  the  not  con- 
sidering that  Christ  is  to  be  minister- 
ed to  in  the  persons  of  the  destitute,  the 
not  considering  that  "  he  that  hath  ]»ity 
on  the  poor  lendelh  to  the  Lord  ;  "  it  is 
only  from  such  causes  as  these,  so  pal- 
pable and  urgent  is  the  duty,  that  you 
can  fail  to  give  hearty  support  to  the 
institution  which  now  appeals  to  your 
bounty.  The  exclusive  object  of  the 
Irish  Society  is  to  communicate  rcligous 
knowledge  to  the  peasantry  of  Ireland 
tlirou"!'    'ho  medium    of  t|io    Irish  Ian 


ON  THE  EFFECTS  nV  CONSIDERATION. 


197 


guage.     There  are  nearly  three  millions 
of  incHviduals  in  Ireland  vvhu  can  speak 
the  Irish  language;  an  J  of  these  at  least 
five  hundred  thousand  can  speak  no  other. 
There  are   five    hundred    thousand    of 
your  countrymen,  to  whom  the  Hebrew 
tongue  would  be  as  intelligible  as  the 
English  ;   and  who  can  no  more  be  ap- 
proached   through  the  medium  of  our 
national  speech,  than  the  rude  Hottentot 
or  the  Arab  of  the  desert.     And  this  is 
not  all.     There  are  indeed  hundreds  and 
thousands  in    Ireland,  who   understand 
and  speak  the  English  tongue  as  well  as 
the  Irish  ;  but  it  does  not    follow  that 
they   are  as   ready  to  receive  religious 
instruction  through  the  one  as  through 
the  other.     The  case  is  just  the  reverse. 
I  cannot  express  to  you  the  attachment, 
the  devoted  and  even  romantic  attach- 
ment which  an  Irish-speaking  peasant  has 
for  his  native  dialect.     It  is  a  chivalrous 
attachment.     It  is  even  a  superstitious 
attachment.     He  beheves  that  no  here- 
tic can  learn  Irish,  and  that  consequently 
nothing   but  truth    can   be    written    or 
spoken  in  Irish.     And  thus,  if  you  will 
only  take  advantage  of  his  prejudices, 
you  can  at  once  induce  him  to  receive 
and  read  the  Holy  Scriptures.    Give  him 
an  English  Bible,  and  he  will  scarcely 
dare  open  it,  because  pronounced  he- 
retical by  his  priest.     But  give  him  an 
Irish  Bible,  and  no  menaces  can  induce 
its  surrender  ;   the  book  is  in  Irish,  and 
he  knows  therefore  that  it  cannot  contain 
heresy.     And  does  not  this  demonstrate 
the  importance  of  employing  the  Irish 
language  as  a  vehicle  for  the  communi- 
cation of  religious  instruction  ;  and  does 
not  a  Society,  which  is  acting  through 
this   language,  come   before    you    with 
special  claims  on  your  liberal  support  ] 
I  turn  to  Ireland,  and  I  perceive  that 
nature   has   done  much   for  that  which 
poetry  calls  the  emerald  isle  of  the  ocean. 
There  is  fertihty  in  her  soil,  and  majesty 
in  her  mountains,  and  luxuriance  in  her 
valleys,  and  a   loveliness  in  her   lakes, 
which    makes   them  rivals   to  those  in 
which  Italian  skies  glass  their  deep  azure. 
And  the  character  of  her  children  is  that 
of  a  lofty  and  generous  heroism  ;  for  I 
believe  not  that  there  is  a  nation  under 
heaven,  possessing  more  of  the  elements 
than  belong  to  the  Irish,  of  what  is  bold, 
and  disinterested,  and  liberal.    And  with- 
out question  it  is  a  phenomenon,  at  which 
we  may  well  be  startled  and  amazed, 


to  behold  Ireland,  in  spite  of  the  advant- 
ages to  whicli  1  have  referred,  in  spite 
of  her  close  alliance  with  the  home  and 
mistress  of  arts  and  liberty,  torn  by  in- 
testine factions,  and  harassed  bylhel'euda 
and  commotions  of  her  tenantry.  Of 
such  phenomenon  the  solution  would  he 
hopeless,  if  we  did  not  know  tliat  Ire- 
land is  oppressed  by  a  bigoted  faith,  be- 
strid  by  that  giant  corru})ter  of  Chris- 
tianity, who  knows,  and  acts  on  the  know- 
ledge, that  to  enlighten  ignorance  were 
to  overthrow  his  empire.  It  is  because 
Ireland  is  morally  benighted  that  she  is 
physically  degraded  ;  and  the  engines 
which  must  be  turned  on  her,  to  raise 
her  to  her  due  rank  in  the  scale  of 
nations,  are  religious  rather  than  politi- 
cal;  she  can  be  throughly  civilized 
only  by  being  throughly  christianized. 

And  certainly,  if  there  were  ever  a 
time  when  it  was  incumbent  upon  pro- 
testants  to  labor  at  spreading  the  pure 
Gospel  through  Ireland,  this  is  that  time. 
Popery  is  making  unparalleled  efforts 
to  expel  protestantism  altogether.  Shall 
then  the  protestantism  of  England  stand 
tamely  by,  as  though  it  had  no  interest 
in  the  struggle  1  We  are  persuaded, 
on  the  contrary,  that,  as  protestants,  you 
will  feel  it  alike  your  duty,  and  your 
privilege,  to  aid  to  the  best  of  your 
ability  institutions  which  provide  a 
scriptural  instruction  for  the  peasantry  of 
Ireland.  And  whilst  we  gladly  confess 
that  other  societies  have  labored  vigor- 
ously and  successfully  for  this  great  ob- 
ject, we  think  from  the  reasons  already 
advanced,  that  none  employs  a  more 
admirable  agency  than  that  for  which  we 
plead ;  and  therefore  are  we  earnest  in 
entreating  for  it  your  liberal  support. 
The  Irisii  society  will  bear  being  con- 
sidered ;  we  ask  you  to  consider  ita 
claims,  and  we  feel  confident  you  will  ac- 
knowledge their  urgency. 

I  cannot  add  more.  I  may  have  al- 
ready detained  you  too  long  ;  l5ut  I  know 
not  when  I  may  speak  again  in  this  place ; 
and  I  desire,  ere  I  go,  to  have  proof, 
from  your  zeal  for  the  souls  of  others, 
that  you  are  anxious  in  regard  to  your 
own  salvation.  We  must  fear  of  many 
amongst  you,  that  they  hear  sermons, 
but  do  not  consider.  Companions  die 
around  them,  but  they  do  not  consider. 
They  meet  funerals  as  they  walk  the 
streets,  but  they  do  not  consider.  They 
are  warned  by  sickness    and  affliction, 


198 


THE  TWO  SONS. 


but  they  do  not  consider.  They  feel 
that  age  is  creeping  upon  them,  but 
they  do  not  consider.  What  shall  we  say 
to  you  1  Will  ye  continue  to  give  cause 
for  the  application  to  yourselves  of  those 
touching  words  of  God  by  his  prophet, 
"  The  ox  knoweth  his  owner,  and  the  ass 
his  master's  crib,  but  Israel  doth  not 
know,  my  people  doth  not  consider]" 
Preachers  cannot  make  you  consider. 
They  exhort  you,  they  entreat  you,  they 
tell  you  of  a  Savior,  and  of  the  utter 
ruin  of  going  on  still  in  your  wickedness. 


But  they  cannot  make  you  consider. 
You  must  consider  for  yourselves  ;  you 
must,  for  yourselves,  ask  God's  Spirit  to 
aid  you  in  considering.  Would  that 
you  might  consider ;  for  when  the  trum- 
pet is  sounding,  and  the  dead  are  stir- 
ring, you  will  be  forced  to  consider, 
though  it  will  be  too  late  for  consideration 
to  produce  any  thing  but  unniingled 
ten-or — Oh,  can  you  tell  me  the  agony 
of  being  compelled  to  exclaim  at  the 
judgment,  "  when  I  consider  I  am  afraid 
of  Him  1 " 


18  3  7. 


SERMON. 


THE  TWO  SONS. 


'  But  what  tliink  ye?  A  certain  man  had  two  sons  ;  and  he  camo  to  t]io  first,  and  said,  Son,  go  work  to-day  in  my 
vineyard.  He  answered  and  said,  I  will  not;  but  afterward  he  repented  and  went.  And  ho  came  to  the  aecoud, 
and  said  likewise.    And  he  answered  and  said,  I  go,  Sir,  and  went  not." — St.  Matthew,  xxi.  28,  29,  30. 


Our  Savior  had  such  knowledge  of  the 
human  heart,  and  such  power  of  express- 
ing that  knowledge,  that  he  frequently 
gives  us,  in  one  or  two  bold  outlines, 
descripti(jns  of  great  classes  into  which 
the  world,  or  the  church,  may  be  divided. 
There  is  no  more  remarkable  instance 
of  this  than  the  parable  of  the  sower,  with 
which  we  may  suppose  you  all  well  ac- 
quainted. In  that  parable  Christ  fur- 
nishes desciiplioiis  of  four  classes  of  the 
hearers  of  the  Gospel,  each  description 
being  brief,  and  fetched  from  the  char- 
acter of  the  soil  on  which  the  sower  cast 
his  seed.  But  the  singularity  is,  that 
these  four  classes  include  the  whole  mass 
of  hearers,  so  that,  when  combined, 
they  make  up  either  the  world  or  the 
church.  You  cannot  imagine  any  fifth 
class.     For  in  every  man  wlio  is  brought 


within  sound  of  the  Gospel,  the  seed 
must  be  as  that  by  the  wayside,  which 
is  quickly  carried  away,  or  as  that  on 
shallow  soil,  where  the  roots  cannot 
strike,  or  as  that  among  thorns,  which 
choke  all  the  produce,  or  finally,  as  that 
which,  falling  on  a  well  prepared  place, 
yields  fruit  abundantly.  You  may  try 
to  find  hearers  who  come  not  under  any 
one  of  these  descrij^tions,  but  you  will 
not  succeed  ;  whilst,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  world  has  never  yet  presented  an 
assemblage  of  mixed  hearers,  which 
might  not  be  resolved  into  these  four 
divisions.  And  wo  regard  it  as  an  ex- 
traordinary evidence  of  the  sagacity,  if 
the  expression  bo  lawful,  of  our  Lord, 
of  his  superhuman  jjcnetration,  and  of 
his  marvellous  facility  in  condensing 
volumes  into  sentences,  that  he  has  thua 


THE    TWO  SONS. 


199 


furnished,  in  few  words,  a  sketch  of  the 
whole  world  in  its  every  age,  and  given 
us,  within  the  compass  of  a  dozen 
lines,  the  moral  history  of  our  race, 
as  acted  on  by  the  preaching  of  the  Gos- 
pel. 

We  make  this  reference  to  the  para- 
ble of  the  sower,  because  we  consider  it 
rivalled  in  its  comprehensiveness,  and 
the  unvarying  accuracy  of  its  descrip- 
tions, by  the  portion  of  Holy  Writ  on 
which  we  now  purpose  to  discourse. 
We  do  not  mean  that  the  two  sons  can 
represent  the  whole  world,  or  the  whole 
church,  in  the  same  manner  or  degree 
as  the  four  classes  of  hearers.  There 
would  manifestly  be  a  contradiction  in 
this  ;  for  if  there  be  four  parts  into  which 
the  whole  may  be  divided,  it  were  absurd 
to  contend  for  the  equal  propriety  of  a 
division  into  two.  But  we  nevertheless 
believe  that  two  very  large  classes  of 
persons,  subsisting  in  every  age  of  the 
church,  are  represented  by  the  two  sons, 
and  that,  therefore,  in  delivering  the 
parable  before  us,  as  well  as  that  of  the 
sower,  Christ  displayed  his  more  than 
human  acquaintance  with  mankind,  and 
his  power  of  delineating,  by  the  simplest 
figures,  the  reception  of  his  Gospel  to 
the  very  end  of  time.  All  this,  however, 
will  become  more  evident,  as  we  pro- 
ceed with  the  exposition  of  the  passage, 
and  show  you,  as  we  think  to  do,  that 
centuries  have  made  no  difference  in  the 
faithfulness  of  the  sketch. 

You  will  observe  that  the  parable,  or 
illustration,  or  real  history — for  it  mat- 
ters little  which  term  you  assign  to  this 
portion  of  Scripture — is  introduced  by 
our  Lord,  whilst  holding  a  discourse 
with  the  priests  and  elders  in  the  temple. 
They  had  come  round  him,  demanding 
by  what  authority  he  acted — as  though 
he  had  not  given  sufficiently  clear  proof 
that  his  mission  was  from  God.  Where 
the  demand  was  so  unreasonable,  Jesus 
would  not  vouchsafe  a  direct  answer. 
He  therefore  made  his  reply  conditional 
on  their  telling  him  whether  the  baptism 
of  John  was  from  heaven  or  of  men. 
He  thus  brought  them  into  a  dilemma 
from  which  no  sophistry  could  extricate 
them.  If  they  allowed  the  divine  cha- 
racter of  John's  baptism,  they  laid  them- 
selves open  to  the  charge  of  gross  incon- 
sistency, in  not  having  believed  him,  and 
in  denying  the  Messiahship  of  him  whom 
he  heralded.     But  if,  on  the  other  hand. 


they  uttered  what  they  really  thought, 
and  affirmed  John's  baptism  to  have 
been  of  men,  they  felt  that  they  should 
excite  the  multitude  against  themselves, 
inasmuch  as  the  jieople  held  the  Baptist 
for  a  prophet.  They  therefore  thought 
it  most  prudent  to  pretend  ignorance,  and 
to  declare  themselves  unable  to  decide 
whence  the  baptism  was.  Hence  the 
condition  on  which  Christ  had  promised 
to  answer  their  (juestion  not  having  been 
fulfilled,  they  could  not  press  him  with 
any  further  inquiry,  but  remained  in  the 
position  of  disappointed  aud  baffled  an- 
tagonists. 

It  consisted  not  however  with  the  Sa- 
vior's character,  that  he  should  content 
himself  with  gaining  a  triumph  over  op- 
ponents, as  though  he  had  reasoned  only 
for  the  sake  of  display.  He  had  severe- 
ly mortified  his  bitterest  enemies,  by 
turning  their  weapons  against  them- 
selves, and  bringing  them  into  a  strait  in 
which  they  were  exposed  to  the  con- 
tempt of  the  bystanders.  But  it  was 
their  good  which  he  sought ;  and  when, 
therefore,  he  had  silenced  them,  he 
would  not  let  slip  the  oppoitunity  of 
setting  befoi'e  them  their  condition,  and 
adding  another  warning  to  the  many 
which  had  been  uttered  in  vain.  The 
declaration  of  ignorance  in  regard  to 
John's  baptism,  suggested  the  course 
which  his  remonstrance  should  take, 
according  to  his  wellknown  custom  of 
allowing  the  occasion  to  furnish  the  to- 
pic of  his  preaching.  He  delivers  the 
parable  which  forms  our  sulyect  of  dis- 
course, and  immediately  follows  it  up  by 
the  question,  "  whether  of  them  twain 
did  the  will  of  his  father  1  "  There  was 
no  room  here  for  either  doubt  or  evasion. 
It  was  so  manifest  that  the  son,  who  had 
refused  at  first,  but  who  had  afterwards 
repented  and  gone  to  the  vineyai'd,  was 
more  obedient  than  the  other,  who  had 
made  a  profession  of  willingness,  but 
never  redeemed  his  promise,  that  even 
priests  and  elders  could  not  avoid  sfivinfir 
a  right  decision.  And  now  Christ  show- 
ed what  his  motive  had  been  in  deliver- 
ing the  parable,  and  proposing  the  ques- 
tion ;  for  so  soon  as  he  had  obtained 
their  testimony  in  favor  of  the  first  son, 
he  said  to  them,  "  Verily  I  say  unto 
you  that  the  publicans  and  the  har- 
lots go  into  the  kingdom  of  God  before 
you." 

We  gather  at  once,  from  this  startling 


200 


THE  TWO  SONS. 


and  severe  saying,  that  by  the  second 
son  ill  the  parable,  Clirist  intended  the 
leading  men  among  the  Jews,  and,  by 
the  first,  tliose  dc.sj>iscd  and  protligate 
ranks  with  which  ])harisees  and  scribes 
wouKl  not  iiold  the  least  intercourse. 
The  pul)licans  and  harlots,  as  he  goes 
on  to  observe,  had  received  John  the 
Baptist ;  for  numbers  had  repented  at 
his  preaching.  But  the  priests  and 
elders,  according  to  their  own  confession 
just  made,  had  not  acknowledged  him  as 
coming  from  God,  and  had  not  been 
brought  by  him  to  amendment  of  life. 
And  this  was  precisely  the  reverse  of 
what  the  profession  of  the  several  parties 
had  given  right  to  expect.  The  priests 
and  elders,  making  a  great  show  of  reli- 
gion, and  apparently  eager  expectants 
of  the  promised  Messiah,  seemed  only 
to  require  to  be  directed  to  the  vineyard, 
and  tliey  would  immediately  and  cheer- 
fully go.  On  the  other  hand,  the  pub- 
licans and  harlots,  persons  of  grossly  im- 
moral and  profligate  habits,  might  be 
said  to  declare,  by  their  lives,  an  obsti- 
nate resolve  tocontluuein  disobedience, 
so  that,  if  told  to  go  work  in  the  vineyard, 
their  answer  would  be  a  contemptuous 
refusal.  Yet  when  the  matter  came  to 
be  put  to  the  proof,  the  result  was  wide- 
ly different  from  what  appearances  had 
piomised.  The  great  men  amongst  the 
Jews,  whose  whole  profession  was  that 
of  parties  waiting  to  know,  that  they 
might  perform,  God's  will,  were  bidden 
by  the  Baptist  to  receive  Jesus  as  their 
Savior ;  but  notwithstanding  all  their 
promises,  they  treated  him  as  a  deceiver, 
and  would  not  join  themselves  to  his 
disciples.  The  same  message  was  deliv- 
ered to  the  publicans  and  harlots  ;  but 
these,  whatever  the  reluctance  which 
they  manifested  at  first,  came  in  crowds 
to  h(!ar  Jesus,  and  took  by  force  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  And  all  this  was 
aptly  illustrated  by  the  parable  before 
us.  The  great  men  were  the  second 
eon  ;  for  they  had  said,  "  I  go,  sir,"  and 
yet  they  went  not :  the  publicans  and 
harlots  were  the  first  son  ;  for  though, 
when  bidden,  they  refused,  yet  after- 
wards they  repented  and  went. 

Such  was  evidently  the  import  and 
design  of  the  parable,  as  originally  de- 
livered by  Jesus.  It  is  possible,  indeed, 
that  there  may  have  been  also  a  refer- 
ence to  the  Jew  and  the  Gentile ;  the  two 
eons  representing,  as  they  elsewhere  do. 


these  two  great  divisions  of  mankind. 
The  Jews  as  a  nation,  were  aptly  fig- 
ured by  the  second  son,  the  Gentiles  by 
the  first.  Both  had  the  same  father — 
seeing  that,  however  close  the  union  be- 
tween C!od  and  the  Jews,  and  however 
the  Gentiles  had  been  left,  for  centuries, 
to  themselves,  there  was  no  difference 
in  origin,  inasmuch  as  the  whole  race 
had  the  same  Lord  for  its  parent.  And 
the  Jews  stood  ready  to  welcome  their 
Messiah  ;  whereas  little  could  be  expect- 
ed from  the  Gentiles,  sunk  as  they  were 
in  ignorance  and  superstition,  but  that, 
if  directed  to  a  Savior,  they  would  treat 
with  contempt  the  free  of!er  of  life. 
Here  again,  however,  the  event  was  the 
reverse  of  the  expectation.  The  Gospel 
made  little  way  amongst  the  Jews,  where 
there  had  been  every  promise  of  a  cor- 
dial reception  ;  but  rapidly  overran  the 
Gentile  world,  where  there  had  seemed 
least  likelihood  of  its  gaining  any  ground. 
So  that  once  more  the  parable,  if  taken 
in  the  light  of  a  prophecy,  was  accu- 
rately fulfilled.  The  Jew,  as  the  sec<md 
son,  had  promised  to  go  and  work  in  the 
vineyard,  and  then  never  went  :  the  Gen- 
tile, as  the  first  son,  had  peremptorily 
refused,  but  afterwards  saw  his  error, 
and  repented,  and  obeyed. 

But  whilst  there  may  be  great  justice 
in  thus  giving  the  parable  a  rational,  or 
temporary  application,  our  chief  business 
is  to  treat  it,  according  to  our  introduc- 
tory remarks,  as  descriptive  of  two  class- 
es in  every  age  of  the  church.  It  is  this 
which  we  shall  now  proceed  to  do,  be- 
lieving that  it  furnishes,  in  a  more  than 
common  degree,  the  material  of  interest- 
ing and  instructive  discourse. 

Now  it  is  a  very  frequent  image  in 
Scripture,  that  which  represents  the 
Church  of  Christ  as  a  vineyard,  and  our- 
selves as  laborers  who  have  been  hired 
to  work  in  that  vineyard.  We  shall  not, 
on  the  present  occasion,  enlarge  on  this 
image,  nor  take  pains  to  show  you  its 
beauty  and  fidelity,  AVe  shall  find 
enough  to  engage  us  in  the  other  parts 
of  the  parable,  and  may  therefore  as- 
sume what  you  are  probably  all  prepar- 
ed to  admit.  We  go  theji  at  once  to  the 
message  which  is  delivered  to  each  of 
the  sons,  "  Son,  go  work  to-day  in  my 
vineyard."  It  is  precisely  the  message, 
which,  Sabbath  after  Sabballi,  is  uttered 
in  God's  name  by  the  ordained  ministers 
of  Christ.      We  are  never  at  liberty  to 


THE   TWO  SONS. 


201 


make  you  any  offers  for  to-morrow,  but 
must  always  tell  you,  that  "  if  to-day  you 
will  hear  his  voice,"  he  is  ready  to  re- 
ceive you  into  the  vineyard  of  his  church. 
And  it  is  not  to  a  life  of  inactivity  and 
idleness  that  we  are  bidden  to  summon 
you,  not  to  that  inert  dependence  on  the 
merits  of  another,  which  shall  exclude 
all  necessity  for  personal  striving.  We 
call  you,  on  the  contrary,  to  work  in  the 
vineyard.  If  you  think  to  bo  saved  with- 
put  labor;  if  you  imagine,  that,  because 
Christ  has  done  all  that  is  necessary,  in 
the  way  of  merit,  there  remains  nothing 
to  be  done  by  yourselves  in  the  way  of 
condition,  you  are  yielding  to  a  delusion 
which  must  be  as  wilful  as  it  will  be  fa- 
tal— the  whole  tenor  of  Scripture  unre- 
servedly declaring,  that,  if  you  would  en- 
ter into  life,  you  must  "  work  out  your 
salvation  with  fear  and  trembling." 
And  thus  the  message,  '*  Son,  go  work 
to-day  in  my  vineyard,"  is,  in  every  re- 
spect, that  which  God  is  continually  ad- 
dressing to  you  through  the  mouth  of  his 
ministering  servants,  a  message  declara- 
tory that  "  now  is  the  accepted  time," 
and  requiring  you  to  put  forth  every  en- 
ergy that  you  may  escape  "  the  wrath  to 
come." 

And  now  the  question  is,  as  to  the  re- 
ception with  which  this  message  meets  ; 
and  whether  there  be  not  two  great 
classes  of  its  hearers  who  are  accurately 
represented  by  the  two  sons  in  the  par- 
able. We  do  not  pretend  to  affirm,  as 
we  have  already  intimated,  that  the  whole 
mass  of  unconveited  men  may  fairly  be 
resolved  under  the  two  divisions  thus 
figuratively  drawn.  We  are  well  aware 
of  the  prevalence  of  an  indifference  and 
apathy,  which  can  hardly  be  roused  to 
any  kind  of  answer,  either  to  a  specious 
promise,  made  only  to  be  broken,  or  to 
a  harsh  i-efusal,  which  may  perhaps  be 
turned  into  compliance.  But  without 
pretending  to  include  all  under  these  di- 
visions, we  may  and  do  believe  that  the 
multitude  is  very  large  which  may  be 
thus  defined  and  classified.  We  suppose, 
that,  after  all,  most  way  is  made  by  the 
preachers  of  the  Gospel  when  there 
seems  least  prospect  of  success  ;  and 
that,  as  it  was  in  the  days  when  Christ 
was  on  eaith,  those  who  promise  fairest 
give  most  disappointment,  whilst  the 
harvest  is  reaped  where  we  looked  only 
for  sterility.  This  however  is  a  matter 
which  should  be  carefullyexamined,  and 


we  shall  therefore  employ  the  remainder 
of  our  discourse  in  considering  separately 
the  cases  of  the  two  sons,  begimiing  with 
that  of  the  second,  who  said,  "I  go,  sir, 
and  went  not,"  and  then  proceeding  to 
that  of  the  first,  who  said,  "  I  will  not, 
but  afterward  he  repented  and  went." 

Now  there  is  in  many  men  a  warmth 
of  natural  feeling,  and  a  great  suscepti- 
bility, which  make  them  promising  sub- 
jects for  any  stirring  and  touching  appeal. 
They  are  easily  excited  ;  and  both  their 
fears  and  spmpathies  will  readily  answer 
to  a  powerful  address  or  a  sorrow- 
ful narrative.  They  are  not  made  of 
that  harsh  stuff  which  seems  the  predom- 
inant element  in  many  men's  constitu- 
tions ;  but  on  the  contraiy,  are  yielding 
and  malleable,  as  though  the  moral  artifi- 
cer might  work  them  without  difficulty, 
into  what  shape  he  would.  We  are  well 
convinced  that  there  are  many  who  answer 
this  description  in  every  congregation, 
and  therefore  in  the  present.  It  is  far 
from  our  feeling,  that,  when  we  put  forth 
all  our  earnestness  in  some  appeal  to  the 
conscience,  or  come  down  upon  you  with 
our  warmest  entreaty,  that  you  would 
accept  the  deliverance  proposed  by  the 
Gospel,  we  are  heard  on  all  sides  with 
coldness  and  indiflerence.  W^e  have 
quite  the  opposite  feeling.  W^e  do  not 
doubt,  that,  as  the  appeal  goes  forward, 
and  the  entreaty  is  pressed,  there  are 
some  who  are  conscious  of  a  warmth  of 
sentiment,  and  a  melting  of  heart ;  and 
in  whom  there  is  excited  so  much  of  a 
determination  to  forsake  sin,  and  obey 
God,  that,  if  we  could  ply  each  with  the 
command,  "  go,  work  to-day  in  my  vine- 
yard," we  should  receive  a  promise  of 
immediate  compliance. 

It  is  not  that  these  men  or  these  wo- 
men are  undergoing  a  change  of  heart, 
though  there  may  be  that  in  the  feelings 
thus  excited,  which,  fairly  followed  out, 
would  lead  to  a  thorough  renovation. 
It  is  only  that  they  are  made  of  a  mate- 
rial on  which  it  is  very  easy  to  work ; 
but  which,  alas,  if  it  have  great  facility 
for  receiving  impressions,  may  have  just 
as  much  in  allowing  them  to  be  effaced. 
And  what  is  done  by  a  faithful  sermon  is 
done  also  by  providential  dispensations, 
when  God  addresses  these  parties 
through  some  affliction  or  bereavement. 
If  you  visit  them,  when  death  has  enter- 
ed their  households,  you  find  nothing  of 
the  harshness  and  reserve  of  sullen  grief; 

26 


202 


THE  TWO  SONS. 


but  all  that  openness  to  counsel,  and  all  I 
that  readiness  to  own  the  mercy  of  the  , 
judgment  wliich  seem  indicative  of  such 
a  softening  of  the  heart  as  promises  to  ; 
issue  in  its  genuine  conversion.     If  you  | 
treat  the  chastisement  under  which  they  I 
labor  as  a  message  from  God,  and  trans- 
late it  thus  into  common  language,  "  Son, 
go  work    to-day  in  my  vineyard,"  you 
meet  with  no  signs  of  dislike  or  reluct- 
ance, but  rather  with  a  ready  assent  that 
you  give  the  true  meaning,  and  with  a 
frank  resolution  that  God  shall  not  speak 
in  vain. 

We  put  it  to  yourselves  to  determine 
whether  we  are  not  describing  a  common 
case  ;  whether,  if  you  could  dissect  our 
congregations,  you  would  not  find  a 
large  mass  of  persons  who  seem  quite 
accessible  to  moral  attack ;  whom  you 
may  easily  startle  by  a  close  address  to 
the  conscience,  or  overcome  by  a  pa- 
thetic and  plaintive  description  ;  and  on 
whom  when  affliction  falls,  it  falls  with 
that  subduing  and  penetrating  power 
which  gives  room  for  hope  that  it  will 
bring  them  to  repentance.  And  where- 
soever these  cases  occur,  they  may  evi- 
dently, so  far  as  we  have  gone,  be  iden- 
tified with  that  of  the  second  son  in  the 
parable  ;  for  whilst  the  address  to  the 
parties  is  one  which  urges  to  the  work- 
ing in  the  vineyard,  their  answer  has  all 
the  promise,  and  all  the  respectfulness, 
contained  in  the  "  I  go,  sir,"  of  our  text. 

But  the  accuracy  of  the  delineation 
does  not  end  here.  We  must  follow 
these  excited  listeners  from  the  place  of 
assembling,  and  these  subdued  mourners 
from  the  scene  of  affliction.  Alas,  how 
soon  is  it  apparent  that  what  is  easily 
roused  may  be  as  easily  lulled  ;  and  that 
you  liave  only  to  remove  the  incumbent 
weight  and  the  former  figure  is  regained. 
The  m.en  who  have  been  all  attention  to 
the  preacher,  whom  he  seemed  to  have 
brought  completely  under  command,  so 
that  they  were  ready  to  follow  him 
whithersoever  he  would  lead,  settle  back 
into  their  listlessness  when  the  stimulant 
of  the  sermon  is  withdrawn;  and  those 
whom  the  fires  of  calamity  appeared  to 
have  melted,  harden  rapidly  into  their 
old  constitution  when  time  has  somewhat 
damped  the  inteuscness  of  the  flame. 
The  melancholy  truth  is,  that  the  whole 
assault  has  been  on  their  natural  sensi- 
bilities, on  theii  animal  feelings  ;  and 
that  nothing  like  sj^iritual  solicitude  has 


been  produced,  whether  by  the  serraoa 
or  the  sorrow.  They  have  given  much 
cause  for  hope,  seeing  they  have  dis- 
played susceptibility,  and  thus  shown 
themselves  capable  of  moral  impressions. 
But  they  have  disappointed  expectation, 
because  they  have  taken  no  pains  to  dis- 
tinguish between  an  instinct  of  nature 
and  a  work  of  God's  Spirit,  or  rather, 
because  they  have  allowed  their  feelings 
to  evaporate  in  the  forming  a  resolution, 
and  have  not  set  themselves  prayerfully 
to  the  cai-rying  it  into  effect.  And  thus 
it  comes  to  pass  that  men  on  whom 
preaching  seemed  to  have  taken  great 
hold  as  though  they  were  moved  by  the 
terrors,  and  animated  by  the  hopes  of 
Christianity  ;  or  whom  the  visitations  of 
Providence  appeared  to  have  brought 
to  humility  and  contrition ;  make  no 
advances  in  the  religion  of  the  heart, 
but  falsify  the  hopes  which  those  who 
wish  their  salvation  have  ventured  to 
cherish.  And  when  surprise  is  express- 
ed and  the  reason  is  demanded,  the  only 
reply  is,  that  there  is  yet  a  large  class  in 
the  world  too  faithfully  delineated  by  the 
second  son,  who,  when  bidden  by  his 
father  to  go  work  in  the  vineyai-d,  an- 
swered, "  I  go,  sir,"  and  went  not. 

You  may  think,  however,  tliat  wc 
have  not  adduced  precisely  the  case  in- 
tended by  the  parable,  inasmuch  as  these 
susceptible,  but  unstable,  persons  are 
not  of  the  same  class  with  the  chief 
priests  and  elders.  The  second  son  was 
originally  designed  to  denote  the  leading 
men  among  the  Jews  ;  and,  therefore,  in 
seeking  his  present  representatives,  we 
seem  bound  to  look  for  similarity  to 
those  to  whom  Christ  addressed  the  par- 
able. This  is  so  far  true,  that,  although 
it  impeaches  not  the  accuracy  of  what 
has  been  advanced,  it  makes  it  necessary 
for  us  to  continue  our  examination,  lest 
we  bring  within  too  narrow  limits  the 
class  of  men  described. 

We  have  already  hinted  that  there  lie 
the  greatest  obstacles  to  the  reception 
of  the  Gospel,  where,  at  first,  we  might 
have  hoped  for  most  rapid  success. 
Thus  with  the  chief  priests  and  Phari- 
sees. There  was  the  most  rigid  atten- 
tion to  all  the  externals  of  religion,  a 
professed  readiness  to  submit  to  the 
revealed  will  of  God,  and  an  apparent 
determination  to  receive  Christ,  so  soon 
as  he  should  be  manifested.  Yet  all 
this,  as  we  have  shown  you,  was  nothing 


THE  TWO  SONS. 


203 


more  than  the  sayinpf,  "  I  go,  sir ;"  for 
when  Christ  actually  came,  they  were 
displeased  at  his  lowliness,  and  would 
not  join  him  as  their  King  and  their 
Savior.  And  we  are  bound  to  say  that 
we  know  not  more  unpromising  subjects 
for  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  than 
those  who  are  punctiliously  attentive  to 
the  forms  of  religion,  and  who  attach  a 
worth  and  a  merit  to  their  careful  per- 
formance of  certain  moi-al  duties.  We 
cannot  have  a  more  unpalatable  truth  to 
deliver — but  wo  is  unto  us  if  we  dare  to 
keep  it  back — than  that  which  exposes 
the  utter  insufficiency  of  the  best  human 
righteousness,  and  which  tells  men  who 
are  amiable  and  charitable,  and  moral 
and  upright,  that,  with  all  their  excel- 
lencies, they  may  be  further  from  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  than  the  dissolute 
whom  they  regard  with  absolute  loathing. 
The  immediate  feeling  is  that  we  con- 
found virtue  and  vice  ;  and  that,  allow- 
ing no  superiority  to  what  is  lovely  and 
of  good  report,  we  represent  God  as 
indifferent  to  moral  conduct,  and  thus 
undermine  the  foundations  on  which 
society  rests.  But  we  are  open  to  no 
such  charge.  We  are  quite  alive  to  the 
beauty  and  advantageousness  of  that 
moral  excellence  which  does  not  spring 
from  a  principle  of  religion,  nay,  which 
may  even  oppose  the  admission  of  the 
peculiar  doctrines  of  Christianity.  There 
is  not  a  man  for  whom  we  have  a  great- 
er feeling  of  interest,  because  there  is  not 
one  of  whom  naturally  v/e  have  a  great- 
er admiration,  than  for  him  who  is  pass- 
ing through  life  with  an  unblemished 
reputation,  sedulously  attentive  to  all  the 
relative  duties,  and  taking  generously 
the  lead  in  efforts  to  ameliorate  the  con- 
dition of  his  fellows,  but  who,  all  the 
while,  has  no  consciousness  of  his  own 
sinfulness,  and  who  therefore  rests  on 
his  own  works,  and  not  on  Christ's 
merits.  If  you  compare  this  man  with 
a  dissolute  character,  one  who  is  outrag- 
ing the  laws  of  society  and  the  feelings 
of  humanity;  and  if  you  judge  the  two 
merely  with  reference  to  the  present 
scene  of  being  ;  why,  there  is  the  widest 
possible  difference  ;  and  to  speak  of  the 
one  as  equally  depraved,  and  equally  vile, 
with  the  other,  would  be  an  overcharged 
statement,  candying  its  own  confutation. 
But  what  is  there  to  prove  that  there 
may  not  be  just  as  much  rebellion  against 
God   in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other ; 


and  that  the  man  whose  whole  deport- 
ment is  marked  by  what  is  praiseworthy 
and  beneficial,  may  not  be  as  void  of  all 
love  towards  the  Author  of  his  beinfj-,  as 
he  who,  by  his  vices  and  villany,  draws 
upon  himself  the  execrations  of  a  neigh- 
borhood "?  Try  men  as  members  of 
society  and  they  ai-e  as  widely  separated 
as  the  poles  of  the  earth.  But  try  them 
as  God's  creatures,  not  their  own,  but 
"bought  with  a  price,"  and  you  may  bring 
them  to  the  same  level,  or  even  piove 
the  moral  and  amiable  further  alienated 
than  the  dissolute  and  repulsive.  Yes, 
further  alienated.  It  is  a  hard  saying, 
but  we  cannot  pare  it  away.  These  up- 
right and  charitable  men,  on  whom  a 
world  is  lavishing  its  applause,  how  will 
they  receive  us,  when  we  come  and  tell 
them  that  they  are  sinners,  who  have 
earned  for  themselves  eternal  destruc- 
tion ;  and  that  they  are  no  more  secured 
against  the  ruin  by  their  rectitude  and 
philanthropy,  than  if  they  were  the 
slaves  of  every  vice,  and  the  patrons  of 
every  crime  1  May  we  not  speak  of,  at 
least,  a  high  probability,  that  they  will  be 
disgusted  at  a  statement  which  makes 
so  light  of  their  excellence ;  and  that 
they  will  turn  away  from  the  doctrines 
of  the  Gospel  as  too  humiliating  to  be 
true,  or  as  only  constructed  for  the  very 
refuse  of  mankind  ] 

Oh,  we  again  say  that  we  hardly  know 
a  more  hopeless  task  than  that  of  bring- 
ing the  Gospel  to  bear  on  an  individual 
who  is  trenched  about  with  self-right- 
eousness. If  we  are  dealing  with  the 
openly  immoral  man,  we  can  take  the 
thunders  of  the  law,  and  batter  at  his 
conscience.  We  know  well  enough, 
that,  in  his  case,  there  is  a  voice  within 
which  answers  to  the  voice  from  with- 
out ;  and  that,  however  he  may  harden 
himself  against  our  remonstrance,  there 
is,  at  least,  no  sophistry  by  which  he  can 
persuade  himself  that  he  is  not  a  sinner. 
This  is  a  great  point  secured  :  we  occupy 
a  vantage-ground,  from  which  we  may 
direct,  with  full  power,  all  our  moral  ar- 
tillery. But  when  we  deal  with  the  man 
who  is  amiable,  and  estimable,  and  ex- 
emplary, but  who,  nevertheless,  is  a 
stranger  to  the  motives  of  the  Gospel, 
our  very  first  assertion — for  this  must  be 
our  first ;  we  cannot  advance  a  step  till 
this  preliminary  is  felt  and  conceded— 
the  assertion,  that  the  man  is  a  sinner, 
deserving  only  hell,  arms  against  us  hia 


204 


THE  TWO  SONS, 


every  antipathy,  and  is  almost  certain  to 
call  ujj  such  a  might  of  opposition,  that 
we  are  at  once  repulsed  as  unworthy  fur- 
ther hearing. 

And  how  agrees  this  too  frequent  case 
witli  the  sketchng  of  our  parable?  We 
look  upon  men,  whose  virtues  make 
them  the  ornaments  of  society,  and  whose 
zealous  attention  to  the  various  duties 
of  life  deservedly  secures  them  respect 
and  esteem.  You  would  gather  from 
their  deportment,  from  their  apparent 
readiness  to  discharge  faithfully  every 
known  obligation,  that  the  setting  before 
them  what  God  requires  at  their  hands 
would  suffice  to  secure  their  unwearied 
obedience.  If  you  say  to  them,  in  the 
name  of  the  Almighty,  "  Son,  go  work 
to-day  in  my  vineyard,"  their  answer,  as 
furnished  by  all  that  seeming  desire  to 
act  rightly  which  has  forced  itself  on 
your  attention,  is  one  of  sincere  and  hear- 
ty compliance.  But  so  soon  as  they 
come  to  know  what  working  in  the  vine- 
yard means,  alas,  it  is  with  them  as  it 
was  with  the  pharisees  and  scribes,  who, 
with  every  profession  that  they  waited 
for  Messiah,  no  sooner  saw  him  "  with- 
out form  or  comeliness,"  than  they  scorn- 
fully refused  to  give  him  their  allegiance. 
These  self-righteous  men  are  ready 
enough  to  work,  because  it  is  by  works 
of  tlieir  own  that  they  think  to  gain  hea- 
ven. But  when  they  find  that  their  great 
work  is  to  be  the  renouncing  their  own 
works,  and  that  the  vineyard,  in  which 
you  invite  them  to  labor,  is  one  in  which 
man's  chief  toil  is  to  humble  himself 
that  Christ  may  be  exalted — this  gives 
the  matter  altogether  a  new  aspect; 
they  would  labor  at  building  the  tower 
of  Babel,  but  they  have  no  idea  of  labor- 
ing at  pulling  it  down. 

And  thus  does  it  come  to  pass,  that 
the  ministers  of  the  Gospel  are  repulsed 
with  a  more  than  common  vehemence ; 
and  that  their  message  is  thrown  back, 
as  thougli  tlie  delivering  it  had  been  an 
insult.  We  can  but  mourn  over  men, 
who,  with  every  thing  to  recommend 
them  to  their  fellows,  honorable  in  their 
dealings,  large  in  their  charities,  true  in 
their  friendships,  are  yet  dishonest  to 
themselves  and  false  to  their  God — dis- 
honest to  themselves,  for  they  put  a 
cheat  on  their  souls  ;  false  to  their  God, 
for  they  give  him  not  what  he  asks,  and 
all  else  is  worse  than  nothing.  Yes,  we 
could   lament,  with  a  deeper   than  the 


ordinary  lamentation  which  should  be 
poured  over  every  lost  soul,  when  integ- 
rity and  generosity,  and  patriotism  and 
disinterestedness,  all  beautiful  and  splen- 
did things,  have  only  helped  to  confirm 
men  in  rejection  of  the  Gospel,  and  have 
strengthened  that  dislike  to  the  peculiar 
doctrines  of  Christianity,  which  is  natural 
to  the  heart,  but  which  must  be  expelled, 
else  we  perish.  And  when  we  are  asked 
whether  it  can  indeed  be,  that  men,  so 
amiable  and  admirable,  who  have  a 
yearning  heart  for  every  tale  of  sorrow, 
and  an  open  hand  for  every  case  of  des- 
titution, and  an  instinctive  aversion  to 
whatever  is  mean  and  degrading,  are 
treading  the  downward  path  which  leads 
to  the  chambers  of  everlasting  deatli,  we 
can  only  say  that  the  very  qualities  which 
seem  to  you  to  mark  a  fitness  for  heaven, 
have  prevented  the  passage  through  that 
strait  gate  of  the  vineyard,  which  is  wide 
enough  for  every  sinner,  but  too  narrow 
for  anysiti ;  and  that  thus  has  been  par- 
alleled the  whole  case  of  the  second  son, 
who  said  to  his  father,  "I  go,  sir,"  and 
went  not. 

And  now  we  must  have  said  enough 
to  convince  you  that  the  delineation  of 
our  parable  is  not  local  or  tem])orary, 
but  may  justly  be  extended  to  all  ages 
of  the  church.  We  make  this  assertion, 
because  though,  as  yet,  we  have  only 
examined  the  case  of  one  son,  our  re- 
marks have  had  an  indirect  bearing  on 
that  of  the  other.  We  have  shown  you 
that  the  obstacles  to  the  reception  of  tlio 
truths  of  the  Gospel  are  often  greatest 
where  appearances  seem  to  augur  the 
readiest  welcome.  Where  the  promise 
is  most  freely  given,  how  frequently  is 
the  performance  withheld.  And  though 
the  converse  of  this  may  not  be  neces- 
sarily true,  namely,  that,  where  we  have 
refusal  at  first,  we  may  expect  ultimate 
compliance,  yet,  undoubtedly  the  case 
of  the  second  son  prepares  us  to  feel  no 
surprise  at  that  of  the  first.  If  there  be 
final  refusal,  where  there  is  most  of  pre- 
sent consent,  it  can  be  no  ways  strange 
that  there  should  be  final  consent,  where 
there  is  most  of  present  refusal. 

This  it  is  which  is  represented  to  us 
in  the  instance  of  the  first  son.  His  fa- 
ther came  to  him,  and  said,  "Son,  go 
work  to-day  in  my  vineyard."  "He  an- 
swered and  said,  I  will  not ;  but  after- 
ward he  repented  and  went."  There 
could  be  nothing  more  discourteous,  as 


THE    TWO  SONS. 


205 


well  as  nothing  more  peremptory,  than 
the  reply.  Headdresses  his  father willi 
nothing  of  that  respectful  language 
which  the  second  son  used,  and  which 
miglit  at  least  liave  softened  the  refusal. 
There  is  a  iiarshness  and  hluntness  in 
the  answer,  whicli,  independently  of  the 
disohedience,  proved  him  of  a  churlish 
and  unmanageable  temper.  And  we 
know,  from  the  application  which  Christ 
himself  made  of  the  parable,  that  this 
first  son  is  the  representative  of  those 
more  depraved  and  profligate  characters, 
who  make  no  profession  of  religion,  but 
treat  it  with  open  contempt.  There  are 
many  who  will  even  go  the  length  of 
boldly  j)roclaiming  their  resolve  to  live 
"  without  God  in  the  world,"  who  glory 
in  their  sliame  ;  and  who  think  it  for 
their  credit,  as  marking  a  free  and  un- 
shackled spirit,  that  they  have  got  rid  of 
the  lestraiiits  which  the  dread  of  future 
punisliment  imposes.  Otiiers  again,  who 
have  not  hardened  themselves  to  this 
desperate  degree,  seem  yet  wholly  inac- 
cessible to  warning  and  reproof;  for 
they  have,  at  least,  persuaded  themselves 
that  they  shall  have  a  long  lease  of  life, 
and  that  it  will  be  soon  enough  at  the 
eleventh  hour  to  go  and  work  in  the 
vineyard.  And  in  all  such  cases,  whe- 
ther we  meet  with  the  contemptuousness 
of  unblushing  immorality,  or  the  coldness 
of  determined  indifference,  wo  have  the 
unqualified  refusal  which  the  first  son 
gave  his  father — sometimes  in  a  harsher, 
and  at  other  times  in  a  milder  tone — 
but  always  the  "  I  will  not,"  which  seems 
to  preclude  all  hope  of  obedience. 

These  arc  the  cases  which  seem  most 
calculated  to  dispirit  a  minister;  for  it 
is  even  more  disheartening  to  find  that 
he  makes  no  impression,  than  that,  where 
it  has  been  made,  it  has  been  quickly  ef- 
faced. It  is  manifestly  only  the  treach- 
erous nature  of  the  surface,  which  is  in 
fault  in  the  latter  case  ;  but  in  the  former, 
he  may  fear  that  much  of  the  blame  is 
chargeable  on  his  own  want  of  energy 
in  wielding  his  weapons.  lie  may  even, 
in  moments  of  despondency,  be  wrought 
into  a  suspicion  that  these  weapons  are 
not  as  mighty  as  he  had  been  instructed 
to  believe.  And  therefi)re  it  is  a  mar- 
vellously cheering  thing  to  be  told  of  the 
first  son,  that,  "  afterward  he  repented 
and  went."  We  do  not  believe  that  the 
precious  seed  of  the  word  is  all  lost,  be- 
cause there    is    no   immediate   harvest. 


We  remember  that  great  principle  in 
God's  dealings,  which  is  announced  by 
St.  Paul,  "  That  which  thou  sowest  is 
not  quickened,  except  it  first  die."  It 
is  often,  we  are  jiersuaded,  in  spiritual 
things,  as  it  is  always  in  natural — the 
grain  is  long  buried,  and,  to  all  appeai-- 
ance,  lost ;  but  then  suddenly  come  the 
signs  of  vegetation,  and  the  soil  is  pierced 
by  the  fresli  green  blade. 

We  now  address  ourselves  to  those 
amongst  you  who  have  never  entered 
the  vineyard,  who  have  never  broken  up 
the  fallow  ground,  and  sown  to  them- 
selves in  righteousness.  We  know  not 
whether  the  number  who  fall  under  this 
description  be  great  or  small ;  nor  whe- 
ther it  be  mainly  composed  of  those  liv 
ing  in  open  sin,  or  of  those  who  are  only 
indifferent  to  the  high  c!r:'ms  of  religion. 
But  we  say  to  these  men,  and  tliese  wo- 
men, go,  work  to-day  in  the  vineyard. 
We  call  upon  them,  and  entreat  them, 
that,  whilst  God  yet  strives  with  them 
by  his  Spirit,  and  the  free  offer  of  salva- 
tion is  made  them  in  his  name,  they 
would  consider  their  ways,  and  turn  un- 
to the  Lord,  lest  the  evil  day  come  upon 
them  "  as  a  thief,"  We  anticipate  what 
will  be  practically  their  answer.  There 
may  indeed  be  a  solitary  exception. 
Even  now  may  there  be  the  casting 
down  of  some  strong-hold  of  unbelief; 
and  there  may  be  one  in  this  assembly, 
in  whom  our  word  is  working  energeti- 
cally, convincing  him  of  sin,  and  persuad- 
ing him  to  make  trial  of  Christ's  power 
to  save.  But  from  the  mass  of  those 
whom  the  first  son  represents,  we  can 
look  for  nothing  but  his  answer;  and  if 
we  could  single  out  the  individuals,  and 
bid  them  to  the  vineyard,  "I  will  not" 
would  be  but  too  faithful  an  account  of 
their  reply.  And  yet  we  do  not  neces 
sarily  conclude  that  we  have  labored  in 
vain.  Oh  no,  far  enough  from  this.  The 
word,  which  we  have  spoken,  may  ir 
many  cases  have  gained  a  lodgment 
though  long  years  may  elapse  ere  it  pu 
forth  its  vigor.  If  we  could  follow 
through  the  remainder  of  their  lives 
those  with  whom  we  now  seem  to  plead 
wholly  in  vain,  we  can  feel  that  we  should 
find  a  day  breaking  upon  some  of  them, 
full  of  the  memory  of  this  very  hour  and 
this  very  sermon  ;  and  perceive  that  one 
cause  or  another  had  suddenly  acted  on 
the  seed  now  sf)wn,  so  that  what  we  sup- 
posed dead  was  rapidly  germinating.     It 


206 


THE  TWO  SONS. 


18  man'eilous  how  often,  in  sickness  or 
in  sorrow,  there  will  rush  into  the  mind 
Bome  long-forgotten  text,  some  sentence, 
which  was  little  heeded  when  first  heard, 
but  which  settled  itself  down  in  the  inner 
man,  to  wait  a  time  when,  like  the  char- 
acters which  a  mysterious  hand  traced 
before  the  Assyrian  in  his  revels,  it  might 
flash  dismay  through  every  chamber  of 
the  spirit.  The  father's  bidding,  "  go 
work  to-day  in  my  vineyard,"  will  rise 
into  remembrance  with  a  sudden  and 
overcoming  energy ;  it  may  not  have 
been  heard  for  years,  it  may  not  have 
been  thought  of  for  years  ;  but  when  the 
man  is  brought  low,  and  health  is  failing 
him,  and  friends  are  forsaking  him,  he 
will  seem  to  hear  it,  not  less  distinctly, 
and  far  more  thrillingly,  articulated,  than 
when  it  fell  disregarded  from  the  lips  of 
the  preacher;  and  he  will  wonder  at  his 
own  perverseness,  and  weep  over  his  in- 
fatuation. 

We  are  sketching  to  you  no  imaginary 
case,  but  one  which  all,  who  have  oppor- 
tunities of  reading  men's  spiritual  his- 
tories, will  tell  you  is  of  frequent  occur- 
rence. The  son  who  harshly  says,  "  1 
will  not,"  remembers  the  command  and 
the  refusal  on  some  long  after  day,  re- 
pents of  his  sinfulness,  and  hastens  to 
the  vineyard.  The  pathetic  remon- 
strance of  a  parent  with  a  dissolute  child 
is  not  necessarily  thrown  away,  because 
that  child  persists  in  his  dissoluteness  : 
it  may  come  up,  with  all  the  touching 
tones  of  the  well-remembered  voice, 
when  the  parent  has  long  lain  in  the 
grave,  and  work  remorse  and  contrition 
in  the  prodigal.  The  bold  address  of  the 
minister  to  some  slave  of  sensuality  is  not 
necessarily  ineffectual,  because  its  object 
departs  unmoved  and  unchanged,  and 
breaks  not  away  from  the  base  thraldom 
in  which  he  is  held.  That  address  may 
ring  in  his  eai-s,  as  though  unearthly 
voices  syllabled  its  words,  when  the 
minister's  tongue  has  long  been  mute. 
"  He,  being  dead,  yet  speaketh,"  are 
words  which  experience  maiTcllously 
verifies  in  regard  of  those  whose  office 
it  is  to  rebuke  vice  and  animate  to  right- 
eousness. They  may  be  verified  in  the 
instance  of  some  one  who  now  hears 
me.  I  feel  so  encouraged  by  -the  ac- 
count of  the  first  son,  that  I  could  even 
dare  to  prophesy  the  history  of  one  or 
more  in  th'u  assembly.  There  may  be 
florae  to  whom  I  never  before  preached 


the  Gospel,  and  to  whom  I  may  nevei 
preach  it  again.  I  speak  in  ignorance. 
I  know  not  how  far  this  may  be  true  on 
the  present  occasion.  But  I  can  ima- 
gine, that,  in  the  throng  which  surrounds 
me,  there  is  one  to  whom  I  speak  for  the 
first  time,  and  who  will  never  see  me 
again  till  we  meet  at  the  judgment-seat 
of  Christ.  He  may  bo  in  the  vigor  of 
his  youth,  life  opening  attractively  be- 
fore him,  and  the  world  wearing  all  that 
freshness  and  fairness  Avith  which  it  be- 
guiles the  unwary.  And  he  will  have 
no  ear  for  the  summonses  of  religion. 
It  is  in  the  name  of  the  God  of  the 
whole  earth  that  I  conjure  him  to  morti- 
fy the  flesh,  and  fasten  his  affections  on 
things  above.  It  is  by  his  own  majesty, 
his  own  dignity,  as  an  immortal  being, 
that  I  would  stir  him  to  the  abandoning 
all  low  pursuits,  and  engaging  in  the 
sublime  duties  of  righteousness.  But  he 
will  not  be  persuaded.  He  has  made 
his  election  :  and,  when  he  dejjarts  fi'om 
the  house  of  God,  it  will  be  to  return 
to  the  scenes  and  companions  of  his 
thoughtlessness  and  dissipation.  Yet  I 
do  not  despair  of  this  man.  I  do  not 
conclude  my  labor  thrown  away.  I  am 
looking  forward  to  an  hour  which  may 
be  yet  very  distant,  when  experience 
will  have  taught  him  the  worthlessness 
of  what  he  now  seeks,  or  a  broken  con- 
stitution have  incapacitated  him  for  his 
most  cherished  pleasures.  The  hour 
may  not  come  whilst  I  am  on  the  earth ; 
I  iViay  have  long  before  departed,  and  a 
stranger  may  be  ministering  in  my  place. 
But  I  shall  be  in  that  man's  chamber, 
and  I  shall  stand  at  his  bed-side,  and  I 
shall  repeat  my  now  despised  exhort- 
ation. There  will  be,  as  it  were,  a 
resurrection  of  the  present  scene  and  the 
present  sermon.  The  words,  which  now 
hardly  gain  a  hearing,  but  which,  never- 
theless, are  burying  themselves  in  the 
recesses  of  the  mind,  that  they  may  wait 
an  appointed  season,  will  be  spoken  to 
the  very  soul,  and  penetrate  to  the  quick, 
and  produce  that  godly  sorrow  which 
worketh  repentance.  And  when  you 
ask  me  upon  what  I  am  bold  enough  to 
ground  such  a  prophecy,  and  from  what 
data  I  venture  to  predict  that  my  sermon 
shall  not  die,  but  though  long  forgotten, 
start  finally  into  power  and  persuasive- 
ness— my  reply  is,  that  the  case  of  the 
first  son  in  the  parable  must  liave  cases 
which  correspond  to  it  in  all  ages  of  the 


THE  DISPERSION  AND  RESTORATION  OP  THE  JETTS. 


207 


church,  and  that  we  read  of  this  son, 
that,  though  he  refused,  when  bidden,  to 
work  in  the  vineyard,  yet  "  afterward  lie 
repented  and  went." 

Tliere  are  two  cautions  suggested  by 
this  latter  part  of  our  subject,  and  with 
these  we  would  conclude.  The  first 
is  to  parents,  and  guardians,  and  minis- 
ters ;  in  short,  to  all  whose  business  it 
may  be  to  counsel  and  instruct.  Let  not 
the  apparent  want  of  success  induce  you 
to  relax  in  your  endeavors.  You  see 
that  he  who  gives  you  a  flat  refusal,  may 
ultimately  reward  you  better  than  he 
who  gives  you  a  fair  promise.  Be  not, 
therefore,  disheartened ;  but  rather  act 
on  the  wise  man's  advice,  "  In  the  morn- 
ing sow  thy  seed,  and  in  the  evening 
withhold  not  thy  hand  ;  fer  thou  know- 
est  not  whether  shall  prosper,  either 
this  or  that,  or  whether  they  both  shall 
be  alike  good." 

Our  second  caution  is  to  those  who 
may  be  ready,  with  the  first  son,  to  give 
a  direct  refusal,  when  bidden  to  go  and 


work  in  the  vineyard.  Let  not  the 
thought,  that  you  may  afterwards  repent, 
encourage  you  in  your  determination 
that  you  will  not  yet  obey.  The  man 
who  presumes  on  what  is  told  us  of 
the  first  son  will  never,  in  all  proba- 
bility, be  represented  by  that  son.  I 
may  have  hopes  of  a  man  whose  moral 
slumbers  I.  cannot  at  all  break  ;  I  almost 
despair  of  a  man  whom  I  can  so  far 
awaken  that  he  makes  a  resolution  to 
delay.  The  determining  to  put  off  is 
the  worst  of  all  symptoms  :  it  shows  that 
conscience  has  been  roused,  and  then 
pacified ;  and  wo  unto  the  man  who  has 
drugs  with  which  he  can  lull  conscience 
to  sleep.  Again  therefore  we  tell  you 
that  the  exhortation  of  the  text  is  lim- 
ited as  to  time.  "  Go,  work  to-day  in 
my  vineyard."  To-morrow  the  pulse 
may  be  still,  and  there  is  "  no  work  nor 
wisdom  in  the  grave."  To-day  ye  are 
yet  amongst  the  living,  and  may  enroll 
yourselves  with  the  laborers  whose  har- 
vest shall  be  immortality. 


SERMON. 


THE  DISPERSION  AND  RESTORATION  OF  THE  JEWS.* 


'  O  Jcrusakm,  Jerusalem,  thou  that  killest  the  prophets,  and  stonest  them  which  are  sent  unto  thee,  how  often  would 
I  have  gathered  tliy  chiKlren  together,  even  as  a  hen  frathereth  her  chickens  under  her  wings,  and  ye  would  not! 
Behold,  your  house  is  left  unto  you  desolate.  For  I  say  unto  you,  ye  shall  not  see  me  henceforth  till  ye  shall 
say,  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord. — St.  Matthew,  xxiii.  37,  38,  39. 


These  words  occur  in  the  Gospel  of 
St.  Luke,  as  well  as  in  that  of  St.  Mat- 
thew ;  but  the  times  of  delivery  were  un- 
doubtedly different.  As  given  by  St. 
Luke,  they  form  part  of  Christ's  answer 
to  certain  Pharisees,  who  had  come  to 
him  with  intelligence  that  Herod  sought 
to  kill  him.     At  this  time,  as  it  would 


*  Preached  on  behalf  of  the  London  Society 
for  the  Conversion  of  the  Jews. 


seem,  our  Savior  was  making  his  last 
circuit  of  Galilee,  before  his  arrival  at 
Jerusalem  at  the  fourth  passover.  But, 
as  given  by  St.  Matthew,  the  words  ap- 
pear to  have  been  the  last  which  Christ 
uttered  in  public,  having  been  delivered 
just  before  his  final  departure  from  the 
temple,  on  the  evening,  most  probably, 
of  the  Wednesday  in  passion-week. 
You  cannot  have  any  doubt,  if  you  com- 
pare the  passages  in  the  two  Evangelists, 


208 


THE  DISPERSION  AND  RESTORATION  OF  THE  JEWS. 


that  the  words  were  uttered  on  vei'y 
different  occasions,  so  that,  if  what  tliey 
contain  of  prophecy  may  have  hud  a 
seeming  accompHshment  between  the 
two  deliveries,  we  should  still  have  to 
searcli  for  an  ampler  fulfilment. 

We  make  this  remark,  because,  as 
you  must  all  remember,  when  Christ 
made  his  public  entry  into  Jerusalem 
from  Bethany,  a  few  days  before  his 
crucifixion,  lie  vvas  attended  by  a  great 
multitude,  who  saluted  him  in  the  lan- 
guage of  our  text.  "  And  they  that  went 
before,  and  that  followed,  cried,  saying, 
Hosanna,  blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in 
the  name  of  the  Lord."  Had  our  text 
been  found  only  in  St.  Luke,  delivered 
on  an  occasion  which  preceded  the 
triumpliant  reception  of  Christ,  it  might 
have  bi;en  argued  that  what  occured  at 
this  reception  fulfilled  all  its  prophecy. 
Yot  it  would  then  have  been  easy  to 
show  that  Christ  must  have  referred  to 
some  more  permanent  I'eception  of  him- 
self than  tliat  given  by  an  inconstant 
multitude,  who,  within  a  few  days,  were 
as  vehement  in  demanding  his  crucifix- 
ion as  they  had  been  in  shoutingHosanna. 
We  are  however  spared  the  necessity  of 
advancing,  or  pressing,  this  argument, 
inasmuch  as  the  words,  as  recorded  by 
St.  Matthew,  were  uttered  subsequent- 
ly to  Christ's  entry  into  .Terusalem,  and 
could  not,  therefore,  have  been  fulfilled 
by  that  event. 

It  should  further  be  remarked,  that 
the  saying,  "  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord,"  is  taken  from 
a  Psalm,  the  118th,  which  the  .Jews 
themselves  interpreted  of  the  Christ. 
It  is  the  Psalm  in  which  are  found  the 
remarkable  words,  "  The  stone  which 
the  builders  refused  is  become  the  head- 
stone of  the  corner  " — words  which 
Jesus  brought  to  bear  on  the  chief  jiriests 
and  scribes  when  they  deprecated  the 
taking  the  vineyard  from  the  unfaithful 
Ijusbaiiduian.  We  may  therefore  sup- 
pose, that,  in  quoting  from  this  Psalm, 
the  people  designed  to  express  their  be- 
lief tliat  Jesus  was  Messiah.  We  may 
further  suppose,  that,  in  declaring  that 
Jerusalem  should  not  see  him  again,  till 
ready  to  apply  to  him  the  words  he  ad- 
duced, our  Lord  had  respect  to  some 
future  acknowledgment  of  his  kingly  pre- 
tensions. 

We  wish  you  to  bear  carefully  with 
you  these  preliminary  observations,  as 


necessary  to  the  settling  the  right  in» 
terpretation  of  our  text.  Whatever 
may  be  your  opinion  of  the  import 
of  the  passage,  as  delivered  by  St 
Luke,  you  can  haidly  fail  to  allow, 
that,  as  delivered  by  St.  Matthew,  it  can 
have  respect  to  no  events  recorded  in 
the  Gospels.  The  words  were  uttered 
by  Christ,  when  concluding  his  public 
ministry  :  he  left  the  temple  so  soon  as 
he  had  pronounced  them,  and  never 
again  entered  its  precincts.  We  are, 
therefore,  to  take  the  text  as  Christ's 
parting  address  to  his  unbelieving  coun- 
trymen ;  so  that,  in  whatever  degree 
they  are  prophetic,  in  that  same  degree 
must  they  belong  to  occurrences  which 
were  to  follow  his  departure  from  earth. 
Now  it  will  be  admitted  by  you  all, 
that  there  is  something  singularly  pa- 
thetic in  the  text,  when  thus  regarded  as 
the  last  words  of  Christ  to  the  Jews 
The  Savior  is  taking  his  farewell  of  those 
whom  he  had  striven,  by  every  means, 
to  lead  to  repentance.  He  had  wrought 
the  jnost  wonderful  miracles,  and  appeal- 
ed to  them  in  proof  that  he  came  forth 
fiom  God.  He  had  delivered  the  most 
persuasive  discourses,  setting  forth,  un- 
der variety  of  imagery,  the  ruin  that 
would  follow  his  being  rejected,  and 
offering  the  largest  blessings  to  all  who 
would  come  to  him  as  a  deliverer.  But 
all  had  been  in  vain  :  and  he  knew  that 
the  time  was  at  hand,  when  the  measure 
of  guilt  would  be  filled  up,  and  their 
Messiah  be  crucified  by  the  Jews.  Yet 
he  would  not  depart  without  another  and 
a  bolder  remonstrance.  The  chapter  of 
which  our  text  is  the  conclusion,  and 
which,  as  we  have  already  stated,  is  the 
parting  sermon  of  Christ,  is  without 
])arallel  in  the  Gospels  for  indignant  re- 
buke and  emphatic  denunciation.  The 
preacher  seems,  for  a  while,  to  have  laid 
aside  his  meekness,  and  to  have  assumed 
the  character  of  a  stern  herald  of"  wrath. 
x\nd  I  know  not  that  there  is  any  where 
to  be  found  such  a  specimen  of  lofty  and 
withering  eloquence.  You  cannot  read 
it  without  emotions  of  awe,  and  almost 
of  fear.  Ctmfronted  by  those  who,  he 
knew,  thirsted  for  his  blood,  Christ  in- 
trepidly charged  them  with  their  crimes, 
and  predicted  their  punishment.  Had 
he  been  invested  with  all  human  author- 
ity, in  ])lace  of  standing  as  a  defenceless 
and  despised  individual,  he  could  not 
have  uttered  a  sterner  and  more  heart- 


THE  DISPERSION  AND  RESTORATION  OP  THE  JEWS. 


209 


gearchincj^  invective.  The  marvel  is  that 
his  eiieinies  should  have  allowed  him  to 
pour  fnith  his  tremendous  oratoiy,  that 
they  did  not  fall  upon  iiim,  without  re- 
gard to  the  sacredness  oi'  the  place,  and 
take  a  fierce  and  summary  revenge. 
"  Wo  unto  you,  scribes  and  pharisees, 
hypocrites  !  "  is  the  burden  of  his  ad- 
dress :  lie  reiterates  the  wo,  till  the  tem- 
ple walls  must  have  rung  with  the  omi- 
nous syllables.  And  then  he  bids  the 
nation  fill  up  the  measure  of  their  fa- 
thers. Their  fathers  had  slain  the 
prophets,  and  made  great  advances  to- 
wards that  rijieness  of  iniquity  which 
was  to  mark  the  land  out  as  ready  for 
vengeance.  But  the  national  guilt  was 
not  yet  complete.  There  was  a  ..'rime 
by  which  the  children  were  to  outdo, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  consummate  the 
sinfulness  of  their  fathers.  And  Christ 
calls. them  to  tlie  perpetration  of  this 
crime.-  They  were  bent  on  accomplish- 
ing his  death — let  them  nail  him  to  the 
cross,  and  then  would  their  guiltiness 
reach  its  height,  and  the  accumulated 
vengeance  descend  with  a  wild  and  over- 
whehning  might.  "  That  upon  you  may 
come  all  the  righteous  blood  shed  upon 
the  earth,  from  the  blood  of  righteous 
Abel  unto  the  blood  of  Zacharias,  son 
of  Ijarachias,  v/hom  ye  slew  between 
the  temple  and  the  altar.  Verily  I  say 
unto  you,  all  these  things  shall  come 
upon  this  generation." 

And  here  the  Savior  might  be  said  to 
have  exhausted  threatening;  for  what 
denunciation  could  be  more  tremendous, 
or  more  comprehensive  1  We  may  pic- 
ture him  to  ourselves,  launching  this 
terrible  sentence,  a  more  than  human 
fire  in  his  eye,  and  a  voice  more  deep- 
toned  and  thrilling  than  ever  issued 
from  mortal  lips.  I  know  of  nothing 
that  would  be  more  sublime  and  com- 
manding in  representation,  if  there 
could  be  transferred  to  the  canvass  the 
vivid  delineations  of  thought,  than  the 
scene  thus  enacted  in  the  temple.  We 
figure  the  Redeemer  undaunted  by  the 
menacing  looks  and  half-suppressed  mur- 
murs of  the  fierce  throng  by  which  he 
was  surrounded.  He  becomes  more  and 
more  impassioned  in  his  eloquence, 
rising  from  one  bold  rebuke  to  another, 
and  throwing  into  his  language  a  great- 
er and  greater  measure  of  reproachfid- 
nes.s  and  defiance.  And  when  he  has 
compelled  his  hearers  to  shrink  before 


the  rush  of  his  invective,  he  assum(!s  the 
prophetic  olKc(5,  and,  as  tlujugh  armed 
with  all  the  lhun<lers  of  divine  wrath, 
announces  authoritatively  the  ap])r(jach 
of  unparalleled  desolation.  This  is  tne 
moment  we  would  seize  for  delineation 
— though  what  pencil  can  think  to  por- 
tray the  lofty  bearing,  the  i)re-eminent 
dignity,  the  awful  glance,  the  teni  bleness, 
yet  magnificence,  of  gesture,  which  must 
have  characterized  the  Mediator,  when, 
wrought  up  into  all  the  ardency  of 
superhuman  zeal,  he  brake  into  the 
overwhelming  malediction,  "  Verily  I 
say  unto  you,  all  these  things  shall  como 
upon  this  generation  1 " 

But  if  the  scene  of  this  moment  defy 
the  painter's  art,  what  shall  we  say  of 
that  of  the  succeeding  1  No  sooner  had 
Christ  reached  that  height  of  intrepid  ve- 
hemence at  which  we  have  just  beheld 
him,  than  he  gave  way  to  a  burst  of 
tenderness,  and  changed  the  languao-e 
of  invective  for  that  of  lamentation. 
At  one  moment  he  is  dealing  out  the 
arrows  of  a  stern  and  lacerating  oratory, 
and  the  next  he  is  melted  into  tears,  and 
can  find  no  words  but  those  of  anguish 
and  regret.  Indeed  it  is  a  transition 
more  exquisitely  beautiful  than  can  be 
found  in  the  most  admired  specimens  of 
human  eloquence ;  and  we  feel  that 
there  must  have  passed  a  change  over 
the  countenance,  and  the  whole  bearing 
of  the  Savior,  which  imagination  cannot 
catch,  and  which,  if  it  could,  the  painter 
could  not  fix.  There  must  have  risen 
before  him  the  imagery  of  a  wrath  and 
a  wretchedness,  such  as  had  never  yet 
overtaken  any  nation  of  the  earth.  And 
the  people  that  should  be  thus  signalled 
out  were  his  countrymen,  his  kinsmen 
after  the  flesh,  over  whom  his  heart 
yearned,  and  whom  he  had  affectionately 
labored  to  convince  of  danger,  and  con- 
duct to  safety.  He  felt  therefore,  we 
may  believe,  a  sudden  and  excruciating 
sorrow,  so  that  the  judgments  which  he 
foretold  pressed  on  his  own  spirit,  and 
caused  him  great  agony.  He  was  too 
pure  a  being,  and  he  loved  with  too  abid- 
ing and  disinterested  a  love,  to  harbor 
any  feeling  allied  with  revenge ;  and 
therefore,  though  it  was  for  rejecting 
himself  that  those  whom  he  addressed 
were  about  to  be  punished,  he  could  not 
contemplate  the  punishment  but  with 
bitterness  and  anguish. 

And   hence   the    rapid   and   thrilling 
ii7 


210 


THE  DISPERSION  AND  RESTORATION  OF  THE  JEWS, 


change  trom  the  ])reacher  of  wrath  to 
the  mouriiotover  suft'erhig.  Hence  the 
sudden  laying  aside  of  all  his  awful  ve- 
hemence, and  the  breaking  into  pathetic 
and  heart-touching  expressions.  Oh, 
you  feel  that  the  Redeemer  must  have 
been  subdued,  as  it  were,  and  mastered, 
by  the  view  of  the  misery  which  he  saw 
coming  on  Judea,  and  by  the  remem- 
brance of  all  he  he  had  done  to  avert  it 
from  the  land,  ere  he  could  have  passed 
thus  instantaneously  from  indignant  re- 
buke to  exquisite  tenderness.  And  it 
cannot,  we  think,  be  without  mingled 
emotions  of  awe  and  delight,  that  you 
mark  the  transition  from  the  herald  of 
vengeance  to  the  sympathizer  with  the 
wretched.  Just  as  you  are  shrinking 
from  the  tierce  and  withering  denuncia- 
tions, almost  scathed  by  the  fiery  elo- 
quence which  glares  and  flashes  with 
tlie  anger  of  the  Lord — -just  as  you  are 
expecting  a  new  burst  of  threatening,  a 
further  and  wilder  malediction  from  the 
voice  which  seems  to  shake  the  magni- 
ficent temple — there  is  heard  the  sound 
as  of  one  who  is  struggling  with  sorrow  ; 
and  in  a  tone  of  rich  plaintiveness,  in  ac- 
cents musical  in  their  sadness,  and  be- 
traying the  agony  of  a  stricken  spirit, 
there  fall  upon  you  these  touching  and 
penetrating  words,  "  O  Jerusalem,  Je- 
rusalem, how  often  would  I  have  gather- 
ed thy  children  together,  even  as  a  hen 
gathereth  her  chickens  under  her  wings, 
and  ye  would  not." 

But  there  is  so  much  of  important 
matter  in  this  and  the  following  verses, 
that  it  is  time  that  we  confine  ourselves 
to  considering  the  statements  here  made 
by  Christ.  We  may  arrange  these  state- 
ments under  three  divisions.  Under  the 
first,  we  shall  have  to  consider  what  had 
been  done  for  Jerusalem  ;  under  the  se- 
cond, the  consequences  to  the  Jews  of 
their  rejecting  the  Christ ;  and,  under 
the  third,  the  future  conversion  of  this 
unbelieving  people. 

Now  you  must  be  quite  prepared  for 
our  regarding  the  Jews  as  a  typical  na- 
tion, so  that  in  God's  dealings  with 
them,  we  may  read,  as  in  a  glass,  his 
dealings  with  his  church,  whether  col- 
lectively or  individually.  You  must  be 
aware  that  the  history  of  the  Israelites 
is  full  of  symbolic  occurrence  ;  and  that 
witliout  drawing  any  forced  parallel,  the 
narrative  may  be  transferred  in  various 
of  its  parts,  to  our  own  day  and  genera- 


tion, and  be  used  as  descriptive  of  what 
occurs  among  christians.     You  will  not, 
therefore,  be  surprised,  if  we   consider 
Christ's   lemonstranco    with   Jerusalem 
as  every  way   applicable  to  the  impeni- 
tent of  later  times,  and  as  afhrming  no- 
thing in  regard  of  the  Jews  which  may 
not    be   affirmed,   with   equal  truth,   of 
many   amongst  ourselves.      There   had 
been  much  done   for  Jerusalem ;   and  it 
is  in  exquisitely  moving  terms  that  Christ 
states  his  own  willingness  to  have  shel- 
tered that  city.     But  herein,  we  are  as- 
sured, Jerusalem  was  but  the  represen- 
tative of  individual  transgressors,  so  that 
the  very  same  words  might  be  address- 
ed to  any  amongst  us  who  have  obsti- 
nately withstood  the  motions  of  God's 
Spirit  and  the  invitations  of  his  Gospei. 
We  cannot  indeed  be  said  to  have  kill- 
ed the  prophets,  and  stoned  them  that 
were  sent  unto  us.     But  if  we  have  re- 
sisted the   engines,  whatever  they   may 
have  been,  through  which  God  has  car- 
ried on   the  moral  attack ;  if  we  have 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  prophet  and 
the  messenger,  and  thus  done  our  part 
towards  frustrating  their  mission  ;  then 
we  are  virtually  in  the  same  position  as 
Jerusalem,  and  may   regard    ourselves 
as    addressed   in   the   language  of  our 
text. 

And  when  the  verse  is  thus  with- 
drawn from  its  merely  national  applica- 
tion, and  wc  consider  it  as  capable  of 
being  exemplified  in  the  history  of  our 
own  lives,  it  presents  such  an  account 
of  God's  dealings  with  the  impenitent,  as 
yields  to  none  in  importance  and  inte- 
rest. We  observe  first,  that  however  un- 
able wc  may  be  to  reconcile  the  certain- 
ty of  a  foreknown  destruction  with  the 
possibility  of  avoiding  it,  we  are  bound 
to  believe,  on  the  testimony  of  our  text, 
that  no  man's  doom  is  so  fixed  that  it 
may  not  be  averted  by  i-epentance.  It 
may  appear  to  us,  that,  all  along,  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem  had  been  a 
settled  thing  in  the  purposes  of  the  Al- 
mighty ;  and  that  God's  plans  were  so 
arranged  on  the  supposition  of  the  final 
infidelity  of  the  .Jews,  that  they  could 
not  have  allowed  a  final  belief  in  the 
Christ.  Yet  Christ  declares  of  Jeru- 
salem, that  he  would  often  have  gather- 
ed her  children  together,  as  a  hen  gather- 
eth her  chickens  under  her  wings  ;  and 
that  only  their  own  wilful  infidelity  had 
prevented    his    sheltering    them    from 


THE  DISPERSION  AND  RESTORATION  OF  THE  JEWS. 


211 


every  ouibreak  of  wrath.  We  cannot, 
thererore,  doubt  that  it  was  quite  within 
the  power  of"  the  .Tews  to  have  repented  ; 
and  that,  had  they  hearkened  to  the 
voice  of  the  Savior,  they  would  have 
escaped  all  that  punishment  which  ap- 
pears so  pie-determined,  that,  to  suppose 
it  remitted,  is  to  suj)pose  God's  plans 
thwarted.  We  finally  admit  that  the 
Savior  must  have  known  that  those 
whom  ho  called  would  not  obey.  But 
there  is  all  the  difference  between  say- 
ing that  they  could  not  obey,  and  that 
they  would  not  obey.  In  saying  that 
they  could  not  obey,  we  make  them  the 
subjects  of  some  hidden  decree,  which 
placed  an  impassable  barrier  between 
themselves  and  repentance,  and  which 
therefore  rendered  nugatory,  yea  redu- 
ced into  mere  mockery,  the  warnings 
and  invitations  with  which  they  were 
plied.  But  in  saying  that  they  would 
not  obey,  we  charge  the  whole  blame 
on  the  perverseness  of  the  human  will, 
and  suppose  a  clear  space  left,  notwith- 
standing the  foreknown  infidelity,  for 
those  remonstrances  and  persuasions 
which  are  wholly  out  of  place  where 
there  is  no  power  of  hearkening  to  the 
call. 

And  what  we  thus  hold  in  regard  of 
Jerusalem,  must  be  equally  held  in  re- 
gard of  every  individual  amongst  our- 
selves. We  cannot  doubt  that  there  is 
not  one  in  this  assembly  whoso  eternal 
condition  is  not  as  well  known  to  the 
Almighty  as  though  it  were  fixed  by  an 
absolute  decree.  But  then  it  should  be 
carefully  observed,  that  this  foreknow- 
ledge of  God  puts  no  restraint  upon  man, 
obliges  him  not  to  one  course  rather 
than  to  another',  but  leaves  him  as  free 
to  choose  between  life  and  death,  as 
though  the  choice  must  be  made  before 
it  could  be  conjectured.  The  clouds  of 
vengeance  were  just  ready  to  burst 
upon  Jerusalem ;  but  the  only  reason 
why  h^r  children  were  not  sheltered, 
was  that  "  they  would  not."  Thus  with 
ourselves — God  may  be  as  certain  of 
our  going  down  finally  into  the  pit,  as 
though  we  had  already  been  thrown  to 
destruction  ;  but  the  single  reason,  given 
at  the  last,  why  we  have  not  escaped, 
will  be  our  own  rejection  of  a  proffered 
deliv(!rance.  There  is  no  mystery  in 
this,  nothing  inscrutable.  There  is  no 
room  for  pleading  that  a  divine  decree 
was  against  us,  and  that,  therefore,  sal- 


vation, if  nominally  offered,  was  virtually 
out  of  reach.  It  was  not  out  of  the 
reach  of  Jerusalem,  though  her  grasping 
it  would  have  a})parently  deranged  the 
whole  scheme  of  redemption.  And  it  is 
not  out  of  the  reach  of  any  one  of  vw, 
however  the  final  impenitence  of  this  or 
that  individual  may  be  fully  ascertained 
by  the  foreknowledge  of  God.  It  is  no- 
thing to  say  that  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  do  what  God  knows  I  shall  not  do. 
It  is  not  Grod's  foreknowledge,  it  is  only 
my  own  wilfulness,  which  makes  the 
impossibility.  I  am  not  hampered,  I  am 
not  shackled  by  God's  foreknowledge  : 
I  am  every  jot  as  fiee  as  though  there 
were  no  foi-eknowledge.  And  thus, 
without  searching  into  secret  things 
which  belong  only  to  God,  and  yet 
maintaining  in  all  their  integrity  the  di- 
vine attributes,  we  can  apply  to  every 
one  who  goes  on  in  impenitence,  the 
touching  remonstrance  of  Christ  in  our 
text.  If  such  a  man  reach  that  moment, 
which  had  been  reached  by  Jerusalem, 
the  moment  when  the  day  of  grace 
terminates,  and  the  overtures  of  mercy 
are  brought  to  a  close,  the  Savior  may 
say  to  him,  "  How  often  would  I  have 
gathered  thee  under  my  wings,  and  thou 
wouldest  not  ]  " 

How  often  1  Who  is  there  amongst 
us  unto  whom  have  not  been  vouchsafed 
repeated  opportunities  of  knowing  the 
things  which  belong  unto  peace  ]  Who, 
that  has  not  been  frequently  moved,  by 
the  expostulations  of  conscience  and  the 
suggestions  of  God's  Spirit,  to  flee  the 
wrath  to  come  ?  Who,  upon  whom  the 
means  of  grace  have  not  been  accumulat- 
ed, so  that,  time  after  time,  he  has  been 
threatened,  and  warned,  and  reasoned 
with,  and  besought  1  How  often]  I 
would  have  gathered  thee  in  thy  prosper- 
ity, when  thou  wast  spoken  to  in  mercies, 
and  bidden  to  remember  the  hand  whence 
they  came.  I  would  have  gathered  thee 
in  thine  adversity,  when  sorrow  had 
softened  thine  heart,  and  thou  didst  look 
on  the  right  hand,  and  on  the  left,  for  a 
comforter.  How  often  1  By  every  ser- 
mon which  thou  hast  heard,  by  every 
death  in  thy  neighborhood,  by  every  mis- 
giving of  soul,  by  every  joy  that  cheered 
thee,  and  by  every  grief  that  saddened 
thee,  I  have  spoken,  but  thou  wouldest 
not  hear,  I  have  called,  but  thou  would- 
est not  answer.  We  may  be  thorough- 
ly assured  that  there  is  not  one  of  us  who 


212 


THE  DISPERSION  AND  RESTORATION  OF  THE  JEWS. 


shall  be  alile  to  plead  at  the  last,  that  he 
was  not  sufiiciently  invited.  There  is 
not  one  of  us,  who  shall  be  able  to 
charge  his  perdition  on  any  thing  but  his 
own  choice.  "  How  often,"  "  how  often," 
will  ring  in  the  ear  of  every  man  who 
remains  unconverted  beneath  the  ministry 
of  the  Crospcl ;  the  remembrance  of  abus- 
ed mercies,  and  slighted  means,  and  neg- 
lected opportunities,  being  as  the  knell 
of  his  unalterable  doom.  And,  oh,  as 
the  wicked  behold  the  righteous  shelter- 
ed beneath  the  Mediator's  protection, 
from  all  the  fury  which  gathers  and 
hurries  over  a  polluted  creation,  we  can 
believe,  tiiat,  of  all  racking  thoughts,  the 
most  fearful  will  be,  that  they  too  might 
have  been  covered  by  the  same  mighty 
win"-,  and  that,  had  they  not  chosen  ex- 
posure to  the  in>n  sleet  of  God's  wrath, 
they  loo  might  have  rested  in  peace, 
whilst  the  strange  work  of  destruction 
went  forward.  Therefore  will  their  own 
consciences  either  pass  or  ratify  their 
sentence.  They  will  shrink  down  to 
their  lire  and  their  shame,  not  more  com- 
pelled by  a  ministry  of  vengeance,  than 
torn  by  a  consciousness  that  they,  like 
the  children  of  Jerusalem,  might  have 
often  taken  shelter  under  the  suretyship 
of  a  Redeemer,  and  that  they,  like  the 
children  of  Jerusalem,  are  naked  and 
defenceless,  only  because  they  would 
not  be  ctAered  with  his  feathers. 

But  we  go  on  to  the  second  topic 
which  is  presented  to  us  by  the  words 
under  review,  the  consequences  to  the 
Jews  of  their  rejecting  the  Christ. 
These  consequences  are,  the  desolation 
of  their  national  condition,  "  Behold  your 
house  is  left  unto  you  desolate,"  and  the 
judicial  blindness  which  would  settle 
upon  them,  so  that,  until  a  certain  j^eriod 
had  elapsed,  they  should  not  see,  and  ac- 
knowledge, the  Savior.  This  latter  con- 
sequence is  stated  in  the  concluding 
verse  of  the  text,  "  ye  shall  not  see  me 
henceforth,  till  ye  shall  say,  Blessed  is 
he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord," 
— that  is,  1  shall  withdraw  myself  alto- 
gether from  you,  till  a  time  ariive  at 
which  you  shall  be  prepared  to  welcome 
me  as  Messiah.  Thus  we  have  a  double 
prophecy  of  what  should  befall  the  Jews, 
a  j)rophecy  of  their  misery,  and  a  pro- 
phecy of  their  infidelity.  And  alo>)g 
with  this  prophe(;y  there  is  an  evident 
inti)nati(»n  of  what  has  been  the  chief 
characteristic  of  the  Jews,  their  coujplute 


separation,  through  all  their  dispersions, 
from  every  other  people.  We  derive 
this  intimation  from  the  terms  in  which 
their  misery  is  foretold,  "  Behold  your 
house  is  left  unto  you  desolate."  It 
seems  as  though  it  had  been  said  that 
they  were  still  to  have  a  house,  but  that 
house  would  be  desolate;  Judea  would 
be  theirs,  but  themselves  exiles  from  its 
provinces.  And  if  the  house  were  to 
remain  appropiated  to  the  Jews,  the  Jews 
must  remain  distinguished  fiom  other 
people ;  so  that  what  predicts  their 
punishment,  predicts  also,  though  in 
more  obscure  terms,  their  being  kept 
apart  from  the  rest  of  humankind,  that 
they  may  at  length  be  reinstated  in  the 
possession  of  their  fathers. 

But  we  confine  ourselves  at  present 
to  the  prediction  of  their  state,  as  adect- 
ed  by  their  rejection  of  Christ.  They 
were  to  be  desolate,  but  distinct  from 
other  people ;  and  an  obstinate  unbelief 
was  to  characterize  them  through  the 
whole  period  of"  the  times  of  the  Gen- 
tiles." And  we  need  hardly  tell  you  of 
the  accuracy  with  which  such  ]irophecy 
has  been  all  along  fulfilled.  The  pre- 
dictions which  bear  reference  to  the  Jews, 
have  this  advantage  over  all  other,  that 
their  accomplishment  may  be  said  to 
force  itself  on  the  notice  of  the  least  ob- 
servant, and  not  to  recpiire,  in  order  to 
its  demonstration,  the  labor  of  a  learned 
research.  Of  all  surprising  phenomena, 
there  is  perhaps  none  as  wonderful  an 
that  of  the  Jews'  preserving,  through 
long  centuries,  their  distinguishing  fea- 
tures. It  would  have  been  comparative- 
ly nothing,  had  the  Jews  remained  in 
Judea,  that  they  should  have  continued 
marked  olffrom  every  other  people.  But 
that  they  should  have  been  dispersed 
into  all  nations,  and  yet  have  amalgamat- 
ed with  none  ;  that  they  should  he  every 
where  found,  and  yet  be  every  where  the 
same  ;  that  they  should  submit  themselves 
to  all  forms  of  government,  an^l  adopt 
all  varieties  of  customs,  and  yet  be  un- 
able, after  any  lapse  of  time,  to  extirpate 
their  national  marks  ;  we  may  pronounce 
this  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  man- 
kind, and  inexplicable  but  as  the  fulfil- 
ment of  prophecy.  If  the  Jews,  though 
removed  from  their  own  land,  had  been 
confined  to  one  other,  we  might  have 
found  causes  of  a  protracted  distinction, 
in  national  antipathies  or  legislative  en- 
actments.    But  when  the  dispersion  has 


THE  DISPERSION  AND  RESTORATION  OP  THE  JEWS. 


213 


been  so  urjiversal,  that,  wheresoever  man 
treads,  llie  Jew  has  made  his  dwelling, 
and  yet  the  distinction  is  so  ahidinq^  that 
you  may  always  recognize  the  Jew  for 
yoiirseUI  there  is  no  place  U.'ft  f()r  the 
explanations  which  might  he  given,  were 
the  marvel  limited  tf»  a  district  or  age ; 
and  we  have  before  ns  a  miracle,  which 
would  not  be  exceeded,  nay,  not  by  the 
thousandtli  part  equalled,  were  we  privi- 
leged to  behold,  the  mightiest  suspension 
of  the  known  laws  of  nature. 

Neither  is  it  only  in  the  preservation  of 
the  distinguishing  characteristics  that  the 
Jews  are  wonderful,  and  give  evidence 
that  Christ  piophesied  through  a  more 
than  human  foresight.  The  continued 
infidelity  of  the  Jews  is  every  jot  as  sur- 
prising as  their  contiimed  separation. 
We  are  quite  at  a  loss,  on  any  natural  prin- 
ciples, to  account  for  their  infidelity.  It  is 
easy  to  ex])lain  the  little  way  which  the 
Gospel  makes  amongst  the  heathen,  but 
not  the  far  less  which  it  makes  amongst 
the  Jews.  I  may  well  expect  to  be  met 
by  a  most  vigorous  ojjposition  on  the  pait 
of  the  heathen;  for  I  go  to  them  with  a 
religious  system  which  demands  the  un- 
qualified rejection  of  their  own  ;  we  have 
scarcely  an  inch  of  ground  in  common  ; 
and  if  I  would  prevail  on  them  to  receive 
as  true  what  I  bring,  I  must  prevail  on 
them  to  renounce  as  false  what  they  be- 
lieve. But  the  case  seems  widely  differ- 
ent when  my  attack  is  on  the  Jew.  We 
have  a  vast  deal  of  common  ground. 
We  believe  in  the  same  God  ;  we  re- 
ceive the  same  Scriptures  ;  we  look  for 
the  same  Messiah.  There  is  but  one 
point  of  debate  between  us  ;  and  that  is, 
whether  Jesus  of  Nazareth  were  the 
Christ.  And  thus  the  field  of  argument 
is  surprisingly  narrowed  ;  in  place  of 
having  to  fight  our  way  painfully  from 
one  principle  to  another,  and  of  settling 
all  the  points  of  natural  religion,  as  pre- 
liminary to  the  introduction  of  the  mys- 
teries of  revealed,  we  can  go  at  once  to 
the  single  truth  at  issue  between  us,  and 
discuss,  from  writings  which  we  equally 
receive  as  inspired,  the  claims  of  Jesus 
to  the  being  Messiah  Surely  it  might  have 
been  expected,  that  the  infidelity  of  the 
Jew  would  have  been  far  more  easily 
overcome  than  that  of  the  heathen  ;  and 
that,  in  settling  ourselves  to  win  converts 
to  Christianity,  there  would  have  been  a 
better  prospect  of  gaining  credence  for 
the  New  Testament  where  the  Old  was 


acknowledged,  than  of  making  wav  for 
the  whole  liible,  where  there  was  nothing 
but  idolatry. 

You  are  to  add  to  this,  that,  whatever 
the  likelihood  that  the  Jew  Avould  reject 
Christianity  on  its  first  publication,  it  was 
a  likelihood  which  diminished  with  every 
year  that  lolled  away  ;  inasmuch  as  every 
year  which  brought  no  other  Messiah, 
swelled  the  demonstration  that  Jesus 
was  the  Christ.  It  is  not  to  be  explain- 
ed, on  any  of  the  principles  to  which  we 
ordinarily  recur  in  accounting  fur  infidel- 
ity, why  the  Jews  persisted  in  rejecting 
Jesus,  when  the  time  had  long  passed 
which  themselves  fixed  for  Messiah's 
appearing.  Their  piophecies  had  clear- 
ly determined  that  Christ  would  come 
whilst  the  second  temple  was  standing, 
and  at  the  close  of  seventy  weeks  from 
the  termination  of  the  Babylonish  cap- 
tivity. But  when  the  second  temple  had 
been  long  even  with  the  ground,  and  the 
seventy  weeks,  on  every  possible  compu- 
tation, had  long  ago  terminated,  the  Jews, 
we  might  have  thought,  would  have 
been  compelled  to  admit,  either  that 
Messiah  had  come,  or  that  their  expect- 
ation was  vain,  and  that  no  deliverer 
would  appear.  There  seemed  no  altei-- 
native,  if  they  rejected  Jesus  of  Nazareth, 
but  the  rejecting  their  own  Scriptures. 
So  that  we  can  have  no  hesitation  in 
aflirming,  that  the  continued  infidelity, 
like  the  continued  separation,  of  the 
Jews  is  wholly  inexplicable,  unless  re- 
ferred to  the  appointment  and  judgment 
of  God.  We  can  no  more  account,  on 
any  common  principles,  for  their  persist- 
ing in  expecting  a  Redeemer,  when  the 
predictions  on  which  they  rest  manifest- 
ly pertain  to  a  long-departed  age,  than 
for  their  retaining  all  their  national  pe- 
culiarities, when  they  have  been  for 
centuries  "  without  a  king,  and  without 
a  prince,  and  without  a  sacrifice."  In 
both  cases  they  accomplish,  and  that  too 
most  signally,  the  prophecies  of  Christ 
— their  house  being  left  unto  them  deso- 
late, and  a  judicial  blindness  having  set- 
tled on  their  understanding. 

And  never,  therefore,  should  we  meet 
a  Jew,  without  feeling  that  we  meet  the 
strongest  witness  for  the  truth  of  our 
religion.  I  know  not  how  those,  who 
are  proof  against  all  other  testimony,  can 
withstand  that  furnished  by  the  condition 
of  the  Jews.  They  may  have  their 
doubts    as   to    the    performance    of  the 


214 


THE  DISPERSION  AND  RESTORATION  OP  THE  JEWS. 


miracles  recorded  in  the  writings  of 
evangelists ;  but  here  is  a  miracle 
wrought  before  their  eyes,  and  which 
ceases  not  to  be  miracle  because  long 
continued.  Wo  call  it  miracle,  because 
altogether  contrary  to  what  we  had 
reason  to  expect,  and  not  to  be  explain- 
ed on  mere  natural  principles.  That  the 
Jews  have  not  ceased  to  be  Jews  ;  that 
though  scattered  over  the  world,  domes- 
ticated in  every  land,  at  one  time  hunted 
by  ])ersecuti()n  and  ground  down  by 
oppression,  at  another,  allowed  every 
privilege  and  placed  on  a  footing  with 
the  natives  of  the  soil,  there  has  been  a 
proved  impossibility  of  wearing  away 
their  distinguishing  characteristics,  and 
confounding  them  with  any  other  tribe — 
is  not  this  marvellous  1  That,  moreover, 
throughout  their  long  exile  from  I  heir  own 
land,  they  have  held  fast  the  Scriptures 
which  prove  their  hopes  vain,  and  ap- 
pealed to  prophets,  who,  if  any  thing 
better  than  deceivers,  accuse  them  of  the 
worst  crime,  and  convict  them  of  the 
worst  madness — we  affirm  of  this,  that 
it  is  a  prodigy  without  equal  in  all  the 
registered  wonders  which  have  been 
known  on  our  earth  :  and  I  want  no- 
thing more  to  assure  me  that  Christ 
came  from  God,  and  that  he  had  a  su- 
perhuman power  of  inspecting  distant 
times,  than  the  evidence  vouchsafed, 
when  I  turn  from  surveying  the  once 
chosen  people,  and  hear  the  Redeemer 
declaring  in  his  last  discourse  iu  the 
temple,  that  their  house  should  be  left 
unto  them  desolate,  and  that  a  moral 
darkness  should  long  cloud  their  under- 
standing. 

13ut  we  have  now  in  the  third  and  last 
place,  to  consider  what  our  text  affirms 
of  the  future  conversion  of  this  unbeliev- 
ing people.  We  have  already  insisted 
on  the  fact,  that,  in  delivering  the  words 
under  review,  Christ  was  concluding  his 
public  ministrations,  and  that  they  could 
not,  therefore,  have  been  accomplished 
in  events  which  occured  whilst  he  was 
yet  upon  earth.  Yet  they  manifestly 
contain  a  prediction,  that,  at  some  time 
or  another,  the  Jews  would  be  willino- 
to  hail  him  as  Messiah.  In  sayin"-,  "  ye 
shall  not  see  me  hencefjrth  till  ye  shall 
say,  blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord,"  Christ  undoubtedly 
implied  that  the  Jews  should  again  sec 
him,  but  not  till  prepared  to  give  him 
their  allegiance.     We  referred  you  to 


the  psalm  in  which  this  exclamation  oc- 
curs, that  you  might  be  certified  as  to  its 
amounting  to  an  acknowledgment  of  iho 
Messiah.  So  that,  on  every  account,  wo 
seem  warranted  in  assuming,  that,  whilst 
announcing  the  misery  which  the  Jews 
were  fast  bringing  on  themselves, and  the 
protracted  infidelity  to  which  they  would 
be  consigned,  Christ  also  announced 
that  a  time  would  come,  when  the  veil 
would  be  taken  from  their  hearts,  and 
they  would  delightedly  receive  the  very 
being  they  were  then  about  to  crucify. 

Such  is  the  great  event  for  which  we 
yet  look,  and  with  which  stands  associa- 
ted all  that  is  most  glorious  in  the  do- 
minion of  Christianity.  We  know  not 
with  what  eyes  those  men  can  read  pro- 
phecy, who  discover  not  in.  its  announce- 
ments the  final  restoration  and  conversion 
of  the  Jews.  It  is  useless  to  attempt  to 
resolve  into  figurative  language,  or  to  ex- 
plain by  a  purely  spiritual  interpretation, 
predictions  which  seem  to  assert  the 
reinstatement  of  the  exiles  in  the  land 
of  their  fathers,  and  their  becoming  the 
chief  preachers  of  the  religion  which 
they  have  so  long  labored  to  bring  into 
contempt.  These  predictions  are  insep- 
arably bound  up  with  others,  which  re- 
fer to  their  dispersion  and  unbelief;  so 
that,  if  you  spiritualize  any  one,  you 
must  spiritualize  the  whole.  And  since 
every  word  has  had  a  literal  accomplish- 
ment, so  far  as  the  dispersion  and  unbe- 
lief are  concerned,  how  can  we  doubt 
that  every  word  will  have  also  a  literal 
accomplishment,  so  far  as  the  restoration 
and  conversion  are  concerned  1  If  the 
event  had  proved  the  predicted  disper- 
sion to  be  figurative,  the  event,  in  all 
probability,  would  prove  also  the  pre- 
dicted restoration  to  be  figurative.  JBut, 
so  long  as  we  find  the  two  foretold  in  the 
same  sentence,  with  no  intimation  that 
we  are  not  to  apply  to  both  the  same 
rule  of  interpretation,  we  seem  bound  to 
expect,  cither  in  both  cases  a  literal  ful- 
filment, or  in  both  a  spiritual  ;  and  sinew 
in  the  one  instance  the  fulfilment  has 
been  undoubtedly  literal,  have  we  not 
every  reason  for  concluding  that  it  will 
be  literal  in  the  other  1 

We  believe,  then,  of  the  nation  of 
Israel,  that  it  has  not  been  cast  off  for 
ever,  that  not  for  ever  shall  Jerusalem 
sit  desolate,  mourning  her  batiished  ones, 
and  trodden  down  by  the  Gentiles.  We 
believe,  according  to  the  declaration  of 


THE  DISPERSION  AND  RESTORATION  OP  THE  JEWS. 


215 


Isaiah,  that  there  sliall  come  a  day  when 
'•  the  gri'ut  trumpet  shall  bo  blown,  and 
they  shall  come  which  were  ready  to 
perish  in  the  land  f)f"  Assyria,  and  the 
outcasts  in  the  land  of"  Et^ypt,  and  shall 
worship  the  Lord  in  the  holy  mount  at 
Jerusalem."  We  believe  according  to 
the  magnificent  imagery  of  the  same 
evangelical  prophet,  that  a  voice  will  yet 
say  to  the  prostrate  nation  and  city, 
"  Arise,  shine,  for  thy  light  is  come,  and 
the  glory  of  the  Lord  is  risen  upon  thee." 
"  The  sons  of  strangers  shall  build  up  thy 
walls,  and  their  kings  shall  minister  un- 
to thee  ;  for  in  my  wrath  I  smote  thee  ; 
but  in  my  favor  have  I  had  mercy  on 
thee."  We  know  not  by  what  mighty 
impulse,  nor  at  what  mysterious  signal, 
the  scattei'ed  tribes  shall  arise  from  the 
mountains,  and  valleys,  and  islands  of 
the  earth,  and  hasten  towards  the  land 
which  God  promised  to  Abraham  and 
his  seed.  We  cannot  divine  what  in- 
strumentality will  be  brought  to  bear 
on  mankind,  when  God  shall  "  say  to 
the  north,  give  up,  and  to  the  south, 
keep  not  back ;  bring  my  sons  from 
far,  and  my  daughters  from  the  ends 
of  the  earth."  But  we  ai'e  sure,  that, 
whatever  the  means  employed  to  gather 
home  the  wanderers,  they  shall  flow  into 
Judea  from  every  district  of  the  globe  ; 
they  shall  fly  as  "  the  doves  to  their 
windows ;"  and  the  waste  and  desolate 
places  become  "  loo  narrow  by  reason  of 
the  inhabitants." 

And  when  God's  hand  shall  have  been 
lifted  up  to  the  Gentiles,  compelling 
them  to  bring  his  sons  in  their  arms,  and 
his  daughters  on  their  shoulders  ;  when 
marching  thousands  shall  have  crossed 
the  confines  of  Palestine,  and  pitched 
their  tents  in  plains  which  the  Jordan 
waters  ;  then  will  there  be  a  manifest- 
ation of  the  Christ,  and  then  a  conversion 
of  the  unbelieving.  We  have  but  few, 
and  those  obscure,  notices  of  this  august 
consummation.  We  may  perhaps  ga- 
ther, fnnn  the  predictions  of  Ezekiel  and 
Daniel,  that,  when  the  Jews  shall  have 
resettled  themselves  in  Judea,  they  will 
be  attacked  by  an  anticluistian  confeder- 
acy ;  that  certain  potentates  willcombine, 
lead  their  armies  to  the  holy  land,  and 
seek  to  plunder  and  exterminate  the 
reinstated  people.  And  the  struggle  will 
be  vehement ;  for  it,  is  declared  in  the 
last  chapter  of  the  Prophecies  of  Zecha- 
riah,  "  1  will  gather  all  nations  against 


Jerusalem  to  battle,  and  the  city  shall  bo 
taken,  and  the  houses  rifled,  and  h;ilf  of 
the  city  shall  go  forth  into  captivily." 
But  at  this  crisis,  when  the  antichristian 
powers  seem  on  the  point  (>{  triuni])h- 
ing  over  the  Jews,  the  Lord,  we  are  told, 
shall  visibly  interpose,  and  turn  the  tide 
of  battle.  "And  his  feet  shall  stand  in 
that  day  upon  the  mount  of  Olives."  It 
was  from  the  mount  of  Olives  that  Jesus 
ascended,  when  he  had  gloriously  com- 
pleted our  redemption.  And  whilst  tlie 
apostles  "  looked  steadfastly  towards 
heaven,  as  he  went  up,"  there  stood  by 
them  two  men  in  white  apparel,  which 
told  them  that  "  this  same  Jesus,  which 
is  taken  up  from  you  into  heaven,  shall 
so  come  in  like  manner  as  ye  have  seen 
him  go  into  heaven."  There  was  here 
a  clear  prophecy  that  Christ  should  re- 
turn personally  to  the  earth,  and  that,  too, 
in  like  manner  as  he  departed.  And  it 
may  be  one  point  of  similarity  betvt'cen  the 
departure  and  the  return,  that  as  he  went 
up  from  the  mount  of  Olives,  so,  as 
Zechariah  predicts,  it  shall  be  on  the 
mount  of  Olives  he  descends.  Then  shall 
he  be  seen  and  known  by  the  Jewish 
people.  Then  shall  the  hearts  of  this 
people,  which  had  been  previously  mov- 
ed, it  may  be,  to  the  seeking  the  God  of 
their  fathers,  though  not  to  the  acknow- 
ledging the  crucified  Messiah,  sink  within 
them  at  the  view  of  the  being  whom  tlieir 
ancestors  pierced,  and  whom  themselves 
had  blasphemed.  They  shall  recognize 
in  him  their  long-expected  Christ,  and 
throwing  away  every  remnant  of  infidel- 
ity, and  full  of  remorse  ami  godly  con- 
trition, shall  fall  down  before  him,  and 
supplicate  forgiveness,  and  tender  their 
allegiance. 

This  we  believe  to  be  the  time  referred 
to  by  Christ  in  the  prophecy  of  our  text. 
Then  will  the  nation  be  prepared  to  ex- 
claim, "  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord."  Then  will  the  pe- 
riod, which  God,  in  his  righteous  ven- 
geance, hath  appointed  for  the  desolation 
of  their  house,  be  brought  to  its  close ; 
"  the  times  of  the  Gentiles"  will  be  com- 
pleted, and  the  jubilee  year  of  this  crea- 
tion will  commence.  Until  the  .Tews, 
with  one  heart  and  one  voice,  shall  utter 
the  welcome  of  our  text,  we  are  taught 
to  expect  no  general  diffusion  of  Chris- 
tianity, nothing  which  shall  appi-oach  to 
that  complete  mantling  of  the  globe  with 
righteousness  and  peace,  which  prophets 


216 


THE  DISPERSION  AND  RESTORATION  OF   THE  JEWS. 


have  desci  ibed  in  their  most  fervid  strains. 
But  the  uttering  this  welcome  by  the 
reinstated  Israelites,  shall  be  as  the  blast 
of  the  silver  trumpets  which  ushered  in 
the  Jubilee  of  old.  The  sound  shall  be 
heard  on  every  shore.  The  east  and  the 
west,  the  north  and  the  south,  shall  echo 
back  the  peal,  and  all  nations,  and  tribes, 
and  tongues,  shall  join  in  proclaiming 
clessed  "  the  King  of  kings  and  Lord  of 
lords."  Jerusalem,  "  her  walls  salvation 
and  her  gates  praise,"  shall  be  erected 
into  the  metropolis  of  the  regenerated 
earth  ;  and  she  shall  send  forth,  in  every 
direction,  the  preachers  of  the  "  one  Me- 
diator between  God  and  man  ;"  and 
rapidly  shall  all  error,  and  all  false  doc- 
'.rine,  and  all  superstition,  and  all  oppo- 
sition, give  way  before  these  mighty  mis- 
sionaries ;  till,  at  length,  the  sun,  in  his 
circuit  round  this  globe,  shall  shine  upon 
no  habitations  but  those  of  disciples  of 
Dhrist,  and  behold  no  spectacle,  but  that 
of  a  rejoicing  multitude,  walking  in  the 
'.ove  of  the  Lord  our  Redeemer. 

Such,  we  believe,  is  the  prophetic  de- 
lineation of  what  shall  occur  at  the  sec- 
ond advent  of  Christ.  And  if  there  were 
great  cause  why  Jesus  should  weep  over 
Jerusalem,  as  he  thought  on  the  infidel- 
ity of  her  childi'en,  and  marked  the  long 
train  of  calamities  which  pressed  rapidly 
onwards,  there  is  abundant  reason  why 
we,  upon  whom  are  fallen  the  ends  of 
the  world,  should  look  with  ho])e  to  the 
hill  of  Zion,  and  expect,  in  gladness  of 
spirit,  the  speedy  dawning  of  bright 
days  on  the  deserted  and  desecrated 
Judea.  If  we  have  at  heart  the  advance 
of  Christianity,  we  shall  be  much  in  pray- 
er for  the  conversion  of  the  Jews.  "  Ye 
that  make  mention  of  the  Lord,"  saith 
the  prophet  Isaiah,  "  keep  not  silence, 
and  give  him  no  rest,  till  he  establish, 
and  till  he  make  Jerusalem  a  praise  in 
the  earth."  I  have  more  than  sympathy 
with  the  Jews  as  a  people  chastened  for 
the  sin  of  their  ancestors  :  I  have  an  in- 
distinct feeling  of  reverence  and  awe,  as 
knowing  them  reserved  for  the  most 
glorious  allotments.  It  is  not  their  sor- 
didness,  their  degradation,  nor  their  im- 
piety— and  much  less  is  it  their  suffering 
— which  can  make  mo  forget  either  the 
vast  debt  we  owe  them,  or  the  splendid 
station  which  they  have  yet  to  assume. 
That  my  Redeemer  was  a  Jew,  that  his 
apostles  were  Jews,  that  Jews  preserved 
for  us  the  sacred  oracles,  that  Jews  first 


published  the  tidings  of  salvation,  that 
the  diminishing  of  the  Jews  was  the  rich- 
es of  the  Gentiles — I  were  wanting  in 
common  gratitude,  if,  in  spite  of  all  tliis, 
I  were  conscious  of  no  yearnings  of  heart 
towards  the  exiles  and  wanderers.  But, 
asks  St.  Paul,  "  if  tlie  casting  away  of 
them  be  the  reconciling  of  the  world, 
what  shall  the  receiving  of  them  be  but 
life  from  the  dead  1"  And  if  indeed  the 
universal  reign  of  Christ  cannot  be  in- 
troduced, until,  the  Jews  are  brought, 
like  Paul  their  great  type,  to  pieacli  the 
faith  which  now  they  despise,  where  can 
be  our  sincerity  in  putting  up  continu- 
ally the  prayer,  "  thy  kingdom  con)e," 
if  we  have  no  longing  for  the  home-gath- 
ering of  the  scattered  tribes,  no  earnest- 
ness in  supplication  that  the  veil  may  be 
taken  from  the  heart  of  the  Israelite  1 

In  proportion  as  we  "  grow  in  grace 
and  in  the  knowledge  of  Christ,"  we 
shall  gi'ow  in  the  desire  that  the  Re- 
deemer's sovereignty  may  be  more  wide- 
ly and  visibly  extended.  And  as  this  de- 
sire increases,  our  thoughts  will  turn  to 
Jerusalem,  to  the  scenes  which  witness- 
ed Christ's  humiliation,  and  which  have 
also  to  witness  his  triumphs.  Dear  to 
us  will  be  every  mountain  and  every  val- 
ley ;  but  not  more  dear  because  once  hal- 
lowed by  the  footsteps  of  the  Man  of  sor- 
rows, than  because  yet  to  be  irradiated 
by  the  magnificent  presence  of  the  King 
of  kings.  Dear  will  be  Lebamm  with  its 
cedars,  and  Jordan  with  its  waters  ;  but 
not  more  dear,  because  associated  with 
departed  glories,  than  because  the  trees 
have  to  rejoice,  and  "  the  floods  to  clap 
their  hands,"  before  the  Lord  as  ha 
cometh  down  in  pomp  to  his  kingdom. 
Dear  will  be  the  city,  as  we  gaze  upon 
it  in  its  scathed  and  wasted  estate ;  but 
not  more  dear,  because  Jesus  sojourned 
there,  and  suflTered  there,  and  wept  there 
bitter  tears,  than  because  Jerusalem  hath 
yet  to  be  "  a  crown  of  glory  in  the  hand 
of  the  Lord,  and  a  royal  diadem  in  the 
hand  of  her  God."  We  bid  you,  there- 
fore, examine  well,  whether  you  assign 
the  Jew  his  scriptural  place  in  the 
economy  of  redemption,  and  whether 
you  give  him  his  due  share  in  your  in- 
tercessions with  your  Maker.  You  owe 
him  much  ;  yea,  vastly  more  than  you 
can  ever  compute.  The  branches  were 
broken  off;  and  we,  being  wild  olive 
trees,  were  grafted  in  amongst  them. 
But  the  natural  branches  shall  be  an;aiD 


THE  DISPEHSION  AND  RESTORATION  OP  THE  JEWS. 


217 


graftGcl  into  their  own  olive  tree.  And 
when  they  are  tlius  grafted,  then — and 
who  will  not  long,  who  will  not  pray  for 
such  result  .' — tlie  iseed  which  was  less, 
when  sown,  than  all  the  seeds  in  the 
earth,  shall  grow  suddenly  into  a  plant 
of  unrivalled  stature  and  eniorcscence  ; 
the  whole  globe  shall  bo  canopied  by  the 
far-spreading  boughs,  and  the  fowls  of 
the  air  shall  lodge  under  its  shadow. 

I  have  only  to  add,  that,  as  you  leave 
the  church,  you  will  be  asked  to  prove 
that  you  do  indeed  care  for  the  Jews, 
by  subsci-ibing  liberally  towards  a  So- 
ciety which  devotes  all  its  energies  to  the 
attempting  their  conversion.  I  have  in- 
deed spoken  in  vain,  if  the  attempt  shall 
prove  that  you  refuse  this  society  your 
aid,  or  give  it  only  in  scant  measure. 
And  it  is  not  I  who  appeal  to  you.  The 
memory  of  a  great  and  good  man*  ap- 
peals to  you.  The  Society  for  the  Con- 
version of  the  Jews  was  the  favorite 
Society  of  that  admirable  and  lamented 
person,  who,  for  so  many  years,  labored 


*  The  Bev.  Charlea  Simeoa. 


in  the  ministry  in  this  town,  and  who 
can  hardly  be  forgotten  here  for  genera- 
tions to  come.  In  preaching  for  this 
Society,  I  redeem  a  promise  which  I 
made  to  him  when  my  duties  brought 
me  last  year  to  this  place.  lobey  his 
wish,  1  comply  with  his  request.  And 
it  cannot  be  that  you  will  fail  to  embrace 
gladly  an  opportunity  of  showing  your 
respect  for  so  eminent  a  servant  of  God, 
one  who  spent  and  was  spent,  that  he 
might  guide  you  to  heaven.  You  might 
erect  to  him  a  costly  monument ;  you 
misrht  ffrave  his  virtues  on  the  brass,  and 
cause  the  marble  to  assume  a  living 
shape,  and  bend  mournfully  over  his  ash- 
es. But  be  ye  well  assured,  that,  if  his 
glorified  spirit  be  yet  conscious  of  what 
passes  on  this  earth,  it  would  be  no 
pleasure  to  him  to  see  that  you  gather- 
ed into  solemn  processions  to  honor  his 
obsequies,  and  reared,  in  token  of  your 
love,  the  stately  cenotaph,  compared 
with  what  he  would  derive  from  behold- 
ing your  zeal,  in  gathering  into  the 
christian  fold  "  the  lost  sheep  of  the 
house  of  Israel." 


28 


SERMONS 


PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAMBRIDGE, 


FRBRUARY,  1837. 


The  publication  of  the  following  Sermons  was  strongly  requested  by  many  of  those  who  had 
heard  them  delivered.  The  Author  was  thus  placed  under  the  same  circumstances  as  a  year  ago, 
when  he  had  discharged  the  duties  of  Select  Preacher  before  the  University.  He  felt  tliat  it 
would  not  become  him  to  act  differently  on  the  two  occasions ;  and  he  can  now  only  express  hia 
earnest  liope  that  discourses,  which  were  listened  to  with  singular  kindness  and  attention,  may  be 
perused  with  some  measure  of  advantage. 

Camberwell,  March  4,  1C37. 


SERMON    I. 


THE  UNNATURALNESS  OF  DISOBEDIENCE  TO  THE  GOSPEL. 


'  O  foolish  Galatians,  who  hath  bewitched  you,  that  ye  should  not  obey  the  truth;  before  whoso  eyes  Jesus  Chriat 
hath  been  evidently  set  forth,  crucified  among  you?  " — GAiui.TLAi\'s,  m.  1. 


It  is  to  be  observed  that  the  Galatians, 
here  addressed,  were  not  Jews  ;  neither 
had  they  been  dwellers  in  Jerusalem, 
when  Clirist  died  upon  the  cross.  It 
was  not  therefore  true  of  them,  any 
more  than  of  ourselves,  that,  with  the 
bodily  eye,  they  had  beheld  Jesus  cruci- 
fied. If  the  Savior  had  been  evidently 
set  f(jrth  before  the  Galatians,  sacrificed 
for  sin,  it  could  only  have  been  in  the 
same  manner  as  he  is  set  before  us, 
throuf^h  the  preaching-  of  the  word,  and 
tlie  administration  of  the  Sacraments. 
There  was  no  engine  brought  to  bear 
on  the  Galatians,  exccjit  that  of  the 
miracles  which  tlic  first  teachers  wrought, 
which  is  not  also  brought  to  bear  upon 
as  ;  and  the  miracles  were  of  no  avail, 
except  to  the  making  good  points  on 
which  we  profess  ourselves  already  con- 
vinced. If  therefore  the  very  Gospel 
which  St,  Paul   preached  be  preached 


in  our  hearing,  and  the  very  Sacraments 
which  he  administered  in  our  assemblies, 
it  may  be  said  of  us,  with  as  much  pro- 
priety as  of  the  Galatians,  that  "Jesus 
Christ  hath  been  evidently  set  forth, 
crucified  among  us." 

The  greater  distance  at  which  wo 
stand  from  the  introduction  of  Christian- 
ity does  not  necessarily  occasion  any 
greater  indistinctness  in  the  exhibition 
of  the  Savior.  It  was  not  the  proximity 
of  the  Galatians  to  the  time  of  the  cruci- 
fixion which  caused  Christ  to  appear  as 
though  crucified  among  tliem  :  for  onco 
let  a  truth  become  an  object  of  faith,  not 
of  sight,  and  it  must  make  way  by  the 
same  process  at  different  times — there 
may  be  diversity  in  the  evidence  by 
which  it  is  sustained,  there  is  none  in  the 
manner  in  whicli  it  is  apprehended. 

We  may  therefore  bring  down  our 
text  to  present  days,  and  regard  it  as 


THE  UNNATURALNESS  OP  DISOBEDIENCE  TO  THE  GOSPEL. 


219 


applicable,  in  every  part,  to  ourselves. 
Tlierc  arc  two  diief"  topics  which  will 
(lemaiul  to  be  handled.  You  observe 
tliat  the  apostle  speaks  of  it  as  so  singu- 
lar, tliat  men  should  disobey  the  truth, 
that  he  can  only  ascribe  it  to  sorcery  or 
fascination.  You  observe  also  that  he 
grounds  this  opinion  on  the  fact,  that 
Christianity  had  been  so  propounded  to 
these  men,  that  Christ  himself  might  be 
said  to  have  been  crucified  among  them. 
We  shall  invert  the  order  of  the  text, 
believing  that  it  may  be  thus  most  prac- 
tically considered.  In  the  first  place,  it 
will  be  our  endeavor  to  show  you,  that 
there  is  nothing  exaggerated  in  our  de- 
claring of  yourselves,  that  "  before  your 
eyes  Christ  Jesus  hath  been  evidently 
set  forth,  crucified  among  you."  In  the 
second  place,  we  shall  make  this  fact  a 
basis  on  which  to  ground  a  question  to 
those  who  are  yet  neglectful  of  the  soul, 
"  Who  hath  bewitched  you  that  ye  should 
not  obey  the  truth  I  " 

Now  we  are  bold  to  claim  at  once  a 
high  character  for  the  ministrations  of 
the  Gos])el,  and  shall  not  attempt  to  con- 
struct a  labored  proof  of  their  power. 
We  do  not  substantiate  our  claim  by  any 
reference  to  the  wisdom  or  energy  of  the 
men  by  whom  these  mimistrations  may 
be  conducted;  for  Paul  may  plant,  and 
Apollos  water,  but  God  alone  can  give 
the  increase.  It  is  altogether  as  a  di- 
vinely instituted  ordinance  that  we  up- 
hold the  might  of  preaching,  and  contend 
that  it  may  have  such  power  of  annihi- 
lating time,  and  reducing  the  past  to 
present  being,  as  to  set  Christ  evidently 
before  your  eyes,  crucified  among  you. 
We  are  assured,  in  I'egard  of  the  public 
ministrations  of  the  word,  that  they  are 
the  instituted  method  by  which  the 
events  of  one  age  are  to  be  kept  fresh 
through  every  other.  And,  on  this  ac- 
count, we  can  have  no  hesitation  in 
using  language  with  regard  to  these  our 
weekly  assemblings,  which  would  be 
wholly  unwarranted,  if  we  ascribed  the 
worth  of  })reaching,  in  any  degree,  to  the 
preacher.  When  the  services  of  God's 
house  are  considered  as  an  instrumental- 
ity through  which  God's  Spirit  operates, 
we  may  safely  attribute  to  those  services 
extraordinary  energy. 

Wo  say  therefore  of  preaching,  that  it 
must  be  separated  as  far  as  possible  from 
the  preacher;  for  it  is  only  when  thus 
separated,  that  we  can  apply  to  it  St. 


Paul's  assertion  in  our  text.  I  might 
now  bring  before  you  a  summary  of  the 
history  of  Christ.  I  might  evoke  from 
the  past  the  miracles  of  Jesus,  and  bid 
you  look  on,  as  the  sick  are  healed,  and 
the  dead  raised.  I  might  lead  you  IVom 
scene  to  scene  of  bis  last  great  struggle 
with  the  powers  of  darkness,  and  sum- 
mon you  to  behold  him  in  the  garden, 
and  at  the  judgment-seat,  on  the  cross 
and  in  the  grave.  And  then,  as  though 
we  were  actually  standing,  as  stood  the 
Israelites,  when  the  fiery  serpents  were 
abroad,  round  the  cross  which  sustained 
that  to  which  we  must  look  for  deliver- 
ance, might  I  entreat  you,  by  the  hopes 
and  fears  which  centre  in  eternity,  to 
gaze  on  the  Lamb  of  God  as  the  alone 
propitiation  for  sin.  This  I  might  do  ; 
and  this  has  been  often  done  from  this 
place.  And  shall  we  hesitate  to  affirm, 
that,  whensoever  this  is  done,  Jesus 
Christ  is  "set  forth,  crucified  among 
you  1 "  It  is  not  that  we  can  pretend 
to  throw  surpassing  vividness  into  our 
representations.  It  is  not  that  we  can 
claim  such  power  of  delineation  as  shall 
renovate  the  past,  and  cause  it  to  re-ap- 
pear as  a  present  occurrence.  It  is  not, 
that,  by  any  figure  of  speech,  or  any 
hold  on  your  imaginations,  we  can  sum- 
mon back  what  has  long  ago  departed, 
and  fix  it  in  the  midst  of  you  visibly  and 
palpably.  It  is  only,  that  as  intercession 
has  been  appointed  to  perpetuate  the 
crucifixion  of  Christ — so  that,  as  our 
Advocate  with  the  Father,  he  has  con- 
tinually that  sacrifice  to  present,  which 
he  offered  once  for  all  upon  Calvary — so 
has  preaching  been  appointed  to  preserve 
the  memory  of  that  death  which  achiev- 
ed our  redemption,  and  keep  the  mighty 
deed  from  growing  old. 

The  virtue  therefore  which  we  ascribe 
to  our  public  discourses,  is  derived  ex- 
clusively from  their  constituting  an  or- 
dained instrumentality  ;  and  our  confi- 
dence that  the  virtue  will  not  be  found 
wanting,  flows  only  from  a  conviction 
that  an  instrumentality,  once  ordained, 
will  be  duly  honored,  by  God.  We  be- 
lieve assuredly  that  there  is  at  work,  in 
this  very  place,  and  at  this  vezy  moment, 
an  agency  independent  of  all  human,  but 
which  is  accustomed  to  make  itself  felt 
through  finite  and  weak  instruments. 
As  the  words  flow  from  the  lips  of  him 
who  addresses  you,  flow  apparently  in 
the  unaided  strength    of   mere    earthly 


220 


THE  UNNATURALXESS  OF  DISOBEDIENCE  TO  THE  GOSPEIi. 


speech,  they  may  be  ciidowecl  by  this 
agency  witli  an  energy  wliich  is  wholly 
from  above,  atul  thus  prevail  to  tlie  set- 
ting Christianity  before  you,  with  as 
clear  evidence  as  was  granted  to  those 
who  saw  Jesus  in  the  flesh.  So  that,  if 
there  were  nothing  entrusted  to  us  but 
the  preaching  of  the  word,  if  we  had  no 
sacraments  to  administer,  we  should  feel, 
that,  without  presumption,  we  might  de- 
clare of  our  hearers  what  St,  Paul  de- 
clared of  the  christians  at  Galatia.  Yea, 
60  deep  is  our  persuasion  of  our  living 
under  the  dispensation  of  the  Spirit,  and 
of  preaching  being  the  chief  engine  which 
this  Spirit  employs  in  transmitting  a 
knowledge  of  redemption,  that,  after 
every  endeavor,  however  feeble  and  in- 
adequate to  brin^  under  men's  view  "  the 
mystery  of  godliness,"  we  feel  that  prac- 
tically as  much  is  done  for  them  as 
though  they  had  been  spectators  of 
Christ's  expiatory  sufferings  ;  and  there- 
fore could  we  boldly  wind  up  every  such 
endeavor,  by  addressing  our  auditors  as 
individuals,  "  before  whose  eyes  Jesus 
Christ  hath  been  evidently  set  forth,  cru- 
cified among  them." 

But  you  are  to  add  to  this,  that  not 
only  is  there  the  preaching  of  the  Gos- 
pel in  our  churches  ;  there  is  also  the 
administration  of  sacraments.  We  will 
confine  ourselves  to  the  saci'ament  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  as  furnishing  the  more 
forcible  illustration.  It  is  said  by  St. 
Paul,  in  reference  to  this  sacrament, 
"As  often  as  ye  eat  this  bread,  and  drink 
this  cup,  ye  do  show  the  Lord's  death 
till  he  come" — an  explicit  assertion  that 
there  is  in  the  Lord's  Supper,  such  a 
manifestation  of  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus, 
ns  will  serve  to  set  forth  that  event  until 
his  second  appearing.  And  we  scarce- 
ly need  tell  you,  that,  inasmuch  as  the 
bread  and  the  wine  represent  the  body 
and  blood  of  the  Savior,  the  administra- 
tion of  this  sacrament  is  so  commemora- 
tive of  Christ's  having  been  offered  as  a 
sacrifice,  that  we  seem  to  have  before  us 
the  avvlul  atid  mysterious  transaction,  as 
though  again  were  the  cross  reared,  and 
the  words  "  It  is  finished,  "  pronounced 
in  our  hearing.  We  have  here  the  re- 
presentation by  significative  action,  just 
as  in  the  case  of  preaching,  by  authorita- 
tive announcement.  For  no  man  can 
partake  of  this  sacrament,  with  his 
gpiritual  sensibilities  in  free  exercise,  and 
not  seem  to  himself  to  be  traversing  the 


garden  and  the  mount,  consecrated  by  a 
Mediator's  agony,  whilst  they  witness 
the  fearful  struggles  through  which  was 
effected  our  reconciliation  to  God. 

And  if  we  attach  weight  to  the  opin- 
ion of  the  church  in  her  best  days,  we 
must  hold  that  there  is  actually  a  sacri- 
fice in  the  Eucharist,  though  of  course 
not  such  as  the  papists  pretend.  Christ 
is  offered  in  this  sacrament,  but  only 
commemoratively.  Yet  the  commemor- 
ation is  not  a  bare  remembering,  or  put- 
ting ourselves  in  mind  ;  it  is  strictly  a 
commemoratio7i  made  to  God  the  Fa 
ther.  As  Christ,  by  presenting  his  death 
and  satisfaction  to  his  Father,  continually 
intercedes  for  us  in  heaven,  so  the  church 
on  earth,  when  celebrating  the  Eucharist, 
approaches  the  throne  of  grace  by  repre- 
senting Christ  unto  his  Father  in  the 
holy  mysteries  of  his  death  and  pas- 
sion.* 

From  the  beginning  it  has  been  al- 
ways the  same  awfully  solemn  rite, 
which  might  have  attested  and  taught 
Christianity,  had  every  written  record 
perished  from  the  earth.  All  along  it 
has  been  the  Gospel  preached  by  action, 
a  phenomenon  of  which  you  could  give 
no  account,  except  by  admitting  the 
chief  facts  of  the  New  Testament  his- 
tory, and  which  might,  in  a  great  degree, 
have  preserved  a  knowledge  of  those 
facts,  had  they  never  been  registered  by 
Evanf^elists.  It  is  like  a  pillar  erected 
in  the  waste  of  centuries,  indelibly  in- 
scribed with  memorials  of  our  faith  ;  or 
rather,  it  is  as  the  cross  itself,  presenting 
to  all  ages  the  immolation  of  that  victim 
who  "  put  away  sin  by  the  sacrifice  of 
himself."  And  so  long  as  this  sacrament 
is  administered  in  our  chui'ches,  men 
shall  never  be  able  to  plead  that  there 
are  presented  to  them  none  but  weak 
and  ineffective  exhibitions  of  Christ.  If 
the  crucifixion  be  not  vivid,  as  delineated 
from  the  pulpit,  it  must  be  vivid  as  de- 
lineated from  the  altar.  And  it  is  no- 
thing that  hundreds  absent  themselves 
from  the  great  celebration,  and  thus 
never  witness  the  representation  of  the 
crucifixion.  They  are  invited  to  that  ce- 
lebration, they  are  perfectly  aware  of  its 
nature,  and  their  remaining  away  can  do 
nothing  towards  lessening  its  solemnities, 
and  stripping  it  of  energy  as  an  exhibi- 


*  See  Mede  on  Malachi,  i.  11. 


THE  UNNATURALNESS  OF  DISOBEDIENCE  TO  THE  GOSPEL. 


221 


rion  of  Clirist's  death.  And  whilst  men 
are  members  of  a  church  in  whose  ordi 
nances  the  Lord's  death  is  continually 
shown  forth,  we  can  be  bold  to  address 
them,  whether  they  neglect  or  whether 
they  partake  of  those  ordinances,  in  the 
veiy  terms  in  which  St.  Paul  addressed 
the  ( Jahitians  of  old.  Yes,  whatever  our 
infiimities  and  deficiencies  as  preachers 
of  tlie  everlasting  Gospel,  we  take  higti 
ground  as  intrusted  with  dispensing  the 
sacrament  of  the  Eucharist  :  and  whilst 
we  have  to  deliver  the  bread  of  which 
Christ  said,  "  Take,  cat,  this  is  my  body," 
and  the  cup  of  which  he  declared,  "  this 
is  my  blood  of  the  New  Testament,"  we 
may  look  an  assembly  confidently  in  the 
face,  and  affirm  that  there  are  proffered 
them  such  exhibitions  of  the  sacrifice  of 
the  Mediator,  that  Jesus  Christ  is  evi- 
dently set  forth  before  their  eyes  crucifi- 
ed among  them. 

But  we  have  now,  in  the  second  place, 
to  assume  that  the  facts  of  the  Gospel 
are  thus  brought  vividly  before  you,  and 
to  infer  from  it  that  disobedience  to  the 
truth  can  only  be  ascribed  to  fascination 
or  witchcraft.  The  question,  "  Who  hath 
bewitched  you  1  "  indicates  the  persua- 
sion of  the  apostle,  that  the  Gospel  of 
the  crucifixion  was  eminently  adapted  to 
make  way  upon  earth.  And  this  is  a 
])oint  which  perhaps  scarcely  receives  its 
due  share  of  attention.  We  know  so 
well  that  there  is  practically  a  kind  of 
antipathy  between  the  doctrines  of 
Christianity  and  the  human  heart,  that, 
whilst  we  admit  the  necessity  of  a  super- 
natural influence  to  procure  them  re- 
ception, we  never  think  of  referring  to 
sorcery  to  explain  their  rejection.  It 
seems  so  natural  to  us  to  disobey  the 
truth,  however  clearly  and  forcibly  pro- 
pounded, that,  when  disobedience  is  to 
be  accounted  for,  there  appears  no  need 
for  the  calling  in  witchcraft. 

Yet  tiiere  is,  we  believe,  a  mistake  in 
this,  and  one  calculated  to  bring  discred- 
it on  the  Gospel.  If  you  represent  it 
as  a  thing  quite  to  be  expected,  that  men 
would  disol)ey  the  Gospel — -just  as 
though  the  Gospel  were  so  constructed 
as  to  be  necessarily  repulsive — you  in- 
vest it  with  a  character  at  variance  with 
the  wisdom  of  its  Author ;  for  you  de- 
clare of  the  means,  that  they  are  not 
ada[)ted  to  the  end  which  is  proposed. 
And  we  wish  to  maintain,  that,  situated 
as  fallen  men  are,  the  Gospel  of  the  cru- 


cifixion adapts  itself  so  accurately  to  their 
wants,  and  addresses  itself  so  povverlully 
to  their  feelings,  that  their  rejection  of 
it  is  a  mystery,  in  the  explaining  of 
which  we  are  forced  to  have  recourse  to 
the  witch's  fascinations.  We  reckon 
that  the  great  truth  of  Christianity,  "  God 
so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only 
begotten  Son  "  for  its  rescue,  is  so  fitted 
for  overcoming  the  obstinacy,  and  melt- 
ing the  hearts  of  humankind,  that  it  must 
be  matter  of  amazement  to  higher  orders 
of  intelligence,  that  it  should  be  heard 
with  indifference  or  j-ejected  with  scorn. 
Angels,  pondering  a  fact  which  ap])ears 
to  them  more  suprising  than  the  humilia- 
tion and  death  of  the  everlasting  Word — 
the  fact  that  redeemed  creatures  reject 
their  Redeemer — may  propose  amongst 
themselves  the  very  question  of  our 
text,  "  who  hath  bewitched  them  that 
they  should  not  obey  the  truth  1 " 

We  shall  not  include  in  our  investiga- 
tions into  the  fairness  of  this  question  the 
case  of  the  open  infidel,  who  professed- 
ly disbelieves  the  whole  of  Christianity. 
We  omit  this  case,  not  because  we  think 
that  it  is  not  to  be  accounted  for  as  the 
result  of  some  species  of  fascination,  but 
only  because  it  is  not  one  of  those  di- 
rectly intended  by  St.  Paul.  As  to  the 
fascination  or  witchciaft,  it  scarce  admits 
debate.  For  we  can  never  allow,  that, 
where  reason  has  fair  play,  and  the  in- 
tellect is  permitted  to  sit  in  calm  judg- 
ment on  the  proofs  to  which  Christianity 
appeals,  there  will  be  aught  else  but  a 
verdict  in  favor  of  the  divine  origin  of 
our  religion.  So  mighty  are  the  evi- 
ences  on  which  the  faith  rests,  that, 
where  there  is  candor  in  the  inquirer,  be- 
lief must  be  the  issue  of  the  inquiry. 
And  wheresoever  there  is  a  different  re- 
sult, we  can  be  certain  that  there  has 
been  some  fatal  bias  on  the  reasoning 
faculties  ;  and  that,  whether  it  have  been 
the  sorcery  of  his  own  passions,  or  ot 
"the  princo  of  the  power  of  the  air," 
the  man  has  been  as  verily  spell-bound 
throughout  his  investigations,  as  though 
with  Saul  he  had  gone  down  to  the  cave 
of  the  enchantress,  and  yielded  himself 
to  her  unhallowed  dominion. 

But  we  pass  by  this  case,  and  come  at 
once  to  the  considering,  whether  the 
Gospel  of  Christ  be  not  admirably  calcu- 
lated for  making  way  to  the  conscience 
and  the  heart,  so  that  the  marvel  is  not 
that  it  should  here  and  there  win  a  con- 


222 


THE  TJNNATURALNESS  OP  DISOBEDIENCE  TO  THE  GOSPEL. 


vert,  but  rather  that  it  does  not  meet 
with  universal  success. 

Let  it  first  be  observed  with  how  sur- 
passing an  energy  this  Gospel  appeals  to 
the  fears  of  mankind.  We  say,  to  the 
fears — for  it  were  indeed  to  take  a  con- 
tracted view  of  Christianity,  to  survey  it 
as  proHering  mercy,  and  to  overlook  its 
demonstrations  of  wrath.  If  Jesus  Christ 
have  been  "  evidently  set  forth,  crucified 
among  you,"  there  has  been  exhibited  to 
you  so  stern  a  manifestation  of  God's 
hatred  of  sin,  that,  if  you  can  still  live  in 
violation  of  his  laws,  some  fascinating 
power  must  have  made  you  reckless  of 
conse(piences.  There  is  this  marvellous 
combination  in  the  Gospel  scheme,  that 
we  cannot  preach  of  pardon  without 
preaching  of  judgment.  Every  homily 
as  to  how  sinners  may  be  forgiven,  is 
equally  a  homily  as  to  the  fearfulness  of 
their  doom,  if  they  continue  impenitent. 
We  speak  to  men  of  Christ  as  bearing 
their"  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree," 
and  the  speech  seems  to  breathe  nothing 
but  unmeasured  loving-kindness.  Yet 
who,  on  hearing  it,  can  repress  the 
thoughts,  what  must  sin  be,  if  no  finite 
being  could  make  atonement ;  what 
must  its  curse  be,  if  Deity  alone  could 
exhaust  it  1  And  yet,  with  the  great  mass 
of  men,  this  appeal  to  their  fears  is 
wholly  ineffectual.  Is  it  that  the  appeal 
is  not  sufficiently  energetic  1  is  it  that  it 
is  not  framed  izito  such  shape  as  to  be 
adapted  to  beiugs  with  the  passions  and 
feelings  of  men  ?  Is  it  that  there  is  no- 
thing in  our  nature,  which  responds  to  a 
warning  and  summons  thus  constructed 
and  conveyed  1  We  cannot  admit  the 
explanation.  The  crucifixion  is  a  pro- 
clamation, than  which  there  cannot  be 
iijiagined  a  clearer  and  more  thrilling, 
that  an  eternity  f»f  inconceivable  wretch- 
edness will  be  awarded  to  all  who  con- 
tinue in  sin.  And  yet  men  do  con- 
tinue in  sin.  The  proclamation  is  prac- 
tically as  powerless  as  though  it  were 
the  threat  of  an  infant  or  an  idiot.  And 
we  are  bcdd  to  say  of  this,  that  it  is  un- 
natural. Men  have  the  flesh  which  can 
quiver,  and  the  liearts  which  can  quake  ; 
and  we  call  it  uiuiatural,  that  there 
should  be  no  trembling,  and  no  misgiv- 
ing, when  the  wrath  of  the  Almighty  is 
being  opened  before  them,  and  directed 
against  them. 

And  if  unnatural,  what  account  can  we 
give  of  their  disobeying  the  truth  ?     Oh, 


there  have  been  brought  to  bear  on  them 
the  arts  of  fascination  and  sorcery.  I 
know  not,  in  each  particular  case,  what 
hath  woven  the  spell,  and  breathed  the 
incantation.  Bit  there  must  have  been 
some  species  of  moral  witchcraft,  by 
which  they  have  been  steeled  against 
impressions  which  would  otherwise  have 
been  necessarily  produced.  Has  the 
magican  been  with  them,  who  presides 
over  the  gold  and  silver,  and  persuaded 
them  that  wealth  is  so  precif)us  that  it 
should  be  amassed  at  all  risks  1  Has 
the  enchantress  who  mingles  the  wine- 
cup,  and  wreathes  the  dance,  been  with 
them,  becruilintT  them  with  the  music  of 
her  blandishments,  and  assuring  them 
that  the  pleasures  of  the  world  are  worth 
every  penalty  they  incur  1  Has  the 
wizard,  who,  by  the  circlings  of  his  wand, 
can  cause  the  glories  of  empire  to  pass 
before  men's  view,  as  they  passed,  in 
mysterious  but  magnificent  phantoms, 
before  that  of  Christ  in  his  hour  of 
temptation,  been  with  them,  cajoling 
them  with  dreams  of  honor  and  dislinct- 
tion,  till  he  have  made  them  reckless  of 
everlasting  infamy]  We  say  again,  we 
know  not  what  the  enchantment  may 
have  been.  We  know  not  the  draught 
by  whose  fumes  men  have  been  stupifi- 
ed,  nor  the  the  voice  by  whose  tones 
they  have  been  infatuated.  But  wo 
know  so  thoroughly  that  the  Gospel, 
published  in  their  hearing,  is  exactly 
adapted  for  the  acting  on  their  fears,  for 
the  fillinc:  them  with  dread,  and  moving 
them  to  energy,  that,  when  we  behold 
them  indifferent  to  the  high  things  of 
futurity,  and  yet  remember  that  "  Christ 
Jesus  hath  been  evidently  set  forth, 
crucified  among-  them,"  we  can  but  re- 
solve the  phenomenon  into  some  species 
or  another  of  magical  delusion  ;  we  can 
but  ply  them  with  the  question,  "  who 
hath  bewitched  you,  that  ye  should  not 
obey  the  truth  V 

But  it  is  saying  little,  to  say  that  the 
Gospel  addresses  ilself  to  the  fears  of 
mankind  ;  it  is  equally  adapted  for  act- 
ing on  feelings  of  a  gentler  and  more 
generous  description.  The  effect  of  the 
fall  was  not  to  banish  from  man's  breast 
"  whatsoever  things  are  lovely  and  of 
good  report ;"  but  rather — and  this  is 
far  more  melancholy,  as  proving  aliena- 
tion from  God — that,  whilst  there  can 
yet  be  the  jilayof  fine  and  noble  emo- 
tions between    man   "and  man,  there  is 


THE  UNNATURALNESS  OF  DISOBEDIENCE  TO  THE  GOSPEL 


223 


nothing  of  the  kind  from  man  towards 
his  Maker. 

Those  sympathies,  which  are  readily 
called  into  exercise  by  the  kindness  and 
disinterestedness  of  a  fellow-creature, 
seem  incapable  of  responding  to  the  love 
and  c<tmpassion  of  our  benevolent  Crea- 
tor. That  statue,  so  famed  in  antiquity, 
which  breathed  melody  only  when  gild- 
ed by  tlie  sunbeams,  was  just  the  op- 
ptjsite  to  man  in  his  exile  and  alienation. 
No  lesser  rays,  whether  from  the  moon 
or  stars,  could  wake  the  music  that  was 
sepulchred  in  a  stone.  The  sun  must 
come  forth,  "  as  a  giant  to  run  his  race," 
and  then  the  statue  responded  to  his 
shillings,  and  hymned  his  praises.  But 
not  so  with  man.  The  lesser  rays  can 
wake  some  melody.  The  claims  of 
country,  or  of  kindred,  can  excite  him  to 
correspondent  duties.  But  the  sun  shin- 
eth  upon  him  in  vain.  The  claims  of 
God  call  forth  no  devoutedness  :  and  the 
stone  which  can  discourse  musically  in 
answer  to  the  glimmerings  of  philosophy, 
and  the  glow  of  friendship,  is  silent  as 
the  grave  to  the  revelation  of  God  and 
his  Christ. 

We  declare  of  the  Gospel,  that  it  ad- 
dresses itself  directly  to  those  feelings, 
which,  for  the  most  part,  are  instantly 
wakened  by  kindness  and  beneficence. 
Take  away  the  divinity  from  this  Gospel, 
reduce  it  into  a  record  of  what  one  man 
hath  done  for  others,  and  it  relates  a 
generous  interposition,  whose  objects,  if 
they  evinced  no  gratitude,  would  be  de- 
nounced as  disgracing  humanity.  If  it 
be  true  that  we  naturally  entertain  sen- 
timents of  the  wai'mest  affection  towards 
those  who  have  done,  or  suffered,  some 
great  thing  on  our  behalf,  it  would  seem 
quite  to  be  expected  that  such  sentiments 
would  be  called  into  most  vigorous  ex- 
ercise by  the  Mediator's  work.  If  in  a 
day  when  pestilence  was  abroad  on  the 
earth,  and  men  dreaded  its  entrance 
into  their  household,  we  could  carry 
them  to  a  bed  on  which  lay  one  racked 
by  the  terrible  malady  ;  and  tell  them 
that  this  individual  had  voluntarily  taken 
the  fearful  infection,  and  was  going  down 
in  agony  to  the  grave,  because  comply- 
ing, of  his  own  choice,  with  a  mysterious 
decree  which  assured  him,  that,  if  he 
would  tlms  suffer,  the  disease  should 
have  no  power  over  their  families — is  it 
credible  that  they  would  look  on  the 
dying  man   with    indifierence ;  or  that, 


as  they  hearkened  to  his  last  requests, 
they  would  feel  other  than  a  resolve  to 
undertake,  as  the  most  sacred  of  duties, 
the  fulfilling  the  injunctions  of  one  who, 
by  so  costly  a  sacrifice,  warded  off  the 
evil  with  which  they  were  threatened  ? 
And  yet,  what  would  this  be,  compared 
with  our  leading  them  to  the  scene  of 
crucifixion,  and  showing  them  the  Re- 
deemer dying  in  their  stead  ]  You  can- 
not say,  that,  if  the  sufferer  on  his  death- 
bed would  be  a  spectacle  to  excite  emo- 
tions of  gratitude,  and  resolutions  of  obedi- 
ence, the  spectacle  of  Christ  on  the  cross 
might  be  expected  to  be  surveyed  with 
carelessness  and  coldness.  Yet  such  is 
undeniably  the  fact.  The  result  which 
would  naturally  be  produced  is  not  pro- 
duced. Men  would  naturally  feel  grati- 
tude, but  they  do  not  feel  gratitude. 
They  would  naturally  be  softened  into 
love  and  submission,  and  they  manifest 
only  insensibility  and  hard-heartedness. 
And  what  are  we  to  say  to  this  ] 
Here  are  beings  who  are  capable  of 
certain  feelings,  and  who  show  nothing 
of  those  feelings  when  there  is  most  to 
excite  them ;  beings  who  can  display 
love  to  every  friend  but  their  best,  and 
gratitude  to  every  benefactor  but  their 
greatest.  Oh,  we  say — and  it  is  the  un- 
naturalness  of  the  exhibition  which 
forces  us  to  say — that  enchantment  has 
been  at  work,  stealing  away  the  senses, 
and  deadening  the  feelings.  In  all  other 
cases  the  heart  has  free  play ;  but  in 
this  it  is  trammelled,  as  by  some  magical 
cords,  and  cannot  beat  generously. 
Satan,  the  great  deceiver,  who  seduced 
the  first  of  humankind,  has  been  busy 
with  one  sort  or  another  of  illusion,  and 
has  so  bound  men  with  his  spells  that 
they  are  morally  entranced.  We  know 
not,  as  we  said  in  the  former  case,  what 
may  have  been  the  stupifying  charm,  or 
the  coercive  incantation.  We  have  not 
gone  down  with  them  to  the  haunts  of 
the  sorcerer,  that  we  might  know  by 
what  rites  they  have  thus  been  human- 
ized. But  they  would  never  be  indiffer- 
ent where  there  is  most  to  excite,  and 
insensible  where  there  is  all  that  can  tell 
upon  their  feelings,  if  they  had  not 
surrendered  the  soul  to  some  power  of 
darkness,  some  beguiling  and  o'ermas- 
tering  passion,  some  agency  which,  like 
that  pretended  to  by  the  woman  of  En- 
dor,  professes  to  give  life  to  the  dead. 
And    therefore    remembering,    that,    as 


224 


THE  UNNATDRALNESS  OF  DISOBEDIENCE  TO  THE  GOSPEL. 


grafted  into  tlie  Christian  Church,  they 
are  men  "  before  whose  eyes  Jesus 
Christ  hath  been  evidently  set  forth, 
crucified  among  them,"  we  cannot  see 
them  manifestiug  no  love  to  the  Savior, 
and  yielding  liim  no  allegiance,  without 
feeling  that  this  their  vehement  ingrati- 
tude is  wholly  unnatural,  and  without 
therefore  pressing  home  upon  them  the 
question,  "  wlio  hath  bewitched  you  that 
ye  should  not  obey  the  truth  ?  " 

We  may  certainly  add,  that,  as  ad- 
dressing itself  to  men's  hope,  the  Gos- 
pel is  so  calculated  for  making  and  re- 
taining disciples,  that  nothing  but  the 
woikings  of  sorcery  will  explain  its 
rejection.  It  must  be  remembered  that 
Christ,  as  Mediator,  not  only  gained  our 
pardon,  but  procured  for  us  everlasting 
happiness.  And  if  we  must  judge  the 
immenseness  of  the  escaped  punishment, 
we  must  judge  also  that  of  the  proffered 
glory,  by  the  fact  that  our  substitute  was 
none  other  than  a  person  of  the  Trinity. 
If  Chiist  Jesus  is  set  before  men,  cruci- 
fied among  them,  they  are  manifestly 
taught,  that,  as  the  price  paid  is  not  to 
be  computed,  neither  is  the  happiness 
of  which  it  was  the  purchase.  And  they 
are  beings  keenly  alive  to  their  own  in- 
terests, readily  excited  by  any  prospect 
of  good,  and  who  exhibit  the  greatest 
alacrity  and  vigor  in  pursuing  such 
p.utis  as  promise  them  advantage.  It  is 
nivireover  their  natural  constitution,  to 
forego  a  present  for  a  future  and  far 
greater  good,  and  to  submit  cheerfully 
to  privations,  in  hopes  of  receiving  what 
shall  be  more  than  equivalent.  VVe  call 
this  their  natural  constitution  ;  and  we 
therefore,  further,  call  it  urmatural,  and 
demonstrative  of  strange  and  sinister  in- 
fluence, that  they  should  choose  the  tri- 
fling in  preference  to  tlie  unmeasured,  and 
give  up  the  eveilasting  for  the  sake  of  the 
transient.  Yet  this  men  do  when  they  dis- 
obey the  Gospel.  The  Gospel  addresses 
itself  directly  to  their  desire  after  happi- 
ness. It  makes  its  appeal  to  that  prin- 
ciple in  their  nature,  which  prompts 
them  to  provide  for  the  future  at  the  ex- 
j)ense  of  the  present.  In  every  other 
case  they  hearken  to  such  address,  and 
respond  to  such  appeal.  But  in  this 
case,  which  differs  from  every  other  only 
in  the  incalculable  superiority  of  the 
proffered  good,  thc/y  tuin  a  deaf 
ear,  and  wear  all  tin;  apjiearance  of  a 
natural  incapacity  of  being  stirred  by 


such   an  engine  as  the  Gospel  briuga 
to  bear. 

What  account  shall  we  give  of  this  ] 
A  princi[)le  of  their  nature  is  in  fiill  vig- 
or, except  in  the  instance  in  which  there 
is  most  to  excite  it,  and  then  it  seems 
utterly  extinguished.  They  can  pursue 
a  future  good,  unless  it  be  infinite,  and  be 
moved  by  any  prospect  of  happiness,  ex- 
cept of  everlasting.  There  must  have 
been  sorcery  hera ;  and  we  have  no 
difficulty  in  determining  how  the  magi- 
cian has  worked.  The  devil  has  prac- 
tised that  jugglery  which  causes  the  ob- 
jects of  faith  to  shrink  into  insignificance, 
and  those  of  sense  to  dilate  into  masfni- 
tude.  There  has  been  the  weaving  of 
that  spell  which  circumscribes  the  view, 
so  that,  though  a  man  can  look  forward, 
he  never  looks  beyond  the  grave.  There 
has  been  the  drinking  of  that  cup  of 
voluptuousness,  of  which  whosoever  par- 
takes is  maddened  into  longing  for  yet 
deeper  draughts.  It  is  sorcery,  it  is 
witchcraft.  Men  would  not  hesitate,  if 
an  earthly  good  were  to  be  secured  on 
the  conditions  of  the  Gospel ;  and  they 
refuse,  when  the  good  is  heavenly,  only 
because  they  had  suffered  themselves  to 
be  beguiled,  and  cheated,  and  entranced. 
There  is  a  charm  upon  them,  and  their 
own  passions  have  sealed  it,  binding 
them  to  love  the  world,  and  the  things 
that  are  in  the  world.  There  is  an  en- 
chanted circle,  which  their  indulged 
lusts  have  traced,  and  within  which  they 
walk,  so  that  they  cannot  expatiate  over 
the  vast  spreadings  of  their  existence. 
There  is  a  syren  voice,  and  their  own 
wishes  syllable  its  whispers,  telling  them 
there  is  no  cause  for  haste,  but  that 
hereafter  it  will  be  soon  enough  to  at- 
tend to  eternity.  And  thus  there  is  no 
defect  in  tho  Gospel.  It  is  adapted,  with 
the  nicest  precision,  to  creatures  so  con- 
stituted as  ourselves.  But  we  live  in 
the  midst  of  gorgeous  deceits,  and  bril- 
liant meteors.  The  wizard's  skill,  and 
the  necromancer's  art  are  busied  with 
hiding  from  us  what  we  most  need  to 
know  ;  and  our  eyes  are  dazzled  by  the 
S])lendid  apparitions  with  which  the  god 
of  this  world  peoples  his  domain  ;  and 
our  ears  are  fascinated  by  the  melodies 
in  which  pleasure  breathes  her  incan- 
tations ;  and  thus  it  comes  to  pass,  that 
we  are  verily  "  bewitched"  into  disobey- 
ing the  truth. 

Would  to  (jJod  that  we  might  all  striva 


SONGS  IN  THE  MQHT. 


226 


to  break  away  from  tlio  seductions  uikI 
flatteries  of  earth,  and  j:;\\'(.'  ourselves  in 
good  earnest  to  the  seeking'  liappiness 
in  heaven.  And  what  is  it  that  we  ask 
of  men,  when  we  entreat  them  to  escape 
from  the  magician,  and  live  for  (Eternity  ? 
Is  it  that  they  should  be  less  intellectual, 
less  (ihilosophical  ?  On  the  contrary, 
religion  is  the  nurso  of  intellect,  and 
phili)s<>phy  is  most  noble  when  doing 
homage  to  revelation.  It  is  not  intel- 
lectual to  live  only  for  this  world,  it  is 
not  philosophical  to  remain  ignorant  of 
God.  Is  it  that  they  should  surrender 
their  pleasures,  and  walk  a  round  <if  un- 
varied mortification  ]  We  ask  them  to 
surrender  nothing  which  a  rational  being 
can  approve,  or  an  immortal  vindicate. 
We  leave  them  every  pleasure  which 
can  be  enjoyed  without  a  blush,  and  re- 
membered without  remorse.  V/e  ask 
only  that  they  would  flee  those  vices 
whose  end  is  death,  cultivate  those  vir- 
tues which  are  as  much  the  happiness 
us  the  ornament  of  man,  and  propose  to 


themselves  an  object  commensurate  with 
their  capacities.  This,  let  them  b*;  as- 
sured, is  practical  Christianity — to  shun 
what,  even  as  men,  they  should  avoid, 
and  pursue  what,  even  as  men,  they 
should  desire. 

Shall  we  not  then  beseech  the  Al- 
mighty, that  we  may  have  strength  t(» 
break  the  spell,  and  dissolve  the  illusion  1 
The  Philistines  are  upon  us,  as  upon 
Samson,  and  we  are  yet,  it  may  be,  in 
the  lap  of  the  enchantress.  But  all 
strength  is  not  gone.  The  Sj)irit  of  the 
living  God  may  yet  be  entreated  ;  and 
the  razor  of  divine  judgment  hath  not 
swept  off  the  seven  locks  wherein  our 
might  lies.  And  therefore,  however  be- 
witched, each  amongst  us  may  yet  strug- 
gle witli  the  sorcerer  who  has  bound 
him;  and  we  can  assure  him  that  lh(;re 
is  such  efficacy  in  hearty  prayer  to  the 
Lord,  that,  if  he  cry  for  deliverance,  the 
green  withes  shall  be  "  as  tow  when  it 
toucheth  the  fire,"  and  the  new  cords  be 
broken  like  a  thread  from  lus  arms 


SERMON    II. 


SONGS  IN  THE  NIGHT. 


But  none  eaith,  Where  is  God  my  Maker,  who  givetbcongs  ia  the  night?  "—Job  xxxv.  10. 


In  regard  of  the  concerns  and  occur- 
rences of  life,  some  men  are  always  dis- 
posed to  look  at  the  bright  side,  and 
f>thers  at  the  dark.  The  tempers  and 
feelings  of  some  are  so  cheerful  and 
elastic,  that  it  is  hardly  withiti  the  power 
of  ordinary  circumstances  to  depress  and 
overbear  them  ;  whilst  others,  on  the 
contrary,  are  of  so  gloomy  a  temper- 
ament, that  the  least  of  what  is  adverse 
serves  to  confound  them.  But  if  we  can 
divide  men  into  these  classes,  when  re- 
ference is  had  simply  to  their  private 
29 


affairs,  we  doubt  whether  the  same  di- 
vision will  hold,  we  are  sure  it  will  not 
iu  the  same  proportion,  when  the  refer- 
ence is  generally  to  God's  dealings  with 
our  race.  In  regard  of  these  dealings, 
there  is  an  almost  universal  disposition 
to  the  looking  on  the  dark  side  and  not 
on  the  bright ;  as  though  there  were 
cause  for  nothing  but  wonder,  that  a 
God  of  infinite  love  should  permit  so 
much  misery  in  any  section  of  his  in- 
telligent creation.  You  find  but  few 
who  are  ready  to  observe  what  provisiou 


226 


80NGS  IN   THE  NIGHT. 


has  been  made  for  human  happinesn,  ami 
what  capacities  there  are  yet  in  tlie 
vvdrUl,  notwithstanding  its  vast  disor- 
ganization, of  ministering  to  the  satis- 
laciion  of  sucli  as  prefer  righteousness  to 
wickedness. 

Now  we  cannot  deny,  that  if  wo  mere- 
ly rei^ard  the  earth  a^  it  is,  the  exhibi- 
tion is  one  wliose  darkness  it  is  scarcely 
possible  to  overcharge.  But  when  you 
seek  to  gather  from  the  condition  of  the 
world  the  character  of  its  Governor,  yf)u 
are  bound  to  consider,  not  what  the 
world  is,  but  what  it  would  be,  if  all, 
whi('ii  that  Governor  hath  done  on  its 
behalf,  were  allowed  to  produce  its 
Ivgitimate  effect.  And  we  are  sure,  that 
wluMi  you  set  yourselves  to  compute  the 
amount  of  what  may  be  called  unavoid- 
able misery — that  misery  which  must 
ecjually  remain,  if  Christianity  possessed 
unlimited  sway — you  would  find  no 
cause  for  wonder,  that  God  has  left  the 
earth  burdened  with  so  great  a  weight 
of  sorrow,  but  only  of  praise,  that  he  has 
prttvided  so  amply  for  the  happiness  of 
the  fallen. 

The  greatest  portion  of  the  misery 
which  is  so  pathetically  bewailed,  exists 
in  hf)ite,  as  it  were,  of  God's  benevolent 
arrangements,  and  would  be  avoided,  if 
men  were  not  bent  on  choosing  the  evil, 
and  rejecting  the  good.  And  even  the 
unavoidable  misery  is  so  mitigated  by 
the  provisions  of  Christianity,  that,  if 
there  were  nothing  else  to  be  borne, 
the  pressure  would  not  be  heavier  thnn 
just  sufliced  for  the  ends  of  moral  disci- 
l>line.  There  must  be  sorrow  on  the 
earth,  so  long  as  there  is  death  ;  but,  if 
this  were  all,  the  certain  ho{)e  of  resur- 
rection and  immortality  would  dry  every 
tear,  or  cause,  at  least,  triumph  so  to 
bl(M)d  with  lamentation,  that  the  mourn- 
er would  be  almost  lost  in  the  believer. 
Thus  it  is  true,  both  of  those  causes  of 
unha|)piness  which  would  remain,  if 
Christianity  were  universally  prevalent, 
and  of  those  for  whose  removal  this  re- 
ligion was  intended  and  adapted,  that 
they  offer  no  argument  against  the  com- 
passions of  God.  The  attentive  ob- 
server may  easily  satisfy  himself,  that, 
though  for  wise  ends  a  certain  portion 
of  suffering  has  been  made  unavoidable, 
the  divine  dealings  with  man  are,  in  the 
largest  sense,  thos(!  of  tcnulerness  and 
love,  so  that,  if  the  gicut  majority  of  our 
••aco  were  not  determined  to  be  wretch- 


ed, enough  has  hccn  done  to  insure  their 
being  happy.  And  when  we  come  to 
give  the  reasons  why  so  vast  an  accu- 
mulation of  wietchedness  is  to  be  found 
in  every  district  of  the  globe,  we  cannot 
assign  the  will  and  appointment  of  God  : 
we  charge  the  whole  on  man's  forgetful- 
ness  of  God,  on  his  contempt  or  neglect 
of  lemedies  and  assuagements  divinely 
provided  ;  yea,  we  ofler  in  explanation 
the  words  of  our  text,  "  none  saith, 
Where  is  God  my  Maker,  who  giveth 
songs  in  the  night  ?  " 

We  shall  not  stay  to  trace  the  connec- 
tion between  these  words  and  the  pre- 
ceding, but  rather  separate  at  once  the 
text  from  the  context.  We  may  then 
consider  it  as  giving  a  beautiful  charac- 
ter of  God,  which  should  attract  men  to- 
wards him,  and  which  is  sufficient  pledge, 
that,  if  it  did,  they  would  be  happy  even 
in  the  midst  of  adversity.  Or  we  tiiay 
regard  the  words,  when  thus  taken  by 
themselves,  as  expressive  of  the  inex- 
cusableness  of  men  in  neglecting  God, 
when  he  has  revealed  himself  under  a 
character  the  most  adapted  to  the  fixing 
their  confidence.  It  is  evident  that 
Elihu  represents  it  as  a  most  strange 
and  criminal  thing,  that,  though  our 
Maker  giveth  songs  in  the  night,  he  is 
not  inquired  after  by  those  on  whom 
calamity  presses.  We  may,  therefore, 
divide  what  we  have  to  say  on  our  text 
under  two  general  heads  ;  considering, 
in  the  first  place,  what  an  aggravation  it 
is  of  the  ijuilt  of  men's  for":ettin<r  their 
Creator,  that  he  is  a  God  "  who  giveth 
songs  in  the  niglit;"  and  showing  you, 
in  the  second  place,  with  how  great  truth 
and  fitness  this  touching  description  may 
be  ap[)lied  to  our  Maker. 

Now  we  must  all  be  conscious,  that, 
if  pain  and  suffering  were  removed  from 
the  world,  a  great  portion  of  the  liible 
would  become  quite  inapplicable;  for 
on  almost  its  every  page  there  are  say- 
ings which  would  seem  out  of  place,  if 
addressed  to  beings  inaccessible  to  grief 
And  it  is  one  beautiful  instance  of  the 
adaptation  of  revelation  to  onr  circum- 
stances, that  the  main  tliitig  wldch  it 
labors  to  set  forth  is  the  love  of  our 
Mak(!r.  There  are  many  untouched 
points  on  which  curiosity  craves  infor- 
mation, and  on  which  ajiostlcs  and  pro- 
])liets  might  have  been  commissiuncd  to 
pour  a  tide  of  illustration.  But  there  is 
no  ])oint  on  which  it  was  so  impottant 


HONGS   IN  THE  NIGHT. 


227 


,o  US  to  be  certifit>i,  as  on  this  of  God's 
love  towards  us,  notwithstanding  our 
alienation.  We  emphatically  needed  a 
revelation  to  assure  us  oi*  this  ;  for 
natural  theology,  whatever  its  success  in 
deliiiealing  the  attributes  of  God,  could 
never  have  proved  that  sin  had  not  ex- 
cluded us  from  all  share  in  his  favor. 

And  accordingly  it  is  at  this  the  Bible 
labors  ;  and  thereby  it  becomes  most 
truly  the  Bible  of  the  fallen.  A  revela- 
tion (»f  God  to  a  rank  of  beings  untaint- 
ed by  sin,  would  probably  not  be  much 
occupied  with  affirming  and  e.xhibiting 
the  divine  K>ve.  Theie  must  be  guilt, 
and  therefore  some  measure  of  conscious- 
ness of  exposure  to  wrath,  ere  theie  can 
be  doubt  as  to  whether  the  work  of  God's 
hands  be  still  the  object  of  his  favor. 
The  Bible  therefore,  if  we  may  thus 
speak,  of  an  oider  of  angels,  might  con- 
tain nothing  but  gorgeous  descii|)tions 
of  divine  supremacy  and  magnificence, 
opening  the  mightiest  mysteries,  but 
having  no  reference  to  the  tenderness  of 
a  Father-,  which  was  always  experienced, 
and  none  to  the  forgiveness  of  sinners, 
which  was  tiever  required.  But  such  a 
Bihie  would  he  as  much  out  of  place  orj 
this  fallen  creation,  as  ours  in  a  sphere 
where  all  was  purity  and  light.  The 
revelation,  which  alone  can  profit  us, 
must  be  a  revelation  of  mercy,  a  revela- 
tiiin  which  brings  God  before  us  as  not 
made  irreconcilable  by  our  many  of- 
fences ;  a  revelation,  in  short,  which  dis- 
closes such  airangements  for  our  restor- 
ation to  favor,  that  there  could  l)e  anight 
on  which  ciierubim  and  seraphim  lined 
our  firmament,  chanting  the  chorus, 
"  peace  on  earth,  good- will  towards 
man,"  and  thus  proving  of  our  Maker, 
that  he  is  a  God  "  who  giveth  songs  in 
the  night." 

Now  you  all  know  that  this  is  the 
character  of  the  revelation  with  which 
we  have  been  favored.  Independently 
oil  the  great  fact  with  which  the  Bible 
is  occupied,  the  fact  of  our  redemption 
through  the  suretyship  of  a  Mediator, 
the  inspired  writers  are  continually  af- 
fiiming,  or  insisting  upon  proofs,  that 
the  Almighty  hues  the  human  race  with 
a  love  that  passeth  knowledire  ;  and  they 
give  us,  in  his  name,  the  most  animating 
promises,  promises  whose  full  lustre  can- 
not be  discerned  in  llie  surishine,  but 
only  when  tlie  sky  is  overcast  with 
clouds.     We  must,  for  example,  be  our- 


selves brought  to  the  very  dust,  ere  we 
can  rightly  estimate  this  exquisite  <Je- 
scriptiun  of  a  being,  who  made  the  ttars, 
and  holdeth  the  waters  in  the  hollow  of 
his  hand,  "  God,  that  coml'orteth  tho.se 
that  are  cast  down."  We  must  know 
for  ourselves  the  agony,  tin;  humiliation, 
of  unforeseen  grief,  ere  we  can  taste  the 
sweetness  of  the  promise,  that  God,  lie 
whfi  hath  "  spread  out  the  heavens  like  a 
curtain,"  and  ordeieth  the  motions  of  al) 
the  systems  of  a  crowded  immensity, 
"  shall  wipe  away  tears  from  off'  all 
faces." 

But  if  God  have  thus  revealed  himself 
in  the  manner  most  adapted  to  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  suffering,  does  not  the 
character  of  the  revelation  vastly  aggra- 
vate the  sinfulness  of  those  by  whom 
(iod  is  not  sought  ]  Let  all  ponder  I  he 
simple  truth,  that  the  having  in  their 
hands  a  Bible,  which  vv<»ndrously  exhibits 
the  tenderness  of  Deity,  will  leave  us 
without  excuse,  if  not  found  at  last  al 
peace  with  our  Maker.  For  we  are  not 
naturally  inaccessible  to  kindness.  We 
are  so  constituted  that  a  word  of  sympa- 
thy, when  we  are  in  trouble,  goes  at  once 
to  the  heart,  and  even  the  look  of  com- 
passion acts  as  a  cordial,  and  excites 
grateful  feelings.  We  have  only  to  be 
brought  into  ciicumstances  of  pain  and 
perplexity,  and  immediately  we  show 
ourselves  a(;utely  sensitive  to  the  voice 
of  consolation  ;  and  any  of  our  fellow- 
creatures  has  only  lo  approach  us  in  the 
character  of  a  comforter,  and  we  feeJ 
ourselves  drawn  out  towards  the  benevo- 
lent being,  and  give  him  at  once  out 
thankfulness  and  liiendship.  But  it  is 
not  thus  with  reference  to  God.  Ciod 
comes  to  us  in  the  hour  of  anxiety,  bid- 
dim  us  cast  all  our  care  upon  him;  but 
we  look  rf)und  for  another  resting-place. 
He  comes  to  us  in  the  season  of  afflic- 
tion, oft'ering  us  the  oil  and  wine  of  hea- 
venly consolation  ;  but  we  hew  out  for 
ourselves  "  broken  cisterns."  He  ap- 
proaches in  the  moment  of  danger,  prof- 
fering us  refuge  and  succor ;  l)ut  we 
trust  in  our  own  strength,  or  seek  help 
from  those  who  are  weak  as  ourselves. 
But  let  us  be  well  assured  that  this  sin- 
gle circumstance,  that  God  hath  reveal- 
ed himself  as  a  comforter,  to  those  whose 
condition  makes  them  need  comfort,  will 
])rove  us  inexcusable,  if  we  die  witlioul 
i(iving  him  the  heart's  best  afleciions. 
He  acts  upon  us  in  the  manner  in  which. 


C29 


SONGS  IN  TUB  NIGHT. 


•jotli  from  our  necessities  and  oiir  sus- 
ceptibilities, there  is  tlie  greatest  likeli- 
hood of  our  beiri'j^  moved  t<»  the  making 
him  the  prime  object  of  our  love.  And 
if.  notwithstanding,  we  piefer  the  crea- 
ture to  the  Creator,  what  shall  we  have 
to  urge,  w'len  he,  who  now  deals  with 
us  in  mercy,  begins  to  deal  with  us  in 
veii<reauce  ?  Yes,  it  is  not  the  manifes- 
tation of  majesty,  nor  of  power  nor  of 
awftilness,  which  will  leave  us  inexcu- 
sable ;  it  is  the  manifestation  of  compas- 
sion, of  good  will,  of  tenderness.  A 
fallen  and  unhappy  creature,  harassed 
\>y  a  th(»usand  griefs,  atid  exposed  to  a 
tliousand  perils,  might  have  slirunk  from 
exhibitions  of  Deity  on  his  throne  of 
clouds,  and  in  his  robes  of  light.  He 
might  have  pleaded  that  there  was  every 
thing  to  confound,  and  nothing  to  en- 
couraire  him.  15ut  what  can  he  say, 
when  the  exhibitions  arc  td  God,  as 
making  all  the  bed  of  the  sick  man  in  his 
sickness,  and  cheering  the  widow  in  her 
desolateness,  and  suj)plying  the  beggar 
in  his  poverty,  and  guarding  the  outcast 
in  his  exile  1  Are  not  these  exhibitions 
l<)U(;liing  enough,  thrilling  enough,  en- 
couraging enough  ]  Oh,  I  might  per- 
liaps  have  felt  thai  it  was  not  to  prove 
tlu^  human  race  necessarily  inexcusable 
in  tlujir  f  irgetfulnoss  of  (iod,  tf»  say,  none 
taith,  where  is  God  my  Maker  who  i.s 
••  ironj  everlasting,  and  to  everlasting," 
who  "  sittoth  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth, 
and  tlio  inhabitants  thereof  are  as  grass- 
h(»pf)ers,"  who  "  telleth  the  number  of 
the  ^lars,  and  calleth  them  all  by  their 
names" — but  I  feel  that  it  is  to  express 
such  a  wilful  hard-hcartedness  as  must 
dimiand  and  justify  the  severest  condem- 
natioii,  to  say,  "  nonesaith,  where  is  God 
my  Maker,  who  givetli  songs  in  the 
night  1  " 

Hut  we  now  proceed  to  the  showing 
you,  as  we  proposed  in  the  second  place, 
with  hf»w  great  truth  and  fitness  this 
toucliing  description  may  be  applied  to 
our  Mak<jr. 

W'u  Ijave  alieady  referred  to  the  pre- 
cise adaptation  of  the  Tiible  t(;  ourcircum- 
stance.'^,  and  w<!  would  now  examine  this 
adaptation  with  a  little  more  attention. 
We  may  assert  that  thoro  cann(»t  be  im- 
agined, much  less  found,  the  darkness, 
in  passing  through  whit'h  lluu'o  is  no  pro- 
mise of  Scripture  by  which  you  may  be 
cheered.  We  care  not  what  it  i.s  which 
hatli  woven  the  darkness  ;   we  are  sure 


that  God  has  made  provision  for  his  peo- 
ple's exulting,  rather  than  lamenting,  as 
the  jiloc^m  "fathers  round  them,  and  set- 
ties  over  them.  Whatever  be  the  nature 
of  the  afflictions  with  which  any  man  has 
been  visited,  can  he  deny,  if  indeed  he 
be  one  wh«»  has  received  Christ  into  the 
soul,  that  he  has  fi)und  '*  a  word  in  sea- 
sf)n"  in  Scripture;  will  he  not,  at  the 
least,  confess,  that,  if  he  have  passed 
through  the  period  of  calamity  without 
experiencing  such  consolations  a.-;  tilled 
him  with  jjrHtitude,  it  has  been  thidujjli 
his  own  fault  and  faithlessness,  seeing 
that  even  the  "  vale  of  IVaca  "  can  be 
used  by  the  lighteous  "  as  a  well." 

Let  us  take  the  case  of  most  fre(|uent 
occurrence,  but  of  which  liejjuency 
diminishes  nothing  of  the  bitterness. 
We  mean  the  case  of  the  loss  of  frieiuls, 
the  case  in  which  death  makes  way  into 
a  family,  and  carries  of!"  one  of  the  mr)st 
beloved  of  its  members.  It  is  niglu — 
deep  night,  in  a  household,  whensoever 
this  occurs.  When  the  loss  is  of  an- 
other kind,  it  may  admit  of  lepair. 
Property  may  be  injured,  some  cherish- 
ed plan  may  be  frustrated — but  industry 
may  be  again  successful,  and  iiope  may 
fix  its  eye  on  other  objects.  J>ut  when 
those  whom  we  love  best  die,  there  is  no 
comfort  of  this  sort  with  which  we  can 
be  comt'ortcd.  F(w  a  time,  at  le;isr,  the 
loss  seems  irreparable  ;  so  tliar,  though 
tlie  wounded  sensibilities  may  afterwards 
be  healed,  and  even  turn  to  the  living  as 
they  turned  to  the  dead,  yet,  \\1iilst  the 
calamity  is  fresh,  we  repulse,  as  injurious, 
the  thought  that  the  void  in  our  affec- 
tions can  ever  be  filled,  and  are  persuad- 
ed that  the  blank  in  tlie  domesiic  group 
can  be  occupied  by  nothing  but  the  hal- 
lowed memory  of  the  buried,  it  is 
therefore  night  in  the  household,  dark- 
ness, a  darkness  that  may  be  felt.  And 
philosophy  comes  in,  with  its  well-meant 
but  idle  endeavors  to  console  those  who 
sit  in  this  d;irkiiess.  It  can  speak  of  the 
iinavoidableness  of  death,  of  the  duty  of 
bearing  with  manly  fortitude  wliat  can- 
not be  esca|)ed,  of  the  injnriousness  of 
excessive  grief;  and  it  may  even  hazard 
a  con)e<"ture  of  reunion  in  some  world 
beyond  the  grave.  And  })leasure  ap- 
proaches with  its  allurements  v.ud  fasci- 
nations, offering  to  cheat  the  mind  into 
forgetfulness,  and  wile  the  heart  from 
its  sadness.  IJut  neither  philftsoj)hy  nor 
j>leasure    can    avail    any    thing    in     tho 


SONGS    IN    TIIK    NIGHT. 


229 


ohamber  of  death  ;  the  tajKM-  of  the  ono 
is  too  f'aii't  for  so  oppressive  a  gloom, 
and  the  torch  of  the  other  burns  sickly 
in  so  unwonted  an  atmosphcie.  Is  then 
tlie  (laikness  such  that  those  whom  it 
envelopes  are  incapable  of  being  com- 
forted '?  Oh,  not  so.  There  may  be 
those  amongst  yourselves  who  can  tes- 
tify, that,  even  in  a  night  so  dreary  and 
desolate,  there  is  a  source  whence  conso- 
lation may  be  drawn.  The  ])romises  of 
Scriptuie  are  never  more  strikingly  ful- 
filled than  vvlien  death  has  made  an  in- 
road, an<l  taken  away,  at  a  strrtke,  some 
object  of  deep  love.  Indeed,  it  is  God's 
own  word  to  the  believer,  "  I  will  be 
with  him  in  trouble" — as  though  that 
presence,  which  can  never  be  with- 
drawn, then  became  more  real  and  in- 
tense. 

What  are  we  to  say  of  cases  which 
continually  present  themselves  to  the 
parochial  minister  1  He  enters  a  house, 
whose  darkened  windows  proclaim  that 
one  of  its  inmates  is  stretched  out  a 
corpse.  He  finds  that  it  is  the  fairest 
and  dearest  whom  death  has  made  his 
prey,  and  that  the  blow  has  fallen  where 
sure  to  be  most  deeply  felt.  And  he  is 
prepared'for  the  burst  of  bitter  sorrow. 
He  knows  that  the  heart,  when  most 
purified  by  grace,  is  made  of  feeling 
stutf;  for  grace,  which  removes  the 
heart  of  stone,  and  substitutes  that  of 
flesh,  will  refine,  rather  than  extinguish, 
human  sensibilities.  But  what  words 
does  he  hear  from  lips,  whence  nothing 
but  lamentation  might  have  been  exj)ect- 
ed  to  issue  1  "  The  Lord  gave,  and  the 
Lord  hath  taken  away,  blessed  be  the 
name  of  the  Lord."  The  mother  will 
rise  up  from  the  side  of  her  pale  still 
child  ;  and  though  on  the  cheek  of  tliat 
child  (alas,  never  again  to  be  warm  with 
affection)  there  are  tears  which  show- 
how  a  parent's  grief  has  overflowed,  she 
will  break  into  the  exclamati«)n  of  the 
Psalmist,  "  I  will  sing  of  mercy  and 
nidgment,  unto  thee,  O  Lord,  will  I 
Bing."  And  when,  a  few  days  after,  the 
slow  windings  of  the  funeral  procession 
are  seen,  and  the  minister  advances  to 
meet  the  train,  and  pours  forth  the  rich 
and  inspiriting  words,  "  1  am  the  Re- 
•iuirection  and  the  Life,  he  that  believeth 
m  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he 
live  " — is  it  only  the  low  murmer  of  sup- 
pressed anguish  by  which  he  is  answer- 
ed ]  can  he  not  feel  thai  there  are  those 


in  the  group  whose  hearts  bound  at  the 
magnificent  announcemei.t  ?  and,  as  he 
looks  at  the  mouiiiers  does  he  not  ga- 
ther, from  the  uplifted  eye  anil  the  mov- 
ing lip,  that  there  is  one  at  least  who  i8 
triumphing  iti  the  fulfilment  of  the  pre- 
diction, "()  death,  I  will  be  thyphignen, 
<)  giave,  I  will  be  thy  destruction  1  " 

And  what  are  we  to  say  to  these 
things  ]  what  but  that,  in  the  deepef-l. 
moral  darkness,  there  can  be  music, 
music  which  sounds  softer  and  sweeter 
than  by  day  ;  and  that,  when  the  instru- 
ments of  human  melody  are  broken, 
there  is  a  hand  which  can  sweep  the 
heartstrings  and  wake  the  notes  of 
praise  t  Yes,  philosophy  can  communi- 
cate no  comfort  to  the  afflicted  ;  it  may 
enter  where  all  is  night ;  but  it  leaves 
what  it  found,  even  weeping  and  wailing. 
And  pleasure  may  take  the  lyre,  whose 
strains  have  often  seduced  and  enchant- 
ed :  but  the  worn  and  wearied  spirit  has 
no  ear,  in  the  gloom,  for  what  sounded, 
magically,  when  a  thousand  lights  were 
blazing.  But  religion,  faith  in  the  pro- 
mises of  that  God  who  is  the  Husband 
of  the  widow  and  the  Father  of  the 
fatherless,  this  can  cause  the  sorrowing 
to  be  glcid  in  the  midst  of  their  sorrow  ; 
for  it  is  a  description  which  every 
believer  will  confess  borne  out  by  experi- 
ence, that  God  our  Maker  "  giveth  songs 
in  the  night." 

But  again — how  beautifully  accurate 
is  this  descripti(m,  if  referred  generally 
to  God's  spiritual  dealings  with  our  race. 
It  may  well  be  said,  that,  so  soon  as  man 
had  fallen,  it  was  night  on  this  creation. 
The  creature  had  shut  itself  out  from  the 
favor  of  the  Creator;  and  what  was  this 
but  to  shroud  the  globe  with  the  worst 
of  all  darkness  i  It  was  a  daikness 
which  no  efforts  of  the  human  mind  have 
been  able  to  disperse.  There  is  a  point 
up  to  which  natuial  theology  has  ad- 
vanced, but  which  it  has  never  passed. 
It  has  discovered  a  want,  but  not  a  sup- 
ply ;  it  has  detected  a  disease,  but  nri 
if.s  remedy.  We  do  not  perhaps  Jieed 
the  written  word,  in  order  to  our  ascer- 
taining that  we  are  exposed  to  God's 
wrath.  The  remonstrances  and  forebo- 
dings of  conscience  are,  in  themselves, 
sufficient  to  excite  in  us  a  belief  and 
dread  of  judgment  to  come,  and  peihaps 
ti>  extort  from  us  the  inquiry,  "  Whal 
must  1  do  to  be  saved  ?"  But  the  an- 
swer to  this  inquiry  can  be  furnishet* 


230 


SONGS  IN  THE  NIGHT. 


only  by  a  higher  and  deeper  than  natu- 
ral tlieo»ogy.  We  make  some  way  by 
gropinfT  in  the  darkness,  but  cannot 
ermerge  intotlie  light. 

Hut,  (lod  be  thanked,  man  was  not 
left  to  complain,  and  lament,  in  the  midst 
of  that  darkness  wliicli  his  ap<jstacy 
wove.  Tliere  were  provisions  for  Ins 
rescue,  which  came  into  force  at  Jhe 
moment  of  transgreseion.  No  sooner 
had  man  falleti  than  prf)phecy,  in  the 
form(»f  a  promise,  took  the  span  of  time, 
and  g;>thercd  into  a  sentence  the  moral 
history  of  the  world.  And  we  have 
great  reason  for  believing  that  even 
unto  Adam  did  this  promise  speak  of 
gor)d  things  to  come,  and  that  he  was 
coml'orted,  in  his  exile  from  Paradise, 
by  the  hope  which  it  gave  him  of  final 
deliverance.  Compelled  though  he  was 
to  till  an  earth,  on  which  rested  the 
curse  of  its  Creator,  he  may  have  known 
that  there  was  blessing  in  store;  and 
that,  though  he  and  his  children  must 
dig  the  grourwl  in  the  sweat  of  their 
brow,  there  would  fall  on  it  a  sweat  like 
great  drops  of  Wood,  having  virtue  to 
remove  the  oppressive  malediction.  It 
must  have  been  bitter  to  him  to  hear  of 
(he  thorn  and  the  thistle;  but  he  may 
have  learnt  how  thorns  would  be  woven 
into  a  crown,  and  placed  round  tiie  fore- 
head of  one  who  should  be  the  lost 
•'  tree  of  life"  to  a  dying  creation.  It 
was  only  to  have  been  expected,  when 
the  fatal  act  had  been  committed,  that 
there  would  have  ascended  from  the 
earth  one  fearful  cry,  and  that  then  an 
eternal  silence  would  have  covered  the 
desecrated  glohe.  But,  in  place  of  this 
— though  the  gathered  night  was  not  at 
once  dispersed — there  still  went  up  the 
anthem  of  praise  from  lowing  herds, 
and  waving  corn,  and  stately  forests  ; 
and  man,  in  his  exile,  had  an  evening 
and  a  morning  hymn,  which  spake  grate- 
fully of  the  head  of  the  serpent  as  bruis- 
ed by  the  seed  of  the  woman — and  all 
bocause  God  had  already  discovered 
hims(;lf  as  our  Maker  "  who  giveth  songs 
in  the  night." 

Thus  also  it  has  been,  and  is,  with  in- 
dividual cases.  There  may  be  many  in 
this  assembly  who  have  known  what  it 
is  to  be  oppressed  with  apprehensions 
of  God's  wrath  against  sin.  They  have 
passed  through  that  dreaiy  season,  wlieti 
conscience,  often  succiessfully  lesistinl, 
ur  dragged  into  sluml>cr,  mightily  asserts 


its  authority,  arrays  the  transgressions 
of  a  life,  and  anticipates  the  penalties  of 
an  eternity.  An-d  we  say  of  the  man 
wlio  is  suifering  from  conviction  of  sin, 
that  it  is  more  truly  night  with  him,  the 
night  of  the  soul,  than  with  the  more 
wretched  of  those  on  whom  lie  the  bur- 
dens of  temporal  wo.  Ami  natural  the- 
ology, as  we  have  already  stated,  can 
offer  no  encouragement  in  this  utter 
midnight.  It  may  have  done  its  part  in 
producing  the  convictions,  but,  in  so 
doing,  must  have  exhausted  its  resources. 
All  its  efforts  must  have  been  directed 
to  the  furnishing  demcwistrations  of  the 
inflexible  government  of  a  God  of  jus- 
tice and  righteousness> ;  and  the  more 
powerful  these  dcmionstrations,  the  more 
would  they  shut  up  the  transgressor  to 
the  certainty  of  destruction.  And  never- 
theless, after  a  time,  you  find  the  man, 
who  had  been  brought  into  so  awful  a 
darkness,  and  for  whose  comfort  there 
is  nothing  to  be  gained  from  natuial  the- 
ology, walking  in  gladness,  with  a  light- 
ened heart  and  a  buoyant  ,sj)irit.  What 
could  not  be  found  in  the  stores  of  na- 
tural theology,  has  beiMi  found  in  those 
of  revealed  intelligence,  that  God  can,  at 
the  same  time,  be  just  and  a  justifier, 
that  sinners  can  be  pa)doned,  and  sins 
not  go  unpunished.  Therefore  is  it  that 
he  who  was  in  darkness,  the  darkness 
t)f  the  soul,  is  now  lifting  up  his  head 
with  joy,  and  exulting  in  hope.  The 
Spirit  of  God,  which  pioduced  the  con- 
viction, has  taken  of  the  things  of  Christ, 
and,  showing  them  to  the  soul,  made 
them  eft'ectual  to  conversion.  And  we 
call  upor»  you  to  con>pare  the  man  in 
these  two  estates.  With  his  conscious- 
ness of  the  evil  of  sin  heightened,  rather 
than  diminished,  you  find  him  changed 
from  the  (lesjM)niling  into  the  tiiumph- 
ant ;  exhibiting,  in  the  largest  measure, 
the  accomplisliment  of  the  words,  that 
there  shall  be  given  "  beauty  for  ashes, 
the  oil  of  joy  for  mourning,  and  the 
garment  »>f  praise  for  the  spirit  of  heav- 
iness." You  can  offer  no  account  of  thia 
surjrrising  tiansformation,  whilst  you 
search  I'or  its  reasotis  in  natural  cai.ses. 
But  when  you  appeal  to  the  workings 
of  Omnipotence  ;  when  you  tell  us  of  a 
propitiation  fur  sin  ;  when  you  refer  to 
a  divine  agent,  vviiose  .special  office  it  is, 
to  bring  men  to  put  faith  in  a  sacrifice 
which  reconciled  a  guilty  world  to  i»^ 
(/'n.-alor — then   you   leave  no  caus^   fi>i 


BONGS  IN  THE  NIGHT. 


231 


surprise,  that,  from  a  soul,  round  winch 
had  gathered  deep  and  stern  shadows, 
there  should  be  iLsceiidinpf  the  rich  notes 
of  praise,  and  the  stirring  strains  of 
hope  ;  hut  then  you  are  (^nly  proving 
with  what  exquisite  truth  it  may  he  said, 
that  God  our  Maker  "  giveth  songs  in  the 
night."  . 

We  might  easily  multiply  our  illustra- 
tions. We  mijjht  follow  the  believer 
through  all  the  stages  of  his  progress 
from  earth  to  heaven  ;  and  wheresoever 
yf>u  could  show  that  it  was  night,  there 
could  we  show  you  that  God  "  giveth 
songs."  It  is  not  that  he  giveth  no  songs 
in  the  day  ;  for  he  is  with  his  people, 
and  he  wakes  their  praises,  in  all  time 
of  their  wealth,  as  well  as  in  all  time  of 
their  tribulation.  But  it  is  our  nature  to 
rejoice  when  all  within  and  without  is  un- 
disturbed ;  the  mii'acle  is  to  "  rejoice 
in  tiiltulation  ,"  and  this  miracle  is  con- 
tinually wrought  as  the  believer  presses 
through  the  wilderness.  The  harp  of 
the  human  spirit  never  yields  such  sweet 
music,  as  when  its  framework  is  most 
shattered,  and  its  strings  are  most  torn. 
Then  it  is,  when  the  world  pronounces 
the  instrument  useless,  and  man  would 
put  it  away  as  incapable  of  melody,  that 
the  finger  of  God  delights  in  touching  it, 
and  draws  from  it  a  fine  swell  of  har- 
mony. Come  night,  come  calamity, 
come  affliction.  God  still  says  to  his 
peo[)le,  as  he  said  to  the  Jews,  when 
expecting  the  irruption  f)f  the  Assyrian, 
"  ye  shall  have  a  song,  as  in  the  night." 
Is  it  the  loss  of  property  with  which 
believers  are  visited  ]  Our  Maker  "  giv- 
eth songs  in  the  night,"  and  the  chorus 
is  heard,  we  have  in  heaven  "  a  better, 
even  an  enduring  substance."  Is  it  the 
loss  of  friends  ?  Our  Maker,  as  we  have 
shown  you,  "  giveth  songs  in  the  night ;" 
they  "  sorrow  not,  even  as  others  which 
have  no  hope  ;"  and  over  the  very  grave 
is  heard  the  fine  confession,  "  Blessed 
are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord." 
Have  they  their  seasons  of  spiritual  de- 
pression, when  they  cannot  realize  their 
privileges,  nor  assure  themselves  of  ac- 
ceptance with  God  ]  Indeed  this  is  hard 
to  bear — perhaps  the  severest  of  the 
trials  which  they  are  called  to  endure. 
This  was  David  s  case,  when  he  pathe- 
tically exclaimed,  "  Deep  calleth  unto 
deep,  at  the  noise  of  thy  water- spoutt;  ; 
all  thy  waves  and  thy  billows  are  gone 
over  me."    Yet  the  Psalmist  could  tro  on, 


in  the  very  next  verse,  to  declare,  "  The 
Lord  will  command  his  loving-kindness 
in  the  day-time,  and  in  the  night  his 
song  shfill  be  with  me."  And  no  believ- 
er holds  fast  his  confidence,  as  David 
did,  without  pniving,  that,  if  God  hide 
for  a  while  the  light  of  his  countenance, 
it  is  in  order  to  make  it  more  valued  ; 
without  finding  cause  to  break  into  the 
song,  "  it  is  good  for  me  that  I  was 
afflicted."  Let  the  thickest  night  ga- 
ther; let  death  be  at  hand  ;  and  shall  it 
be  said  that  our  text  fails  of  accomplish- 
ment !  On  the  contrary,  it  is  here 
emphatically  true  that  our  Maker  "  giv- 
eth songs  in  the  night."  The  believer 
in  Christ  knows  and  feels  that  his  Re- 
deemer "  hath  abolished  death."  He  is 
not  insensible  to  the  terrors  of  death  ; 
for  he  legards  the  separation  of  soul  and 
body  as  a  direct  consequence  of  the 
original  curse,  and  therefore  awful  and 
disastrous.  But  then  he  is  so  assured 
of  immortality  and  a  resurrection,  that 
he  can  approach  the  grave  with  confi- 
dence, and  even  exult  that  his  departure 
is  at  hand.  What  upholds  the  dpng 
man  1  What  throws  over  his  wasted 
countenance  that  air  of  serenity  ?  What 
prompts  those  expressions  of  peace, 
those  bieathings  of  hope,  which  seem 
so  little  in  accordance  with  his  cix-- 
cumstances  of  trouble  and  decay  1  It  is 
that  God  is  whispering  to  his  soul  such 
words  as  these,  "  Fear  thou  not,  fori  am 
with  thee  ;  be  not  dismayed,  for  I  am 
thy  God ;  I  will  strengthen  thee,  yea,  I 
will  help  thee."  It  is  that  his  Maker  is 
reminding  him  of  the  pledge,  that  death 
shall  be  swallowed  up  in  victory  ;  that 
he  is  already  causing  the  minstrelsy  of 
the  eternal  city  to  come  stealing  on  hi»^ 
car — and  is  not  all  this  the  most  con- 
vincing and  touching  evidence,  that 
God  our  Maker  "  giveth  songs  in  the 
night  ]  " 

Who  would  not  be  a  believer  in 
Christ  1  who  would  not  be  at  peace  with 
God?  When  such  arc  the  privileges  of 
righteousness,  the  piivileges  through) 
life,  the  privileges  in  death,  the  wonder 
is,  that  all  are  not  eager  to  close  with 
the  oilers  of  the  Gospel,  and  make  those 
privileges  their  own.  Yet,  alas,  the 
ministers  of  Christ  have  to  exclaim,  with 
the  prophet,  "  who  hath  believed  our  re- 
port ?  "  and,  with  Elihu,  "none  saith, 
where  is  God  my  Maker,  who  giveth 
songs  in  the  night  ]  "     There  may  yet  l)« 


232 


TESTIMONY    CONFIRMED    DY    EXPERIENCE. 


moral  insensibility  in  numbers  who  hear 
mo.  What  shall  we  say  to  them  ? 
They  may  have  youth  on  their  side,  and 
health,  and  plenty.  The  sky  may  be 
clear,  and  the  voice  of  j(;y  may  be  heard 
in  their  dwellinfr.  But  there  must  come 
a  night,  .1  dreary  and  oppressive  night ; 
for  youth  must  depart,  and  strength  be 
enfeebled,  and  sorrow  encountered,  and 
the  shadows  of  evening  fall  upon  the 
path.  And  what  will  they  do  then,  if 
now,  as  God  complains  by  his  prophet, 
"  the  harp  and  the  viul,  the  tab  ret,  and 
pipe,  and  wine,  are  in  their  feasts,  but 
they  regjird  not  the  work  of  the  Lord, 
neither  consider  the  operation  of  his 
hands?"  They  may  have  their  song 
now;  but  then  we  shall  have  only  the 
bitter  exclamation,  "  the  liarvcst  is  pass- 
ed, the  summer  is  ended,  and  we  are  not 
saved."  We  warn  you  in  time.  Though 
the  firmament  be  bright,  we  show  you 
the  cloud,  small  as  a  man's  hand,  already 


rising  from  the  sea ;  and  we  urge  you  to 
the  breaking  loose  from  habits  of  sin, 
and  fleeing  straightway  to  the  Mediator 
Christ.  It  is  for  baubles  which  they 
despise  when  acquired,  wealth  which 
they  count  nothing  when  gained,  gratifi- 
cations which  they  loathe  so  soon  as 
passed,  that  men  sell  their  souls.  And 
all  that  we  now  entreat  of  the  young,  is, 
that  they  will  not,  in  the  spring-time  of 
life,  strike  this  foul  bargain.  In  the 
name  of  Him  who  made  you,  wc  be- 
seech you  to  separate  yourselves  at  once 
from  evil  practices  and  evil  associates ; 
lest,  in  that  darkest  of  all  dai-kness,  when 
the  sun  is  to  be  "  black  as  sackcloth  of 
hair,"  and  the  moon  as  bloxT,  and  the 
stars  are  to  fall,  you  may  utter  nothing 
but  the  passionate  cry  of  despair ;  whilst 
the  righteous  are  lifting  up  their  heads 
with  joy,  and  pro\ing  that  they  have 
trusted  in  a  God  "  who  giveth  songs  in 
the  night." 


SERMON    III. 


TESTIMONY  CONFIRMED  BY  EXPERIENCE. 


'  A«  wc  h«ve  lieard,  so  hayo  we  seen,  in  the  city  of  the  T^ord  of  Host-!,  in  tbe  city  of  our  God ;  God  will  establish 

it  for  ever."— Psalm  xlvhi.  8. 


There  is  a  very  striking  part  in  the 
Litany  of  our  church,  when,  between 
two  earnest  suppliciitions  for  deliverance, 
God  is  reminded  of  the  great  things 
which  he  had  wrought  in  former  times. 
The  supplications  to  which  we  refer 
are  put  into  the  mouths  of  the  people. 
"O  Lord,  arise,  help  us,  and  deliver 
us  for  thy  name's  sake."  "  O  Lord, 
arise,  help  us,  and  deliver  us  for  thine 
honor."  Between  these  the  min- 
ister is  directed  to  exclaim,  "O  (jod. 
we  have  heard  with  our  ears,  and  our 
fathers  have  declared  unto  us,  the  noble 


works  that  thou  didst  in  their  days,  and 
in  the  old  time  before  them."  We  are 
always  much  struck  with  this  exclama- 
tion, and  with  the  consecpient  alteration 
in  the  plea  with  which  the  people  urge 
their  suit  for  deliverance.  In  the  first 
petition  it  is,  "deliver  us  for  thy  name's 
sake;"  in  the  second,  "deliver  us  for 
thine  honor."  The  minister  has  heard 
the  congregati(Mi  invoking  God  to  conie 
forth  to  their  succor,  and  humbly  remind- 
ing him  how  consistent  it  would  be  with 
all  lh(!  attril)utes  of  his  nature — for  these 
are  included   in   his   name — to  comply 


TESTIMONY  CONFIRMED  BY  EXPERIENCE. 


233 


with  their  earnest  supplication.  And 
then  the  minister,  as  though  he  knew 
tliat  there  was  yet  liigher  ground  which 
tlie  people  might  take,  conimemorales 
tlie  marvellous  interpositions  of  which 
olden  times  had  set  down  the  records, 
reminding  the  congregation,  hy  mak- 
ing confession  to  God,  of  deliveiances 
wrought  on  behalf  of  theii  fathers.  The 
people  are  animated  by  the  recollection. 
They  feel  that  God  has  pledged  himself, 
by  former  answers  to  prayer,  to  arise, 
and  shield  those  who  cast  themselves  on 
his  help.  His  own  glory  has  become 
concerned  in  the  not  leaving  such  to  per- 
ish :  and  shall  they  not  then,  with  fiesh 
confidence,  reiterate  their  petition  1  No 
sooner  therefore  has  the  minister  com- 
memorated God's  meicies,  than  the  peo- 
ple, as  though  they  had  a  new  source  of 
hope,  press  their  suit  with  yet  greater 
earnestness ;  and  their  voices  mingle  in 
the  cry,  "  O  Lord,  arise,  help  us,  and 
deliver  us  for  thine  honor."  Is  not  this 
portion  of  our  Litany  constructed  on  the 
princij)le,  that,  what  we  have  heard  of 
God's  doings  in  other  times,  we  may  ex- 
pect to  see  or  experience  in  our  own. 
provided  only  there  be  similarity  of  cir- 
cumstance 1  are  not,  in  short,  the  exclam- 
ation of  the  minister,  and  the  consequent 
petition  of  the  people,  the  expressions  of 
a  hope,  or  rather  a  belief,  that  the  words 
of  our  text  shall  again  be  appropriate,  "  as 
we  have  heard,  so  have  we  seen,  in  the 
city  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts  ?  " 

It  must  have  been  to  some  special  in- 
stance in  which  God  had  wrought  a  de- 
liverance, uarallcl  to  one  celebrated  in 
Jewish  annals,  that  reference  is  >nade  in 
cur  text.  The  statement  is  exactly  what 
would  be  uttered,  if  the  parties  who 
have  joined  in  the  quoted  sentences  <jf 
our  Litany,  were  to  l)ecome  the  subjects 
of  a  divine  interposition,  similar  to  those 
which  the  minister  commemorated.  ]?ut 
it  is  observed  by  Bishop  Horsley,  that 
there  is  no  recorded  interference  of  God 
on  behalf  of  Jerusalem,  which  answers 
to  the  languag,e  employed  in  this  Psalm. 
And  it  is  therefore  j)robable  that  a  pro- 
phetic, or,  at  least,  a  spiritual  interpre- 
tation must  be  given  to  the  hymn.  In- 
deed there  are  expressions  which  will 
not  admit  of  being  ap])lied  to  the  literal 
Jerusalem.  Thus,  in  our  text,  it  is  said 
of  the  city  of  our  God,  "God  will  es- 
tablish it  i'ov  ever  " — %^  prediction  which 
catuiot  belong  to  the  metri)[>olis  of  Ju- 


dea,  which  was  ofien  given  up  to  tlio 
spoiler,  but  which  holds  goi  id  of  that 
spiritual  city,  the  Church  of  God,  against 
which  Christ  declared  that  "  the  gates 
of  hell  shall  never  prevail."  And  when, 
tow-ards  the  conclusion  of  the  Psalm, 
the  succored  peoj)le  are  bidden  to  mai  ch 
in  joyful  procession  round  their  beauti- 
ful city,  that  they  might  see  how  un- 
scathed were  its  walls,  how  glorious  its 
structures — "  walk  about  Zion,  and  go 
round  about  her  ;  tell  the  towers  thereof; 
mark  ye  well  her  bulwarks,  consider  her 
[)alaces,  that  ye  may  tell  it  to  the 
generation  follovving" — you  can  scarce- 
ly fail  to  feel,  that  the  thing  enjoined  is 
the  considering  and  admiring  the  })ri- 
vileges  and  securities  of  the  cliuich,  in 
order  that  we  may  both  prize  them  t)ur- 
selves,  and  be  incited  to  the  preserving 
them  for  our  children. 

We  may  therefore  regard  our  text 
as  uttered  by  members  of  tlie  Church  of 
Christ,  that  city  of  God  which  is  made 
t»Iad  by  the  streams  of  the  river  of  life. 
It  is  an  assertion,  made  Viy  those  who 
had  fled  to  the  church  for  safety,  expect- 
ing deliverance  within  its  walls,  tliat 
their  own  experience  bore  out  to  the 
letter  what  had  been  re|)orted  by  the 
believers  of  other  days.  The  difierenco 
between  hearing  and  seeing,  of  which 
they  make  mentiotj,  is  the  ditleience  be- 
tween receiving  truth  on  the  testimony 
of  others,  and  the  being  ourselves  its 
witnesses — a  distinction  such  as  that 
which  the  patriarch  Job  diew,  when 
humbled  through  a  personal  acquaint- 
ance with  the  dealings  of  God,  "  1  have 
lieav'l  of  thee  by  the  hearing  ctf  the  ear, 
hut  now  mine  eyeseeth  thea  ;  v/hei'^iore 
I  abhor  myself,  and  lepent  in  dust  ana 
ashes."  And  the  great  principle,  or 
fact,  which  it  will  become  us  to  endeavor 
to  establish  and  illustrate  in  discoursing 
on  our  text,  is,  that  before  there  is  any 
personal  expeiience  in  matters  of  re- 
iitjion,  there  may  be  an  actinfj  on  the 
experience  of  others,  and  that,  where- 
soever this  is  faithfully  done,  the  person- 
al experience  will  be  the  probable 
result.  We  proceed  at  once  to  the 
exhibiting  this  princij>Ie  or  fact  ;  design- 
ing to  adduce,  if  j)ossible,  the  most 
practical,  as  well  as  the  most  apposite 
instances,  in  which  men  may  say,  "  fis 
wc  have  heard,  so  have  we  seen,  in  the 
city  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts." 

Now  we  shall  begin   with  an  applica- 
30 


234 


Tl-.STIMOW  CONFIRMED  BY   EXPERIENCE. 


tion  of  tlie  principle  involveil  inouAext, 
which  has  het'ii  made  at  <j;vv'.it  length  by 
modern  writers,*  and  whose  itnpoilance 
seems  to  rhiim  for  it  theclnsest  attention. 
We  refer  to  the  way  in  which  men 
reach  their  persuasion  that  the  Hihle  is 
(Jod's  word;  iiir  they  evidently,  for  the 
most  jKirt,  receive  the  JJihIe  as  inspired, 
lonsi^  hef  irc  they  can  prove  any  tiling  in 
regard  of  its  inspiration.  We  put  the 
Bible  into  the  hands  of  oiir  children,  as 
tlie  word  of  the  living  (lod,  and  there- 
fore demanding  a  reverence  which  can 
be  churned  by  no  other  volume  in  tlie 
whole  circle  of  authorship.  And  our 
children  <jrovv  up  with  what  mirjht  al- 
most  be  called  an  innate  persuasion  of 
the  inspiration  of  Scripture  ;  they  are 
all  but  born  with  the  belief;  and  they 
carry  it  with  them  to  riper  years,  rather 
as  a  received  axiom,  than  as  a  demon- 
strated verity.  It  is  almost  exclusively 
on  hearsay,  if  we  may  use  the  word,  that 
the  Bible  is  taken  as  divine,  and  the 
Apocryi»lia  [)assed  by  as  human  ;  so  that 
numbers,  who  are  perhaps  strenuous  for 
the  right  of  private  judgment,  do  virtu- 
ally, in  the  most  important  matter,  re- 
ceive and  reject  (>ii  the  sole  authority  of 
the  church. 

And  it  is  well  that  it  is  so.  If  there 
were  nothing  of  this  taking  upon  trust ; 
if  every  man,  in  place  of  having  to  set 
himself  to  the  j)erusal  of  a  volume  which 
lie  regards  as  divine,  must  lii-st  ])ick  out 
by  laborious  study,  from  all  the  author- 
ship of  antiquity,  the  few  pages  which 
really  bear  the  signature  of  heaven,  there 
would  be  an  arrest  on  the  progress  of 
Christianity;  for  the  life  of  each  would 
be  exhausted,  ere  he  had  constructed 
th(!  book  by  which  he  must  be  guided. 
And  yet  h  cannot  be  taken  as  a  very 
salisfactoiy  account  of  human  belief,  that 
it  thus  iiillows  upon  human  bidding. 
But  it  is  here,  as  we  believe,  that  tfie 
jirinciple  of  our  text  comes  beautifully 
into  oj>eration.  The  church,  like  a 
jiarenl  of  a  fainily,  gives  a  volume  ii^to 
ihe  hands  of  those  who  join  her  commu- 
nion, bidding  them  recc-ive  it  as  the 
divine,  and  study  it  as  the  word  which 
caiialoiu;  guiile  rluMii  to  glory.  And  her 
inembers,  like  the  children  of  tin;  house- 
hold, iiave  Hi)  better  reason,  at  first,  Ibr 
receiving  the  Bible  as  inspired,  than  be- 


*  P.irticulaily  Dr.   ClmliiieM  in  llie  fuuilh  \'i- 
(uoic  ot"  his  works. 


cause  they  have  heard  so  in  the  city  of 
the  Lord.  They  yield  so  much  of  re- 
spect to  tilt"  directions  of  their  author- 
ized teachers,  or  to  the  impressicms 
which  have  been  graven  on  them  from 
infancy,  as  to  give  their  homau^e  to  a 
volume  which  is  presumed  to  bear  so 
lofty  a  character.  l>ut  then  though  it 
may  thus  be  on  heaisay  that  they  first 
receive  the  Bible  as  inspired,  it  is  not 
on  hearsay  that  they  continue  to  receive 
it.  We  speak  now  of  those  wh(»  have 
searched  the  Scriptures  tor  everlasting 
life,  and  who  feel  that  they  have  found 
therein  a  revelation  of  the  alone  modo 
of  forgiveness.  We  speak  of  those  in 
whom  the  word  has  "  wrought  effectual- 
ly ;  "  and  we  confidently  afiirm  of  them, 
that,  though  at  one  time  they  believed 
in  the  inspiration  of  the  canonical  Scrip- 
tures, because  their  parents  taught  it,  or 
their  ministers  maintained  it,  yet  now 
are  they  in  juissessicm  of  a  personal,  ex- 
perimental, evidence,  which  is  thorough- 
ly conclusive  on  this  fundamental  point. 
It  is  not  that  they  have  gone  through  the 
laborious  demonstrations  by  which  the 
learned  have  sustained  the  claims  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testaments.  It  is  coin 
paratively  a  very  smali  fraction  of  a  com- 
munity who  can  examine  the  grounds  on 
which  the  church  rests  her  judgment; 
and  it  is  with  the  case  of  the  great  mass 
that  we  now  wisti  to  deal. 

But  we  will  give  you  what  we  reckon 
the  history  of  the  uneducated  believer, 
so  far  as  Ids  acquaintance  with  revela- 
tion is  concerned.  He  may  perhaps 
have  been  neglected  in  boyhood,  so  that 
he  has  grown  up  in  ignorance  ;  but  ho 
is  visiteci  by  the  minister  of  his  parish 
in  some  seasons  of  affliction,  when  the 
ruggedtiess  of  liis  nature  is  somewhat 
worn  down  by  sorrow.  The  minister 
j)i  esses  upon  him  the  study  of  the  IJible, 
as  of  the  word  of  his  Creator,  assuring 
him  that  he  will  therein  find  God's  will 
as  revealed  by  his  Spirit.  The  cottager 
has  undoubtedly  heard  of  the  Bible  be- 
fore; and  it  is  no  news  to  him,  that  it 
passes  as  a  more  than  human  book. 
But  he  has  never  yet  given  heed  to  what 
he  heard  :  the  book  has  been  unopened, 
notwithstanding  the  high  claims  which 
it  was  known  to  advance.  But  now, 
softene<l  by  the  minister's  kindness,  and 
moved  by  his  statements,  he  sets  him- 
self diligently  to  the  p«Musal  of  Scripture, 
and  statedly  attends  its  Sabbath  exposi- 


TESTIMONY  CONFIRMED  BY  EXPERIENCE. 


235 


tions.  And  thus,  though  ho  is  acting 
only  what  he  has  heard,  he  brings  him- 
self under  the  self-evidencing  power  of 
Scri|tture,  that  power  by  which  the  con- 
tents of  the  Bible  serve  as  its  credentials. 
And  iliis  self-evidencing  power  is  won 
ilcrfdlly  great.  The  more  than  human 
knowledge  which  the  Scripture  displays 
in  regard  of  the  most  secret  workings  f)f 
the  heart ;  the  marvellous  and  unerring 
precision  with  which  the  provisions  of 
the  (xospel  adapt  themselves  to  the 
known  wants  and  disabilities  of  our 
nature;  the  constancy  with  which  the 
promises  and  directions  of  holy  writ,  if 
put  to  the  proof,  are  made  good  in  one's 
own  case — these  and  the  like  evidences 
of  the  divine  origin  of  the  Bible,  j)ress 
themselves  quickly  on  the  most  illiterate 
student,  when  he  searches  it  in  humility, 
hoping  to  find,  as  he  has  been  told  that 
he  shall,  a  message  from  (rod  vvliich  will 
gui<le  him  towards  heaven.  He  began 
on  the  testimony  of  another;  but,  after 
a  while,  he  goes  forward  on  his  own 
testimony.  And  though  he  has  not  been 
sitting  in  judgment  on  the  credentials 
of  christiaiiity,  yet  has  he  possessed  him- 
self of  its  contents;  and  on  these  he  has 
found  so  much  of  the  impress,  and  from 
them  there  has  issued  so  much  of  the 
voice  of  Deity,  that  he  is  as  certified  in 
his  own  mind,  and  on  grounds  as  satis- 
factory, of  the  inspiration  of  Scripture, 
as  any  laborious  and  scientific  inquirer, 
who  has  lifled  the  riches  of  centuries, 
and  brought  them  all  to  do  homage  be- 
fore our  holy  religion.  God  has  no 
more  given  to  the  learned  the  monopo- 
ly of  evidctice,  than  to  the  wealthy  the 
monopoly  of  benevolence.  The  poor 
man  can  exercise  benevolence,  for  the 
widow's  two  mites  may  outweigh  the 
noble's  coffers  :  and  the  poor  man  may 
have  an  evidence  that  God  is  in  the 
Bible,  fi)r  it  may  speak  to  his  heart  as 
no  human  book  can. 

And  if  you  contrast  the  man,  when 
the  minister  of  CMirist  first  entered  his 
cotta<j:e,  with  what  he  is  after  patient 
obedience  U>  the  injunctions  of  the 
church — in  the  one  case,  the  mere  giv- 
er of  asserjt  to  a  fellow-man's  testimony  ; 
in  the  other,  the  delighted  possessor  of 
a  "  witness  in  himself;  "  in  the  first  in- 
stance, a  believer  not  so  much  in  the 
inspiration  of  Scripture,  as  in  the  vera- 
city of  the  individual  who  announces  it, 
but,  in    the    second,  a    believer   in    thai 


inspiration,  because  conscience  and  un- 
derstanding and  heart  have  all  felt  and 
confessed  the  superhuman  aui.horsliij) — 
Oh,  as  by  thus  contrasting  and  compar- 
ing, you  determine,  that,  through  sim[)ly 
acting  on  what  was  told  him,  the  man 
has  been  carried  forward  to  a  personal, 
experimental,  demonstration  of  its  truth, 
you  must  admit  that  he  may  class  him- 
self with  those  who  can  say,  "  as  we 
have  heard,  so  have  we  seen,  in  the  city 
of  the  Lord  of  Hosts." 

But  the  principle  has  been  carried  yet 
further  than  this,  and,  we  thiirk.  with 
great  justice.  It  must  be  believed  of 
the  large  mass  of  protestants,  that  they 
have  never  even  read  the  apocryphal 
books,  much  less  searched  into  the  rea- 
sons on  which  these  books  are  pronoun- 
ced not  inspired.  Here  thereft)re  it  can- 
not be  said,  that  what  has  been  heard  is 
also  seen  in  the  city  of  God.  We  can 
prftve  this  in  regard  of  the  Canonical 
Scri|)tures,  because  we  can  prove,  tliat, 
when  perused  in  obedience  to  what  is 
heard,  they  quickly  evidence  theirorigin. 
But  we  seem  unable  to  prove  this  in  re- 
gard of  the  Apociyphal  Scriptures  ;  for 
they  are  not  used  to  be  subjected  to  any 
such  test. 

But  s'fippose  they  were  subjected  to 
the  like  test,  and  why  might  we  not  ex- 
pect the  like  result  '.'  There  is  to  our 
mind  something  inexpressibly  grand  and 
beautiful  in  the  thought  that  (lod  dwells, 
as  it  were,  in  the  syllables  which  he  has 
indited  for  the  instruction  of  humankind, 
so  that  he  may  be  ff)und  there  when 
diligently  sought,  though  he  do  not  thus 
iidiabit  any  other  writing.  He  breathed 
himself  into  the  compositions  (»f  pro- 
phets, and  apostles,  and  evantjclists  ; 
and  there,  as  in  the  mystic  lecesses  of 
an  everlasting  sanctuary,  heslill  resides, 
ready  tf)  disclose  himself  to  the  Immhle, 
and  to  be  evoked  by  the  jirayerful.  But 
in  regard  of  every  other  book,  however 
iVaught  it  may  be  with  the  maxims  of 
piety,  however  })regnant  with  moment- 
ous truths,  there  is  nothing  of  this  shrin- 
ing himself  of  Deity  in  the  depths  of  its 
meaning.  Men  may  be  instructcid  by 
its  pages,  and  draw  from  them  ho[ie  and 
consolation  But  never  will  they  fitid 
there  the  burning  Shekinah,  which  pro- 
claims the  actual  presence  of  God ; 
never  hear  a  voice,  as  from  th.- soiirudcs 
of  an  oracle,  pronouncing  the  vv(»rds  of 
immortality. 


236 


TESTIMONV  CONFIRMED  BY  EXPERIENCB. 


And  we  should  never  fear  the  bring- 
ing any  canonical  book,  or  any  apocry- 
phal, to  the  test  thus  supposed.  Let  a 
tnan  take  a  canonical  book,  and  let  him 
take  an  apocryplial ;  and  let  him  deter- 
mine to  study  l)oth  on  the  supposition 
that  biith  are  divir)e,  because  doubtful 
whether  the  church  be  right  in  lier 
decision,  or  desirous  to  gain  evidence 
for  himself.  And  if  he  be  a  sincere  in- 
•luirer  after  truth,  (me  really  anxious  to 
ascertain,  in  order  that  he  may  perform, 
the  whole  will  of  God,  we  know  not  why 
heshould  nut  experience  the  accomplish- 
ment of  Christ's  words,  "  If  any  man 
will  do  his  will,  he  shall  know  of  the 
doctrine  whether  it  be  of  God,"  atid  thus 
reach  a  sound  decision  as  to  which  book 
is  inspired,  and  which  not.  As  ht?  studies 
the  inspired  book  with  humility  and 
prayer,  lie  will  find  its  statements  brought 
home  to  his  conscience  and  heart,  with 
that  extraordinary  force  which  is  never 
attached  to  a  human  composition.  He 
may  not  be  able  to  construct  a  clear 
argument  for  tlu^  divine  origin  of  the 
book  ;  yet  will  the  cones]iondence  be- 
tween what  the  book  states  and  what  he 
expeiiences,  and  the  constancy  with 
which  the  fulfilment  of  its  promises  fol- 
lows on  subnnssion  to  its  precepts,  com- 
bine into  an  evidence,  thoroughly  satis- 
factory to  himself,  that  the  pages  which 
he  reads  had  God  for  their  author.  But 
as  he  studies  the  non-inspired  book,  he 
will  necessarily  miss  these  tokens  and 
impresses  of  Deity.  There  will  be  none 
of  those  mysterious  soundings  of  the 
voice  of  the  ever-living  God,  which  he 
has  learnt  to  expect,  and  which  he  has 
always  heard,  wheresoever  the  writers 
have  indeed  been  insj)iied.  His  own 
diligence  may  be  the  same,  his  faith,  his 
pray(!rfiiliiess.  But  it  is  im[)ossible 
theie  sh<»uld  V)e  those  manifestations  of 
superhuman  wisdom,  those  invariable 
secpitMices  of  fulfilled  piomises  on  ol)ey- 
ed  pr(;cepts,  which,  in  the  other  case,  at- 
testcjd,  at  (!ach  step  of  his  progress,  that 
the  do<!ument  in  his  hands  was  a  reve- 
latioti  from  above. 

It  may  be  said  that  all  the  argument, 
which  he  can  thus  obtain,  must  be 
vague  and  inconclusive,  a  thing  of  ima- 
gi>ialir)n  rather  than  of  reason,  and 
therefore,  in  the  largest  sense,  liable  to 
erroi'.  liut  we  rejcticc,  on  the  contrary, 
in  believing  in  the  thniiMigh  suHiciency 
of  the  poor  man's  argument  for  the  in- 


spiration of  Scripture.  It  is  an  argu- 
ment to  his  own  conscience,  an  argu- 
ment to  his  own  heart.  It  is  the  argu- 
ment drawn  from  the  experienced  fact, 
that  the  Bible  and  the  soul,  with  he** 
multiplied  feelings  and  powers,  fit  into 
each  other  like  two  parts  of  a  compli- 
cated machine,  proving,  in  their  combi- 
nation, that  each  was  separately  the  woric 
of  the  same  <livine  artist.  And  you  may 
think  that  the  poor  man  may  be  mista- 
ken; but  he  feels  that  he  cannot  be  mis- 
taken. The  testimony  is  like  a  testi- 
mony to  his  senses ;  if  he  cannot 
transfer  it  to  another,  it  is  incontes- 
table to  himself,  and  therefore  gives  as 
much  fixedness  to  the  theolorry  of  the 
cottage  as  ever  belonged  to  the  theology 
of  the  academy. 

And    if  he   can    thus  ]>rovc,  from  his 
own  experience,  the  divine  origin  of  the 
inspired  book,  he  may  of  course  equally 
prove,    from    his    own    experience,   the 
human  origin  of  the  non-inspired.     The 
absence  of  certain  tokens  in  the  one  case, 
will   be   as   conclusive   to   him    as  their 
presence  in  the  other.     So  that,  we  may 
afhrm  of  all  classes  of  christicUis,  provid- 
ed only  they  be  sincere  and  piayerfulin 
their  inquiiy  after  truth,  that,  if  not  con- 
tent with  the  decision  of  the  church,  they 
may  ])ut  to  the   proof  what   they   have 
heard  in  the  city  of  our  God.      Let  them 
take  the  apocrypha,  and   let  them  study 
it  (m  the  supjx/siiion  that  its  books  are 
equally    inspired   with    those   to    which 
their  church  assigns  so  hifty  a  character. 
And  their  spirits  may  be  stirred   within 
them,   as    they  read   of  the   chivalrous 
deeds  of  the   Maccabean    princes,    and 
even  their  tears  may  be  drawn  forth,  as 
the  Book  of  AV^isdom    pours  its  elegiac 
poetry  over  those  who  die  young.     But 
tiiey   will  not   find  that  moral   ])robing, 
that  direction  of  the  heiirt,  that  profund- 
ity of  meaning   which   makes   a   single 
text  like  a  mine  from   which   new  trea- 
sures   may    contiminlly    be    dug,    tiiose 
flashes  of  truth    which    suddenly    issue 
from  what  had  long  seemed  dark  sayings. 
These  at)d  the  like  evidences   that   the 
living  God  is  in  the  book   will  be  wnnt- 
ing,  however  its  pages  may  be   printed 
with  heroic  story,  or  glowing  with  j)oetic 
fire.     Even  though  the  style  and  senti- 
ment may  be  similar  to  those   to   which 
they  have  been  used  in  holy  writ,  they 
will  not  experience  the  sam«;  elevation 
of  soul  as  when  tlujytiust  themselves  to 


•t     tTlMONY  CONFIRMED  BT  EXPERIENCE. 


23T 


the  soarings  <-.f  Isaiali,  the  same  svveep- 
ino-s  of  the  chords  of  the  heart  as  when 
they  j*»iii  in  the  hymns  of  David,  nor  the 
same  echo  of  the  conscience  as  when 
thev  listen  to  the  remonstrances  of  St. 
Peter  or  St.  Paid.  And  what  then  is  to 
prevent  their  Ijeing  iheir  own  witnesses 
to  the  non-inspiration  of  the  apociyphai, 
as  well  as  to  the  inspiration  of  the  canoni- 
cal Scriptures  ?  What  is  to  prevent 
their  bringing  their  own  experience  in 
confirmation  <»f  wliat  had  originally  been 
told  them  by  the  church,  and  thus  join- 
ing themselves  to  those  who  can  say, 
"  as  we  have  heard,  so  have  we  seen,  in 
the  city  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts  1  " 

Now  the  points  on  which  we  have  thus 
touched,  have  been  handled  at  great 
length,  and  with  consummate  ability,  by 
modern  writers.  And  we  have  dwelt 
on  them,  not  with  any  idea  of  adding  to 
the  strength  with  which  they  have  been 
asserte*!,  or  tlie  clearness  with  which 
they  have  been  illustrated  ;  but  simj)ly 
in  the  hoj)e  of  Hxing  the  attention  of  the 
younger  part  of  this  audience  on  what 
is  called  the  self-evidencing  power  of 
Scripture.  With  all  our  desire  that  they 
should  be  thoroughly  masters  of  the  ex- 
ternal evidences  of  Christianity,  we  are 
unspeakably  more  anxious  that  they 
should  labor  to  possess  themselves  of 
the  internal;  for,  in  searching  after  these, 
they  must  necessarily  study  the  Jiible 
itself.  If  they  will  learn  to  view  the 
contents  of  Scripture  as  themselves  its 
credent iais,  we  shall  ensrase  them  in  the 
most  ho|)eful  of  all  studies,  the  study  of 
God's  word  as  addressing  itself  to  the 
heart,  and  not  merely  to  the  head.  For 
there  m:iy  be  an  intellectual  theology ; 
religion  may  be  reduced  into  a  sciet^ce ; 
and  the  writers  on  the  evidences,  and 
the  commentators  on  the  text  of  the  Bi- 
ble, may  just  do  for  Christianity  what 
the  laboiious  and  the  learned  have  done 
for  varir)as  branches  of  natural  philoso- 
phy ;  t::  ike  truths  bright  rather  than 
sharp,  clear  to  the  understanding,  but 
witliout  hold  on  the  affections.  And 
this  is  not  the  Christianity  which  we  wish 
to  find  amongst  you,  the  Christianity  of 
the  iTiaii  who  can  defeat  a  sceptic,  and 
then  lose  his  soul.  We  would  have  you 
well-read — too  well-read  you  cannot  be 
— in  what  has  been  written  in  defence 
of  the  faith  ;  but,  above  all,  we  w«)uld 
fasten  you  to  the  ])rayerful  study  of  the 
sacred  volume  itself;  this  will  lead  you 


to  the  hearing  God's  voice  in  the  Bible, 
and,  until  that  is  heard,  the  best  champion 
of  truth  may  be  far  from  the  kingdom  of 
heaven. 

But  there  is  yet  a  more  obvious  ap- 
plication of  the  words   of  our  text,  one 
whidi,  though    it  may   have  suggest (jd 
itself  to  your  minds,  is  of  loo  practical  a 
kind    to   be    omitted    by   the    preacher. 
There  is  a  lel'erence  in  the  passage  to 
the    nnchangeableness    of  (iod,    to  the 
similarity  of  his  dealings  with  men,  when 
there  is  a  sitnilarity  of  circumstance.     It 
is  said  of  God  by  Solomon,  that  he  "  re- 
quireth  that   which  is  past."     He  seeks 
again  that  which  is  j)ast,  recalling,  as  it 
were,  the  proceedings,  whether  in  judg- 
ment or  mercy,  of  departed  ages,   and 
repeating  them  to  the  present  genera- 
tion.    And   it   is    on   this   account    that 
there  is  such  value  in  the  registered  ex- 
j)erience  of  the  believers  of  other  days, 
so  that  the  biography  of  the  righteous  ia 
among  the  best  treasures  possessed  by  a 
church.     It  is,  in  one  sense   at  least,  a 
vast  advantage  to  us  that  we  live  late  in 
the  world.      We  have  all  the  benefit  of 
the  spiritual  experience  of  many  centu- 
ries, which  has   been  bequeathed  to  us 
as  a  legacy  of  more    worth  than  large 
wealth    or    far-spreading    empire.     We 
have  not,  therefore,  to  tread  a   path  in 
which  we  have  had  but  few  precursors. 
Far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  the  road  we 
have  to  traverse  is  crowded  with  beckon- 
ing forms,  as  though  the  sepulchres  gave 
up  their  host  of  worthies,  that  we  might 
be  animated  by  the  view   of  the   victo- 
rious throng.     And  this  is  an  advantage 
which  it  is  haidly  pnssible  to  overrate. 
Vou   have    only  to  add   to   this   an   ac- 
quaintance  with   the   nnchangeableness 
of  God,  and  there  seems  all  that  can  be 
needed  to  the  encouragement  and  con- 
fidence of  the  righteous.     The  unchange- 
ableness  of  God  assures  us  that  he  will  do 
in  our  own  days,  as  he  has  done  in  ear- 
lier ;  the  registered  experience  of  former 
times  instructs  us  as  to  the  accurticy  with 
which   he  has  made  good  the    declara- 
tions   of  Scripture  ;   and  by   combining 
these  two,  the  assurance  and  the  instruc- 
tion, we  gain  a  witness,  which  nothing 
should  shake,    that,   with    the    Bible  for 
our  guide,  we  siiall  have  peace  for  our 
present  portion,  unbounded  gloi-y  for  our 
future. 

There  is  here  a  new  witness   for  tho 
Bible,  a  witness  accessible  to  the  mean 


238 


TESTIMONY  CONKIRMED  BY  EXFERIENCE. 


est,  the  witness  of  happy  lives  and 
triumphant  deaths.  The  very  })casant 
masters  and  rejoices  in  this  evidence. 
The  liistorics  of  g()i)d  men  find  their  way 
into  liis  hamlet;  and  even  in  the  village 
clyirch-yanl  sleep  some  whose  lighteous- 
ness  will  be  long  liad  in  remembrance. 
And  knowing,  as  he  docs,  that  those, 
whose  bright  names  thus  hallow  the  an- 
nals whether  of  his  country  or  his  valley, 
were  "  acceptable  to  God,  and  approved 
of  men,"  tlirough  simply  submitting 
themselves  to  the  guidance  of  Scripture  ; 
that  they  were  Jiible  precepts  which 
made  them  the  example  and  blessing  of 
their  fellows,  and  l>ible  promises  which 
nerved  them  for  victory  over  sorrow  and 
death — has  he  not  a  noble  evidence  on 
the  side  of  Scripture,  an  evidence  against 
which  the  taunts  of  scepticism  aie  di- 
rected without  effect,  an  evidence  which 
augments  with  every  piece  of  christian 
biography  that  comes  into  his  possession, 
and  with  every  instance  of  christian  con- 
sistency that  comes  under  his  observa- 
tion 1 

And  what  he  thus  hears  in  the  city  of 
God,  acts,  on  every  account,  as  a  stim- 
ulus to  his  own  faith  and  steadfastness. 
The  registered  experience  of  those  who 
have  gone  befjre,  encourages  him  to  ex- 
pect the  same  mercies  from  the  same 
God.  He  kindles  as  he  reads  their  story. 
Their  memory  rouses  him.  He  asks  the 
mantle  ot  the  ascending  prophet,  that  he 
may  divide  with  it  the  waters  which 
had  before  owned  its  power.  Thus 
wiiat  he  has  lieard  in  the  city  of  his  God 
coiitiims  his  diligence  and  animates  his 
ho])e.  lie  takes  the  experience  of  (jthers, 
and  proceeds  upon  the  supposition  that 
it  may  be  made  his  own.  And  it  is 
nade  his  own.  Through  faith  the  same 
vonders  are  wrought.  Through  prayer 
ihe  same  mercies  are  obtained.  The 
'ame  promises  are  accomplished,  the 
ame  assistances  communicated,  the 
same  victories  achieved.  And  as  the 
man  reniombeis  how  his  spirit  glowed  at 
the  mentidii  of  noble  things  done  on  be- 
half of  the  righteous  ;  how  the  records 
of  gi»od  men's  lives  soothed  him,  and 
cheered  him  andt;\cited  him;  how  their 
prayers  taught  him  to  be  a  suppliant,  and 
their  praises  moved  him  to  be  hopeful  ; 
how  they  se»;med  to  have  lived  fitr  his 
instruction,  and  died  for  his  comfort — 
and  then  as  he  feels,  how  through  tread- 
ing the  same  path,  and  trusting  in  tlic 


same  Mediator,  he  has  already  obtained 
a  measure,  and  may  expect  a  yet  larger, 
of  the  blessings  wherewith  they  were 
blessed  of  their  God — oh,  his  language 
will  be  that  of  our  text  ;  and  he  will 
join,  heart  and  soul,  with  those  who  arc 
confessing,  "  as  we  have  heard,  so  have 
we  seen,  in  the  city  of  our  God." 

There  will  be  a  yet  finer  use  of  these 
words  :  they  shall  be  woven  into  a  no- 
bler than  the  noblest  earthly  chant.  Are 
we  deceiving  men,  are  we  merely  sketch- 
in(T  ideal  pictures,  to  whose  beauty  and 
brilliancy  there  is  nothing  correspondent 
in  future  realities,  when  we  expatiate  on 
the  glories  of  heaven,  and  task  imagina- 
tion to  build  its  palaces,  and  jiortray  its 
inhal)itants  ]  Yes,  in  one  sense  we  de- 
ceive them  :  they  are  but  ideal  pictures 
which  we  draw.  What  human  pencil 
can  delineate  scenes  in  which  God  man- 
ifests his  presence  1  What  human 
coloring  emulate  the  effulgence  which 
issues  from  his  throne  ?  liut  we  deceive 
them  only  through  inability  to  rise 
sufficiently  high  ;  we  exhaust  imagina- 
tion, but  not  the  thousandth  part  is  told. 
They  are  deceived,  only  if  they  think  we 
tell  them  all,  if  they  take  the  pictures 
which  we  draw  as  perfect  representationa 
of  the  majesty  of  the  future. 

When  we  speak  to  them  of  the  deep 
and  permanent  repose  of  heaven  ;  when 
we  enlarge  on  the  manifestations  of 
Deity  ;  when  we  declare  that  Christ,  as 
"  the  Minister  of  tlie  Sanctuary,"  will 
unfold  tf)  his  church  the  mysteries  which 
have  perplexed  them  ;  when  we  gather 
to<fether  what  is  gorgeous,  and  precious, 
and  beautiful,  in  the  visible  creation,  and 
crowd  it  into  the  imagery  wherewith 
we  delineate  the  final  home  of  the  saints  ; 
when  we  take  the  sun  from  the  iirma- 
ment,  that  the  Lord  God  may  shine 
there,  and  remove  all  temples  from  the 
city,  that  the  Almighty  may  be  its 
Sanctuary,  and  hush  all  human  minstrel- 
sy, that  tlie  immense  tide  of  song  may 
roll  from  thousand  times  ten  thousand 
voices — we  sj)eak  only  the  words  of 
truth  and  soberness,  though  we  have  not 
compassed  the  greatness,  nor  dejiicted 
the  loveliness,  of  the  portion  which 
awaits  the  disciples  of  Ciirist.  If  there 
be  one  passage  of  Scri|iture  which  wo 
venture  to  put  into  the  lips  of  redeemed 
men  in  glory,  it  is  our  text  ;  in  this  in- 
stance, vve  may  be  confident  tha*  the 
chaii'^o    fiom   earth   to   heaven    will  nol 


TESTIMONY  CONFIRMED   RY  EXPERIENCE. 


239 


Uave  mado  the  language  of  the  one  un- 
suited  to  the  other.  ()li,  as  the  sliining 
company  take  the  ciiciiit  of  the  celestial 
city  ;  as  they  "  walk  about  Zion,  and  go 
round  about  her,"  telling  the  towers 
thereof,  marking  well  her  bulwarks,  and 
c<inj,idering  her  palaces  ;  who  can  doubt 
that  they  say  one  to  another,  "  as  we 
have  heard,  so  have  we  seen  in  the  city 
of  our  God?"  We  heard  that  here 
•'  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,"  and 
now  we  behold  the  deep  rich  calm.  We 
heard  that  here  we  should  be  with  the 
Lord,  and  inKV  wo  see  him  face  to  face. 
We  heard  that  here  we  should  know, 
and  now  the  ample  page  of  universal 
r.ruth  is  open  to  our  inspection.  We 
heard  that  here,  with  the  crown  on  the 
head,  and  the  harp  in  the  hand,  we 
should  execute  the  will,  and  hymn  the 
praises,  of  our  God,  and  now  we  wear 
the  diadem,  and  wake  the  melody.  They 
can  take  to  themselves  the  words  which 
the  dying  leader  Joshua  used  of  the 
Israelites,  "not  one  thing  hath  failed  of 
all  the  good  things  which  tlie  Lord  our 
(iud  spake  concerning  us  ;  all  are  come 
to  pass,  and  not  one  thing  hath  failed 
thereof." 

Shall  it  be  said  of  any  amongst  our- 
selves, that  they  heard  of  heaven,  but 
made  no  effort  to  behold  it  ]  Is  there 
one  who  can  be  indifferent  ro  the  an- 
nouncement of  its  glories,  one  who  can 
feel  utterly  careless  whether  he  ever 
prove  i\)V  himself,  that  there  has  been 
no  deceit,  no  exaggeration,  but  that  it  is 
indeed  a  surpassingly  fair  land  which  is 
to  be  everlastingly  the  home  «)f  those 
who  believe  in  the  IJodeemerl  EverlaAt 


ingly  the  home — for  we  must  not  over- 
look  the  concluding  words   of  our  text, 
"God  will  cstablisli  it  for  ever."     The 
walls  of  that  city  shall  never  decay;  the 
lustres  of  that  city  shall  never  grow  dim  ; 
the  melodies  of  that  city  shall   never  i)e 
hushed.     And  is  it  of  a  city  such  as  this 
that  any   one  of  us    can   be   indifferent 
whether  or  no  he  be  finally  an  inhabi- 
tant ?      We  will  not  believe  it.     The  old 
and  the  young,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  all 
must  be  ready  to  bind   themselves  by  a 
solemn  vow,  that  they  will  "  seek  first 
the  kinijdom  of  God,  and  his  riiihteous- 
ness."     It  is  not  the  voice  of  a  solitary 
and  weak  fellow-man   which  now  tells 
you  of  heaven.     God  is  summoning  you. 
Angels  aresummoningyou.  The  myriads 
who  have  gone  before  are  summoning 
you.     We  are  surrounded  by  a  "  great 
cloud  of  witnesses."      The  battlements 
of  the  sky  seem  thronged  with  those  who 
have    fouirht    the    jjood    fi<rht    af    faith. 
They   bend   down    from   the  eminence, 
and    bid    ns    ascend,    through    the    one 
Mediator,   to  the    same   lofty   dwelling. 
They  shall  not  call  in  vain.     We  know 
I  heir  voices,  as  they  sweep  by  us  solemn- 
ly and  sweetly.     And  we  think,  and  we 
trust,  that  there  will  not  be  one  of  you 
who    will    leave  the   sanctuary   without 
some  such  reflection  and  prayer  as  this 
— I  have  heard  of  heaven,  I  have  been 
told  of  its  splendors  and   of  its  happi- 
ness ;  grant,  gracious  and  eternal  Father 
that  I    fail  not   at  last  to  be  associated 
with  those  who  shall  rejoicingly  exclaim, 
"  as  we  have  heard,  so  have  we  seen,  in 
the  city  of  the  Lord  «jf  Plosts.' 


SERMON    IV. 


THE  GENERAL  RESURRECTION  AND  JUDGMENT. 


••  Marvrl  not  nt  this ;  for  the  hour  is  comin*  in  which  all  that  are  in  the  jrravos  shall  hear  his  voice, 
forth  :  tiiev  that  have  done  pood  unto  the  rcsurrectiou  of  life,  and  they  that  have  done  evil  unto  t 
of  damnation."— St.  John,  v.   !i?,  "3. 


and  i-hall  com* 
the  resurrcctioc 


You  will  at  once  perceive  that  these 
words  of  our  Savior  arc  not  to  he  under- 
Btood  without  a  reference  to  those  by 
whicii  they  are  preceded.  They  show 
that  surprise  was  both  felt  and  express- 
ed at  something  which  he  had  just  said  ; 
for  they  are  a  direction  to  his  audience 
not  to  marvel,  or  wonder,  at  what  he 
had  aihrrned,  seeing  that  he  had  to  state 
what  was  yet  more  astonishing.  If  you 
examine  the  context  of  tlie  passage,  you 
will  find  that  our  Lord  had  been  speak- 
ino-  of  the  effects  wliich  should  follow 
upon  belief  of  his  word,  and  that  he  had 
used  language  in  regard  of  those  effects, 
wliicli  borrowed  its  imagery  from  death 
and  a  resurrection.  This  surprised  and 
displeased  his  hearers.  They  could  not 
understand  how  the  word  of  Christ  could 
possess  such  a  power  as  he  had  claimed  ; 
and  they  perhaps  even  doubted  whether 
the  new  creation  of  which  he  spake,  the 
quickening  of  souls  "  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins,"  ever  took  place. 

It  was  to  meet  these  feelings,  v/hich 
he  perceived  stirring  in  their  minds,  that 
Christ  proceeded  to  address  them  in  th^? 
wonls  of  our  text.  "  Marvel  not  at 
this."  As  though  he  had  said,  you  are 
staggered  at  what  I  have  declared, 
fancying  it  incredible,  or,  at  least,  far 
beyond  my  power.  But  I  have  a  yet 
more  wonderful  thing  of  which  to  tell 
you,  a  thini^  that  shall  be  done  by  my- 
self, though  retjuiring  still  greater  might. 
You  are  amazed  that  I  should  speak  of 
raising  those  wlio  aie  morally  dead;  but 
"  marvel  not  at  this  ;  for  the  hour  is 
coming,  in  which  all  that  are  in  the  graves 
flliall  hear  my  voice." 

This  a])pears  to  us  the  true  account 


of  our  Lord's  reasoning.  The  resurrec- 
tion of  the  body,  the  calling  from  th« 
graves  those  who  had  long  slumbered 
therein,  is  represented  as  a  raoie  woii 
derful  thing  than  what  had  just  excited 
the  amazement  of  the  Jews.  And  thus 
the  passage  sets,  as  we  think,  the  resui» 
rection  of  the  body  under  a  most  im- 
posing point  of  view,  making  it  the 
great  prodigy  in  God's  dealings  with  our 
race.  That  there  is  nothing  else  to 
marvel  at,  in  comparison  of  the  resur- 
rection of  the  dead — this  seems  to  us 
the  assertion  of  Christ,  and  such  asser- 
tion demaiuls  a  most  careful  considera- 
tion. Of  course,  independently  on  this 
assertion,  there  is  a  great  deal  in  the 
passage  which  affords  material  for  pro- 
fitable meditation,  seeing  that  the  whole 
business  of  the  last  audit  is  summarily, 
Init  strikingly  described.  The  remark- 
able feature,  however,  of  the  text  is  un- 
d»)ubtedly  that  of  its  making  the  resur- 
rection of  the  body  the  first  of  all  mar- 
vels ;  and  it  is,  therefore,  to  the  illustra- 
tion of  this  that  we  shall  give  our  cliief 
care,  thou<rh  not  to  the  exclusion  of  the 
more  general  truths  affirmed  by  our 
Lord. 

Now  we  are  accustomed  to  think,  and, 
doubtless,  with  justice,  that  there  is  an 
affinity  between  CJod  and  our  souls,  but 
nothing  of  the  kind  between  God  and 
our  bodies.  We  do  not  indeed  presume 
to  speak  of  the  human  soul,  any  more 
than  of  the  human  body,  as  having  con- 
geniality, or  sameness  of  nature,  with 
the  great  first  cause,  the  self-existent 
Deity.  But  we  may  venture  to  declare 
that  aH  the  separation  which  there  is  be- 
tween the  soul  and  the  body,  is  an  ad- 


THE  GENERAL  RESURRECTION  AND  JUDGMENT. 


241 


vance  towards  the  nature  of  God,  so 
that  the  soul,  inaHmuch  as  it  is  spiritual, 
fjir  more  nearly  resembles  the  divine 
iieing  than  the  body,  inasmuch  as  it  is 
material. 

And  when  we  reach  tliis  conclusion, 
we  are  at  a  point  from  which  to  view 
with  great  amajcement  the  resurrection 
of  the  body.  So  long  as  a  divine  inter- 
ference is  limited  to  the  soul,  we  may 
be  said  to  be  prepared,  at  least  in  a  de- 
gree, for  whatever  can  be  told  us  of  its 
greatness  and  disinterestedness.  We 
attach  a  dignity  to  the  soul,  which  though 
it  could  not,  after  there  had  l^een  sin, 
establish  any  claim  to  the  succors  of  God, 
seems  to  make  it,  if  not  to  be  expected, 
yet  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  it  was 
not  abandoned  to  degradation  and  ruin. 
The  soul  is  so  much  more  nearly  of  the 
same  nature  with  God  than  the  body, 
that  a  spiritual  resurrection  appears  a 
thousandfold  more  likely  than  a  coi'po- 
reah  And  you  are  to  observe  that  there 
is  notliing  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  to 
make  it  clear  to  us,  that,  if  the  soul  were 
redeemed,  so  also  must  be  the  body. 
The  ordinary  current  of  thought  and 
feeling  may  almost  be  said  to  be  against 
the  redemption  of  the  body.  The  body 
is  felt  to  be  an  incumbrance  to  the  soul, 
hindering  it  in  its  noblest  occupations, 
and  contribuiinuf  nothin<x  to  its  most  ele- 
vated  pleasure.  So  far  from  the  soul 
being  incapable  of  happiness,  if  detached 
from  the  body,  it  is  actually  its  union  with 
the  body  which,  to  all  appearance, 
detains  it  from  happiness  ;  so  that,  in  its 
finest  and  loftiest  musings,  its  exclama- 
tion often  is,  "  O  that  I  had  wings  like  a 
dove,  for  then  would  I  flee  away  and  be 
at  rest !"  Even  now  the  soul  is  often 
able  to  rise  above  the  body,  to  detach 
itself,  for  a  while,  from  matter,  and  to 
Boar  into  regions  which  it  feels  to  be 
more  its  home  than  this  earth.  And 
when  compelled  to  return  from  so  splen- 
did an  excursion,  there  is  a  sentimeTit 
of  regret  that  it  must  still  tabernacle  in 
flesh  ;  and  it  is  conscious  of  longing  for 
a  day  when  it  may  finally  abandon  its 
perishable  dwelling. 

Thus  there  is  nothing  of  a  felt  neces- 
sity for  the  re-union  of  the  soul  to  the 
body,  to  guide  us  in  expecting  the  cor- 
poreal as  well  as  the  spiritual  resurrec- 
tion. We  might  almost  affirm  that  the 
feeling  is  all  the  other  way.  And 
though,  through  some  fine  workings  of 


reason,  or,  through  attention  to  lingering 
traces  of  patriarchal  religion,  men,  des- 
titute of  the  light  of  revelation,  have 
reached  a  persuasion  of  the  soul's  im- 
mortality, never  have  they  formed  even 
a  conjecture  of  the  body's  resurrectiun. 
They  have  imaged  to  themselves  the 
spirit,  which  they  felt  burning  and  beat- 
ing within  them,  emancipated  from 
thraldom,  and  admitted  into  a  new  and 
eternal  estate.  But  they  have  consign- 
ed the  body  to  the  interminable  dishonors 
of  the  grave  ;  and  never,  in  the  boldest 
imaginings,  whether  of  their  ])hilosophy 
or  their  poetry,  have  they  tlirovvn  life 
into  the  ashes  of  the  sepulchre.  It  is 
almost  the  voice  of  nature,  that  the  soul 
survives  death  :  the  soul  gives  its  own 
testimony,  and  often  so  impi-essively, 
that  a  man  could  as  easily  doubt  his  pre- 
sent as  his  future  existence.  But  there 
is  no  such  voice  put  forth  in  regard  of 
the  body  :  no  solemn  and  mysterious 
whisperings  are  heard  from  its  resting- 
place,  the  echo  of  a  truth  which  seems 
syllabled  within  us,  that  bone  shall  come 
again  to  bone,  and  sinews  bind  them, 
and  skin  cover  them,  and  breath  stir 
them. 

And  we  may  safely  argue,  that,  if  the 
immortality  of  the  soul  be  an  article  of 
natural  theology,  but  the  resurrection 
of  the  body  were  never  even  thought  of 
by  the  most  profound  of  its  disciples, 
there  can  be  no  feeling  in  man  that  the 
matter,  as  well  as  the  spirit,  of  which 
he  is  composed,  must  reappear  in  an- 
other state  of  being,  in  order  either  to  the 
possibility  or  the  felicity  of  his  existence. 
So  that — for  this  is  the  point  to  which 
our  remarks  tend — we  may  declare  of 
the  resurrection  of  the  body,  that  it  is 
altogether  an  unexpected  fact,  one  which 
no  exercise  of  reason  could  have  led  us 
to  conjecture,  and  for  which  thei-e  is  not 
even  that  natural  longing  which  might 
be  interpreted  into  an  argument  of  its 
probability.  It  is  not  then  when  God 
interposes  on  behalf  of  the  soul,  it  is 
when  he  interposes  on  behalf  of  the 
body,  that  the  great  cause  is  given  for 
amazement.  A  spark,  one  might  almost 
call  it,  of  himself,  an  emanation  from  his 
own  immortality,  mighty  in  its  powei-s, 
mysterious  in  its  wanderings,  sublime  in 
its  anticipations,  we  scarcely  wonder  that 
a  spiritual  thing  like  the  soul  should  en- 
gage the  carefulness  of  its  Maker,  and 
that,  if  it  sully  its  brightness,  and  mar 
31 


243 


THE  GENERAL  RESURRECTION  AND  JUDGMENT. 


its  strength,  he  should  provide  for  its 
final  recovery.  But  the  body — matter, 
which  is  man's  link  of  association  with 
the  lowest  of  the  brutes,  and  which  na- 
tural and  revealed  theology  are  alike 
earnest  in  removing  to  the  farthest  pos- 
Bihle  distance  from  the  divine  nature — 
the  body,  whose  members  are  "  the 
instruments  of  uin-ightcousness,"  whose 
•wants  make  our  feebleneness,  whose 
lusts  are  our  tempters,  whose  infirmities 
our  torment — that  this  ignoble  and  de- 
caying thing  should  be  cared  for  by  God, 
who  is  inett'ably  more  spiritual  than 
spirit,  so  that  he  designs  its  re-appear- 
ance in  his  own  immediate  presence, 
what  is  comparable  in  its  wonderfulness 
to  this  1  Prodigy  of  prodigies,  that  this 
corruptible  should  put  on  incorruption, 
this  mortal  immortality.  And  scribes 
and  pharisees  might  have  listened  with 
amazement,  and  even  with  incredulity, 
as  the  Lord  our  Redeemer  affirmed  the 
effects  which  would  be  wrought  on  the 
soul  through  the  doctrines  and  deeds  of 
his  mission.  But  he  had  stranger  things 
to  tell  ,•  for  he  had  to  speak  of  the  body 
as  well  as  of  the  soul,  rising  from  its  ru- 
ins, and  gloriously  reconstructed.  Yes, 
observing  how  his  hearers  were  surpri- 
sed, because  lie  had  spoken  of  the  spi- 
ritually dead  as  quickened  by  his  word, 
he  might  well  say  unto  them,  "  marvel 
not  at  this,"  and  give  as  his  reason, 
"  for  the  hour  is  coming,  in  which  all 
that  are  in  the  graves  shall  hear  my 
voice." 

Now,  throughout  this  examination  of 
the  truth,  that  the  resurrection  of  the 
body  furnishes,  in  an  extraordinary  de- 
gree, cause  of  wonder  and  surprise,  we 
have  made  no  reference  to  the  display 
of  divine  power  which  this  resurrection 
must  present.  We  have  simply  enlarg- 
ed on  what  may  be  called  the  unexpect- 
edness of  the  event,  proving  this  unex- 
pectedness from  the  inferiority  of  matter, 
its  utter  want  of  alllnity  to  Deity,  and 
the  feelings  of  even  man  himself  in  re- 
gard to  its  detracting  from  his  dignity 
end  happiness. 

But  we  do  not  know,  that,  in  the 
whole  range  of  things  effected  by  God, 
there  is  aught  so  surprising,  regard 
beincr  had  only  to  the  power  displayed, 
as  the  resurrection  of  the  body.  If  you 
will  ponder,  for  a  few  moments,  the 
facts  of  a  resurrection,  you  will  probably 
allow  that  the  power  which  must  be  ex- 


erted in  order  to  the  final  reconstruction 
of  every  man's  body,  is  more  signal  than 
that  displayed  in  any  spiritual  renova- 
tion or  in  any  of  those  operations  which 
we  are  able  to  trace  in  the  visible  uni- 
verse. You  are  just  to  think  that  this 
framework  of  flesh,  in  which  my  soul  is 
now  enclosed,  will  be  reduced  at  death 
to  the  dust  from  which  it  was  taken.  I 
cannot  tell  where  or  what  will  be  my 
sepulchre — whether  I  shall  sleep  in  one 
of  the  quiet  churchyards  of  my  own  land, 
or  be  exposed  on  some  foreign  shore,  or 
fall  a  prey  to  the  beasts  of  the  desert,  or 
seek  a  tomb  in  the  depths  of  the  un- 
fathomable waters.  But  an  irreversible 
sentence  has  gone  forth — "  dust  thou. art, 
and  unto  dust  thou  shalt  return" — and 
assuredly,  ere  many  years,  and  perhaps 
even  ere  many  days  have  elapsed,  must 
my  "  earthly  hoilse  of  this  tabernacle  be 
dissolved,"  rafter  from  rafter,  beam  from 
beam,  and  the  particles,  of  which  it  has 
been  curiously  compounded,  be  separat- 
ed from  each  other,  and  perhaps  scatter- 
ed to  the  four  winds  of  heaven.  And 
who  will  pretend  to  trace  the  wander- 
ings of  these  particles,  into  what  other 
substances  they  may  enter,  of  what  other 
bodies  they  may  form  part,  so  as  to  ap- 
pear and  disappear  many  times  in  living 
shape  before  the  dawn  of  the  great  Piaster 
of  the  universe  1  There  is  manifestly  the 
most  thorough  possibility,  that  the  ele- 
ments of  which  my  body  is  composed,  may 
have  belonged  to  the  bone  and  flesh  of 
successive  generations ;  and  that,  when 
I  shall  have  passed  away  and  be  forgot- 
ten, they  will  be  again  wrought  into  the 
structure  of  animated  beings. 

And  when  you  think  that  my  body, 
at  the  resurrection,  must  have  at  least 
so  much  of  its  original  matter,  as  shall 
be  necessary  for  the  preservation  of 
identity,  for  the  making  me  know  and 
feel  myself  the  very  same  being  who 
sinned,  and  sufiered,  and  was  disciplin- 
ed on  earth,  you  must  allow  that  nothing 
short  of  infinite  knowledge  and  p(nver 
could  prevail  to  the  watching,  and  dis- 
entangling, and  keeping  duly  se])arate, 
whatever  is  to  bo  again  builded  into  a 
habitation  for  my  spirit,  60  that  it  may 
be  brought  together  from  the  four  ends 
of  the  earth,  detached  from  other  crea- 
tures, or  extracted  from  othersubstances. 
This  would  be  indeed  a  wonderful  thing, 
if  it  were  true  of  none  but  myself,  if  it 
were  only  in  my  solitary  case  thatacer- 


THE  GENERAL  RESURRECTION  AND  JUDGMENT. 


243 


lain  portion  of  matter  had  thus  to  be 
watched,  kept  distinct  though  mingled, 
and  appropriated  to  myself  whilst  be- 
longing to  others.  But  try  to  suppose 
the  same  holding  good  of  every  human 
being,  of  Adam,  and  each  member  of  his 
countless  posterity,  and  see  whether  the 
resurrection  will  not  utterly  confound 
and  overburden  the  mind.  To  every  in- 
dividual in  the  interminable  throng  shall 
his  own  body  be  given,  a  body  so  literal- 
ly his  own,  that  it  shall  be  made  up,  to 
at  least  a  certain  extent,  of  the  matter 
which  composed  it  whilst  he  dwelt  on 
this  earth.  And  yet  this  matter  may 
have  passed  through  iimumerable  chan- 
ges. It  may  have  circulated  through 
the  living  tribes  of  many  generations  ; 
or  it  may  have  been  waving  in  the  trees 
of  the  forest;  or  it  may  have  floated  on 
the  wide  waters  of  the  deep.  But  there 
has  been  an  eye  upon  it  in  all  its  appro- 
priations, and  in  all  its  transformations  ; 
so  that,  just  as  though  it  had  been  in- 
delibly stamped,  from  the  first,  with  the 
name  of  the  human  being  to  whom  it 
should  finally  belong,  it  has  been  unerr- 
ingly reserved  for  the  great  day  of  re- 
surrection. Thus  myriads  upon  myri- 
ads of  atoms — for  you  may  count  up  till 
imagination  is  wearied,  and  then  reckon 
that  you  have  but  one  unit  of  the  still 
inapproachable  sum — myriads  upon  my- 
riads of  atoms,  the  dust  of  kingdoms,  the 
ashes  of  all  that  have  lived,  are  perpet- 
ually jostled,  and  mingled,  and  separated, 
and  animated,  and  swept  away,  and  re- 
produced, and,  nevertheless,  not  a  soli- 
tary particle  but  holds  itself  ready,  at 
the  sound  of  the  last  trump,  to  combine 
itself  with  a  multitude  of  others,  in  a 
human  body  in  which  they  once  met 
perhaps  a  thousand  years  before. 

We  frankly  own  that  this  appears  to 
us  among  the  most  inscrutable  of  won- 
ders. That  God  should  have  produced 
countless  worlds,  and  that  he  should 
marshal  all  their  motions,  as  they  walk 
the  immensity  of  his  empire — it  is  an 
amazing  contemplation  ;  and  the  mind 
cannot  compass  the  greatness  of  a  pow- 
er which  had  only  to  speak  and  it  was 
done,  and  which  hath  ever  since  upheld 
its  own  magnificent  creation,  in  all  the 
grandeur  of  its  structures,  and  in  all  the 
harmony  of  its  relations.  But,  with  all 
its  majesty,  there  is  a  simplicity  in  the 
mechanism  of  systems  and  constella- 
tions ;  every  star  has  its  place  and  its 


orbit ;  and  we  see  no  traces  of  a  compli- 
cation, or  confusion,  which  might  rendei 
necessary  unwearied  and  infinite  watch 
fulness,  in  order  to  the  preventing  uni 
versal  disorder.  And  it  is  again  a  sur- 
prising truth,  that  the  Spirit  of  God 
should  act  on  the  human  soul  ;  that, 
secretly  and  silently,  it  should  renovate 
its  decayed  powers,  refine  its  affections, 
and  awaken  the  dormant  immortality. 
Yet  even  here  we  may  speak  of  simpli- 
city— each  soul,  like  each  star,  has  its 
own  sphere  of  motion ;  each  is  distinct 
from  each  ;  and  none  has  ever  to  be  dis- 
solved, and  mingled,  like  the  body,  with 
the  elenr.ents  of  a  million  others. 

It  still  then  remains  a  kind  of  marvel 
amonirst   marvels,    that   there  hath  not 
died  the  man  who  shall  not  live  again, 
live  again  in  that  identical  body  which 
his    spirit   abandoned  when  summoned 
back  to  God.     And  upon  this  account, 
upon  account  of  the  apparently  vaster 
power  displayed  in  a  resurrection,  may 
we  suppose  that  Christ  bade  his  hearers 
withhold  their   amazement  at  what  he 
had  advanced.     Yes,  and  we  feel  that 
he  might   have  spoken   of  every  other 
portion  of  God's  dealings  with  our  race, 
and  without  deprecating  the  wonderful- 
ness  of  other  things,  have  declared,  at 
each  step,  that  he  had  stranger  truths  in 
store.     He  might  have  spoken  of  crea- 
tion ;  and,  whilst  an  audience  were  con- 
founded at  the  story  of  animate  and  in- 
animate   things    starting    suddenly  into 
being,    he  might  have   added,  "  marvel 
not  at  this."     He  might  have  spoken,  as 
he  did  speak,  of  a  spiritual  regeneration 
pervading  large  masses  of  the  family  of 
man ;  and,  whilst  those  who  heard  him 
were  looking  surprised  and  incredulous, 
he  might  have   added,  as    he    did    add, 
"  marvel  not   at  this."     For  he  had  to 
speak  of  a  rifling  of  the  sepulchres,  of 
the    re- animating   the   dust    of   buried 
generations.     And  this  was  to  speak  of 
earth,  and  sea,  and  air,  resolving  them- 
selves suddenly  into  the  flesh  and  sinew 
of  human  kind.     This  was  to  speak  of 
countless  particles,  some  from  the  east 
and  others  from  the  west,  these  from  the 
north  and  those  from  the  south,  moved 
by  mysterious   impulse   and  combining 
into  the    limbs  of  patriarchs,  and    pro- 
phets, and  priests,  and  kings,  and  people. 
This  was  to  speak  of  the  re-appearance 
of  every  humanbeing  that  ever  moved 
on  the  face  of  the  earth — the  oW  man  who 


eu 


THE  GENERAL  RESURRECTION  AND  JUDGMENT. 


sunk  beneath  tlie  burden  of  years,  and 
the  young  man  wlio  ])erished  in  his 
prime,  and  the  infant  wiio  jusl  opened 
his  eyes  on  a  sinful  and  sad  world, 
and  then  closed  lliem  as  though  ter- 
rified— all  reproduced,  though  all  had 
been  dispersed  like  chati"  belbre  the 
hurricane,  all  receiving  their  original 
elements,  though  those  elements  had 
been  the  play-things  of  the  winds,  and 
the  fuel  lor  the  Hames,  and  the  foam 
upon  the  waters.  And  if  this  were  in- 
deed the  speaking  of  a  general  resurrec- 
tion, oh,  then  our  Lord  might  have  al- 
ready been  aifirming  what  was  wonder- 
ful ;  but,  whatsoever  that  had  been,  he 
might  have  gone  on  to  repress  the 
astonishment  of  his  hearers,  saying  unto 
them,  "  marvel  not  at  this,"  and  giving 
as  his  reason,  "  for  the  hour  is  coming, 
in  which  all  that  are  in  tlie  graves  shall 
bear  my  voice." 

Now  we  have  probably  advanced 
enough  in  explanation  of  what  perhaps 
at  first  seems  hardly  to  have  been  ex- 
pected, namely,  that  our  Lord  should  re- 
present other  wonders,  even  that  of  the 
spiritually  passing  from  death  unto  life, 
as  not  to  be  wondered  at,  in  comparison 
with  the  resurrection  of  the  body.  We 
proceed,  therefore,  to  the  examining 
what  Christ  asserts  in  regaj'd  of  those 
sublime  transactions  which  will  be  as- 
sociated with  this  surpassingly  sti-ange 
event. 

"  The  hour  is  coming,"  More  than 
eighteen  hundred  years  have  elapsed, 
since  he  who  spake  as "  never  man 
spake,"  and  who  could  utter  nothing  but 
truth,  made  this  assertion,  an  assertion 
which  implied  that  the  hour  was  at  hand. 
But  the  dead  are  yet  in  their  graves  ; 
no  vivifying  voice  has  been  heard  in  the 
eepulclires.  We  know  however  that 
"  a  thousand  years  are  with  the  Lord  as 
one  day,  and  one  day  as  a  thousand 
years."  We  count  it  not  therefore 
strange  that  the  predicted  hour,  the 
hour  so  full  of  mystery  and  might, 
has  not  yet  arrived.  But  it  must  come  ; 
it  may  not  perhaps  be  distant ;  and  there 
may  be  s(jme  of  us,  for  aught  we  can  tell, 
who  shall  be  alive  on  the  earth  when  the 
voice  issues  forth,  the  voice  which  shall 
be  echoed  from  the  sea,  and  the  city,  and 
the  mountain,  and  the  desert,  all  creation 
hearkening,  and  all  that  hath  ever  lived 
simultaneously  responding.  But  whe- 
ther we  be  ot  the  cjuick  or  of  the  dead, 


on  the  morning  of  the  resurrection,  wo 
must  hear  the  voice,  and  join  ourselves 
to  the  swarming  throng  which  presses 
forward  to  judgment.  And  whose  is  the 
voice  tliat  is  tluis  irresistible,  which  is 
heard  even  in  the  graves  of  the  earth, 
and  in  the  caverns  of  the  deep,  and 
which  is  heard  only  to  be  obeyed  1 
Know  ye  not  that  voice  1  Ye  have 
iieard  it  before.  It  is  the  voice  which 
said,  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  are 
weary  and  heavy  laden,  and  1  will  give 
you  rest."  It  is  the  voice  which  prayed 
on  behalf  of  murderers,  "Father,  forgive 
them,  they  know  not  what  they  do."  It 
is  the  voice  which  said,  "  It  is  finished," 
pronouncing  the  completion  of  the  work 
of  human  redemption.  Yes,  ye  have 
heard  that  voice  before.  Ye  have  heard 
it  in  the  ministrations  of  the  Gospel. 
It  hath  called  to  you,  it  hath  pleaded 
with  you.  And  those  who  have  listen- 
ed to  it  in  life,  and  who  have  obeyed  it 
when  it  summoned  them  to  take  up  the 
cross,  to  them  it  will  be  a  mighty  com- 
fort, that,  in  the  voice  which  is  shaking 
the  universe,  and  wakening  the  dead, 
they  recognize  the  tones  of  Him  who 
could  be  "  touched  with  a  feeling  of  theii 
infirmities." 

For  it  is,  we  think,  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  of  the  arrangements  which 
characterize  the  Gospel,  that  the  offices 
of  Redeemer  and  Judge  meet  in  the 
same  person,  and  that  person  divine. 
We  call  it  a  beautiful  arrangement, 
because  securing  for  us  tenderness 
as  well  as  equity,  the  sympathies  of  a 
friend,  as  well  as  the  disinterestedness 
of  a  most  righteous  arbiter.  Had  the 
judge  been  only  man,  the  imperfection 
of  his  nature  would  have  made  us  e.xpect 
much  of  error  in  his  verdicts.  Had  he 
been  only  God,  the  distance  between 
him  and  us  would  have  made  us  fear  it 
impossible,  that,  in  determining  our  lot, 
he  would  take  into  account  our  feeble- 
ness and  trials.  But  in  the  person  of 
Chiist  there  is  that  marvellous  combina- 
tion which  we  seek  in  the  .Judge  of  the 
whole  human  race.  He  is  God,  and, 
therefore,  must  he  know  every  parti- 
cular of  character.  But  he  is  also  man, 
and,  therefore,  can  ho  put  himself  into 
the  position  of  those  who  are  brought  to 
his  bar.  And  because  the  .Judge  is  thus 
the  Mediator,  the  judgment-seat  can  be 
approached  with  conlideiice  and  glad- 
ness.   The  believer  in  Christ,  who  he  ark- 


THE  GENERAL  RESURRECTION  AND  JUDGMENT. 


245 


cned  to  the  suggestions  of  Goti's  S}>irit, 
and  hiakc  away  from  the  trammels  of 
sin,  sliall  know  the  Son  of  man,  as  lie 
comes  clown  in  the  magnificent  stern- 
ness of  celestial  authority.  And  we 
say  not  that  it  shall  be  altogether  with- 
out dread  or  apprehension,  that  the 
righteous,  starting  from  the  sleep  of 
death,  shall  hear  the  deepening  roll  of 
the  Hi  chaiigel's  summons,  and  heiiold  the 
terrific  pomp  of  heavenly  judicature. 
But  we  are  certain  that  they  will  be  as- 
sured and  comforted,  as  they  gaze  upon 
their  Judge,  and  recognize  their  sure- 
ty. Words  such  as  these  will  occur  to 
them,  "  God  hath  appointed  a  day  in 
the  which  he  will  judge  the  world  in 
righteousness  by  that  man  whom  he  hath 
ordained."  "  By  that  man."  The  man 
who  "  hath  borne  our  griefs,  and  carried 
our  sorrows."  The  man  who  uttered 
the  pathetic  words,  "  O  Jerusalem,  Jeru- 
salem, how  often  would  I  have  gathered 
thy  children  together."  The  man  who 
was  "  delivered  for  our  offences,  and 
raised  again  for  our  justification."  The 
man  who  sat  in  weariness  by  the  well  of 
Samaria;  the  man  who  wept  in  anguish 
at  the  grave  of  Lazarus ;  the  man  who 
compassionated  the  weakness  of  his 
slumbering  disciples  ;  the  man  whose 
"  sweat  was  as  it  were  great  drops  of 
blood,"  and  who  submitted  to  be  scourg- 
ed, and  buffeted,  and  crucified,  "  for  us 
men,  and  for  our  salvation."  Yes,  this 
is  the  very  being  who  is  to  gather  the 
nations  before  him,  and  determine  the 
evei'lasting  condition  of  each  individual. 
And  though  we  dare  not  attempt  to  de- 
fine the  motions  of  those  most  assured 
of  deliverance,  when  standing,  in  their 
resurrection-bodies,  on  the  earth,  as  it 
heaves  with  strange  convulsions,  and 
looking  on  a  firmament  lined  with  ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand  angels,  and 
beholding  a  throne  of  fire  and  cloud, 
such  as  was  never  piled  for  mortal  sove- 
reignty, and  hearing  sounds  of  which 
even  imafjination  cannot  catch  the  echo 
—yet  is  it  enough  to  assure  us  that 
they  will  be  full  of  hope  and  of  gladness, 
to  tell  us  that  he  who  will  speak  to  them 
is  he  who  once  died  for  them — Oh,  there 
will  be  peace  to  the  righteous,  when 
"  the  heavens  shall  be  rolled  together  as 
a  scroll,"  if  it  be  Christ  who  saith,  "  the 
hour  is  coming,  in  which  all  that  are  in 
the  graves  shall  hear  my  voice." 

But   with    what    feelings    will    those 


hear  the  voice,  of  whom  the  Savior  may 
affirm,  "  I  have  called,  and  ye  refused;' 
ye  have  set  at  nought  all  my  counsel, 
and  would  ncme  of  my  reproof?  "  They 
too  shall  know  the  voice  ;  and  it  shall  be 
to  them  as  the  voice  of  despised  mercy, 
the  voice  of  slighted  love.  They  shall 
be  more  startled,  and  more  pierced,  and 
more  lacerated,  by  that  voice,  than  if  it 
had  never  before  been  heard,  or  if  its 
tones  were  not  remembered.  The  sound 
of  that  voice  will  at  once  waken  the  me- 
mory of  warnings  that  have  been  neg- 
lected, invitations  refused,  privileges  un- 
impioved.  It  will  bo  painfully  eloquent 
of  all  that  was  vainly  done  to  win  them 
to  repentance,  and  therefore  terribly  re- 
proachful, ominous  of  a  doom  which  it  is 
now  too  late  to  avert.  They  would 
have  more  hope,  they  would  be  less 
beaten  down  by  a  consciousness  that 
they  were  about  to  enter  on  everlasting 
misery,  if  a  strange  voice  had  summoned 
them  from  the  tomb,  a  voice  that  had 
never  spoken  tenderly  and  plaintively, 
never  uttered  the  earnest  beseechings, 
the  touching  entreaties  of  a  friend,  a 
brother,  a  Redeemer.  Any  voice  rather 
than  this  voice.  None  could  be  so 
dirge-like,  so  full  of  condemnation,  so 
burdened  with  malediction,  as  that  which 
had  often  said,  "  Turn  ye,  turn  ye.  for 
why  will  ye  die  1 " 

But  this  is  the  voice  ;  and  when  this 
voice  is  heard,  "  all  that  are  in  the  graves 
shall  come  forth."  And  under  how 
many  divisions  shall  the  swarming  my- 
riads be  arranged  1  They  have  had  very 
different  opportunities  and  means,  and 
you  might  have  expected  them  to  be 
separated  into  great  variety  of  classes. 
But  we  read  of  only  one  division, 
of  only  two  classes.  "  They  that 
have  done  good  unto  the  resurrection 
of  life,  and  they  that  have  done  evil 
unto  the  resurrection  of  damnation," 
There  is  not,  you  observe,  any  thing 
intermediate.  All  rise,  so  that  there 
is  no  annihilation ;  all  rise,  either 
to  be  unspeakably  happy,  or  unspeaka- 
bly miserable,  for  there  are  but  two  re- 
surrections. We  may  indeed  be  sure 
that  both  heaven  and  hell  will  present 
recompenses  suited  to  all  varieties  of 
character,  and  that  in  the  allotments  of 
both  there  will  be  a  graduated  scale. 
But  let  it  never,  on  this  account,  be  sup- 
posed that  there  may  be  a  happiness  so 
imperfect,  and  a  misery  so  inconsider- 


S46 


THE  GENERAL  RESURRECTION  AND  JUDGMENT. 


able,  that  there  shall  be  but  little  final 
difference  Letvveen  some  who  are  acquit- 
ted, and  others  who  are  condemned. 
"  Between  us  and  you  there  is  a  great 
gulf  fixed."  The  last  admitted,  and  the 
first  excluded,  never  let  us  think  that 
these  two  classes  approach  so  nearly  to 
equality,  that  it  may  be  comparatively 
unimportant  with  which  we  ranked. 
Heaven  cannot  dwindle  away  into  hell, 
and  hell  cannot  be  softened  away  into 
heaven.  Happiness  or  misery — one  or 
other  of  these  must  be  the  portion  of 
every  man  ;  and  whilst  we  freely  confess 
tliat  happiness  and  misery  may  admit 
of  almost  countless  degrees,  and  that 
thus  there  may  be  room  for  vast  variety 
of  retributions;  we  contend  that  between 
the  two  there  must  be  an  untravelled 
separation :  the  happiness,  or  the  mis- 
ery of  one  may  be  unspeakably  less  than 
that  of  another ;  but  the  least  happy,  and 
the  least  miserable,  who  shall  tell  us 
how  much  space  there  is  between  these 
for  the  agony  and  remorse  of  a  storm- 
tossed  spirit  ? 

Observe  then  that  it  must  be  either  of 
a  "  resurrection  of  life,"  or  of  a  "  resur- 
rection of  damnation,"  that  each  amongst 
us  will  be  finally  partaker.  And  it  is  to 
depend  on  our  works,  which  of  the  two 
shall  be  our  resurrection.  "  They  that 
have  done  good,"  and  "  they  that  have 
done  evil,"  are  our  Lord's  descriptions 
of  the  respective  classes.  Works  are 
given  as  the  alone  criterion  by  which  we 
shall  be  judged.  And  this  interferes  not 
with  the  great  doctrine  of  justification  by 
faith,  because  good  works  spring  from 
faith,  and  are  both  its  fruits  and  its 
evidence ;  whilst,  by  making  words  the 
test,  a  gn;und  is  afforded  for  the  jutlg- 
ment  of  those  to  whom  Christ  has  not 
been  preached,  as  well  as  of  those  who 
have  been  invited  to  the  believing  on  his 
name.  The  whole  human  family  may 
be  brought  to  the  same  bar,  seeing  that 
the  only  thing  to  be  decided,  is,  whether 
they  have  done  good,  or  whether  they 
have  done  evil. 

And  what  say  you  to  all  this  1  If  we 
could  escape  the  judgment,  or  if  we 
could  bribe  the  judge ;  if  we  had  the 
bone  of  iron,  and  the  sinew  of  brass,  and 
the  flesh  of  marble,  so  that  we  might  de- 
fy the  fire  and  the  w(Mm,  why  then  we 
might  eat  and  drink,  and  amass  gold,  and 
gratify  lust.  But  the  judgment  is  not  to 
be  escaped — the  very  dead  are  to  hear 


the  voice,  and  who  then  can  hide  him- 
self] And  the  Judge  is  not  to  be  brib- 
ed ;  it  is  the  eternal  God  himself,  whose 
are  the  worlds,  and  all  which  they  con- 
tain. And  we  are  sensitive  beings,  beings 
with  vast  capacities  for  wretchedness, 
presenting  unnumbered  inlets  to  a  min- 
istry of  vengeance — shall  we  then,  in 
spite  of  all  this,  persist  in  neglecting  the 
crreat  salvation  1 

We  address  ourselves  now  especially 
to  our  younger  brethren,  desiring  to  con- 
clude the  discoui-ses  of  the  month  with 
a  word  of  exhortation  to  those  on  whom 
"  the  dew  of  their  youth"  is  still  freslily 
resting.  We  have  set  before  you  the  re- 
surrection of  life,  and  the  resurrection 
of  damnation  ;  and  we  now  tell  you  that 
you  have  your  fate  in  your  own  keeping, 
and  that  there  is  no  election  but  his  owa 
through  which  any  one  of  you  can  perish. 
We  speak  to  you  as  free  accountable 
beings,  each  of  whom  is  so  circumstanc- 
ed and  assisted  that  he  may,  if  he  will, 
gain  heaven  through  the  merits  of  Christ, 
The  guestion  therefore  is,  whether  you 
will  act  as  candidates  for  eternity,  or 
live  as  those  who  know  nothing  of  the 
great  end  of  their  creation.  Born  for 
immortality,  destined  to  equality  with 
angels  and  entreated  to  "  work  out  your 
salvation  with  fear  and  trembling,"  will 
ye  degrade  yourselves  to  the  level  of  the 
brute,  and  lose  those  souls  for  which 
Christ  died  1  It  is  a  question  which 
each  must  answer  for  himself.  Each  is 
free  to  obey,  or  flee,  youthful  lusts,  to 
study  or  neglect,  God's  word,  to  live 
without  prayer,  or  to  be  earnest  in  sup- 
plication. There  is  no  compulsion  on 
any  one  of  you  to  be  vicious  ;  and,  be 
well  assured,  there  will  be  no  compul- 
sion on  any  one  of  you  to  be  virtuous. 
Passions  may  be  strong ;  but  not  too 
strong  to  be  resisted  through  that 
grace  which  is  given  to  all  who  seek  it, 
but  forced  upon  none  who  despise  it. 
Temptations  may  be  powerful ;  they  are 
never  irresistible  ;  he  who  struggles  shall 
be  made  victorious;  but  God  delivers 
none  who  are  not  striving  to  deliver 
themselves. 

Be  watchful,  therefore — watchful  a- 
gainst  sins  of  the  flesh,  watchful  against 
sins  of  the  mind.  Against  sins  of  the 
flesh — sensuality  so  debases  and  ener- 
vates, that  the  soul,  as  though  sepulchred 
in  the  body,  can  do  nothing  towards 
vindicatino^  her  origin,     "  Unto  the  pure 


THE  ANCHOR  OP  THE  SOUL. 


247 


all  thincfs  are  pure  ;  but  unto  them  that 
are  tletilod  and  unbelicvinc^  is  nothing 
pure,  but  even  their  miml  and  conscience 
is  defiled."  Against  sins  of  tlie  mind 
— take  heed  that  ye  do  not  so  admire 
and  extol  reason,  as  to  think  lightly  of" 
revelation.  Ye  live  in  da3's  when  mind 
is  on  the  stretch,  and  in  scenes  where 
there  is  every  thing  to  call  it  out.  And 
we  do  not  wish  to  make  you  less  acute, 
less  inquiring,  less  intelligent,  than  the 
warmest  admirers  of  reason  can  desire 
you  to  become.  We  only  wish  you  to 
remember  that  arrogance  is  not  great- 
ness, and  that  conceit  is  the  index,  not 
of  strength  but  of  weakness.  To  exalt 
reason  beyond  its  due  place  is  to  abase 
it ;  to  set  the  human  in  rivalry  with  the 
divine  is  to  make  it  contemptible.  Let 
reason  count  the  stars,  weigh  the  moun- 
tains, fathom  the  depths — the  employ- 
ment becomes  her,  and  the  success  is 
glorious.  But  when  the  question  is, 
"  how  shall  a  man  be  just  with  God," 
reason  must  be  silent,  revelation  must 
speak ;  and  he  who  will  not  hear  it  as- 
similates himself  to  the  first  Deist,  Cain  ; 
he  may  not  kill  a  brother,  he  certainly 
destroys  himself. 

And  that  you  may  be  aided  in  over- 
coming sin,  let  your  thoughts  dwell  often 
on  that  "  strict  and  solemn  account  which 


you  must  one  day  give  at  the  judgment- 
seat  of  Christ."  1  have  endeavored  to 
speak  to  you  of  the  general  resurrection 
and  the  last  great  assize.  To  the  large 
mass  of  you  it  is  not  probable  that  I 
shall  ever  speak  again,  liut  we  shall 
meet,  when  the  sheeted  dead  are  stirring, 
and  the  elements  are  dissolving.  And 
"  knowing  the  ten-or  of  the  Lord,  w« 
persuade  men."  Would  that  we  coul 
persuade  you.  Is  there  no  voice  from 
the  "  great  white  throne  ;"  nothing  start- 
ling in  the  opened  books ;  no  eloquence 
in  the  trumpet  of  the  archangel ;  nothing 
terrible  in  the  doom,  "  depart,  ye  curs- 
ed," nothing  beautiful  in'  the  words, 
"  come,  ye  blessed  1"  I  cannot  plead 
with  you,  if  insensible  to  the  sublime  and 
thrilling  oratory  of  the  judgment  scene. 
If  you  can  go  away,  and  be  as  dissipat- 
ed as  ever,  and  as  indifferent  as  ever, 
now  that  ye  have  beheld  the  Son  of  man 
coming  in  the  clouds,  and  heard,  as  it 
were,  your  own  names  in  the  shrill  sum- 
mons to  his  bar — what  can  I  say  to  you  1 
Indeed  I  feel  that  there  are  no  more 
formidable  weapons  in  the  moral  armo- 
ry ;  and  I  can  but  pray — for  there  is  yet 
room  for  prayer — that  God  would  put 
sensibility  into  the  stone,  and  give  you 
feeling  enough  to  feel  for  yourselves. 


SERMON. 


THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  SOUL 


**  Which  hope  wo  have  &3  an  anchor  of  tho  soul,  both  sure  and  steadfast,  and  which  entereth  into  that  within  the 

veil." — Hedrews,  vi.  19. 


It  is  a  very  peculiar  and  interesting 
cause  which  I  have  this  day  undertaken 
to  plead — that  of  the  Floating  Church, 
which  offers  the  means  of  grace  to  our 
river  population,  to  the  most  useful,  and 
well  nigh   the    most   neglected    of  our 


countrymen — those  who  are  carrying  on 
our  commerce,  who  have  fought  our 
battles,  and  who  are  ready,  if  peace  be 
disturbed,  to  fight  them  again  with 
equal  valor,  and,  through  God's  help, 
with  equal  success.     If  there  be  a  call 


248 


THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  SOUL. 


to  which  the  hearts  of  Englishmen  more 
naturally  respuiid  tlian  to  any  other,  it 
mast  be  that  whicii  demands  succor  for 
sailors.  As  a  natiim  \vc  seem  tu  have  less 
fello\vshi|)  with  the  land  than  the  sea  ; 
and  our  strongest  sym}»athies  are  with 
those  who  plmigh  its  surface,  and  dare 
its  perils.  I  feel  therefore,  tliat  I  never 
had  a  charity  sermon  to  preach,  whose 
subject  gave  me  so  powerful  a  hold  on 
the  feelings  of  a  congregation  ;  and  I 
think  that  this  hold  will  not  be  lessened, 
if  I  engage  your  attention  with  a  passage 
of  scripture,  in  which  the  imagery,  if  1 
may  use  the  expression,  is  peculiarly 
maritime,  whilst  the  truths  which  are 
inculcated  are  of  the  most  interesting 
kind.  The  apostle  Paul  had  just  been 
speaking  of "  laying  hold  on  the  hope 
set  before  us,"  by  whicli  he  seems  to 
denote  the  appropriation  of  those  various 
blessings  which  have  all  been  procured 
for  us  by  Christ.  The  hope  is  that  of 
life  ;  and  to  lay  hold  on  this  hope,  must 
be  so  to  believe  upon  Christ,  that  we 
have  share  in  those  sufferings  and  merits 
which  have  purchased  forgiveness  and 
immortality  for  the  lost.  And  when  the 
apostle  j)roceeds,  in  the  words  of  our 
text,  to  describe  this  hope  as  an  anchor 
of  the  soul,  we  are  to  understand  him  as 
declaring  that  the  expectation  of  God's 
favor  and  of  the  glories  of  heaven,  through 
tTTeTtone  merit  ancTuit'ercession  of  Christ, 
is  exactly  calculated  to  keep  us  steadfast 
and  unmoved  amid  all  the  tempests  of  our 
earthly  estate.  We  shall  assume,  then, 
as  we  are  fully  warranted  by  the  context 
in  doing,  that  the  hope  in  question  is  the 
hope  of  salvation,  through  the  finished 
work  of  the  Mediator.  And  it  will  be 
our  chief  business  to  engage  you  with 
the  metaphorical  description  which  the 
apostle  gives  of  this  hope,  and  thus  aptly 
to  introduce  the  pecular  claims  of  the 
floating  church.  St.  Paul  likens  this  hope 
to  an  anchor ;  and  then  declares  of  this 
anchor,  or  the  hope,  that  it  "  entereth  into 
that  within  the  veil."  Let  these  be  our 
topics  of  discoui'sc  : 

The  first,  that  the  christian's  hope  is 
as  an  anchor  to  his  soul. 

The  second,  that  this  hope,  or  this 
anchor,  "  entereth  into  that  within  the 
vail." 

I.  Now  the  idea  which  is  immediately 
suggested  by  this  metaphor  of  the  anchor 
is  that  of  our  being  exposed  to  great 
moral  peril,  tossed  on  rough  waters,  and 


in  danger  of  making  shipwreck  of  our 
faith.  And  we  mu^t  be  well  aware,  if 
at  all  acquainted  with  ourselves  and  our 
circumstances,  that  such  idea  is  in  every 
respect  accurate,  and  that  the  imagery  of 
a  teiTn)est-tossed  ship,  girt  about  l)y  the 
rock  aiuTthe  quicksand,  as  well  as  beaten 
by  tTie  hurrncaiie,  gives  no  exaggerated 
picture  t)TtITe  believer  in  Clirist,  as  op- 
position, under  various  forms,  labors  at 
his  ruin.  We  are  not,  indeed,  concerned 
at  present  with  delineating  the  progress, 
but  oidy  the  steadfastness  of  the  christian; 
but  here,  also,  the  ocean,  with  its  waves 
and  its  navies,  furnishes  the  aptest  of 
figures.  If  there  be  any  principle,  or 
set  of  principles,  which  keeps  the  chris- 
tian firm  and  immovable  amid  the  trials 
and  tempests,  which,  like  billows  and 
winds,  beat  on  him  furiously,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  we  may  fairly  liken  that  prin- 
ciple, or  that  set  of  principles,  to  the  an- 
chor, which  holds  the  ship  fast,  whilst 
the  elements  are  raging,  and  enables 
her  to  ride  out  in  safety  the  storm. 
And  all,  therefore,  that  is  necessary,  in 
order  to  the  vindicating  the  metaplior 
of  our  text  is,  the  showing  that  the  hope 
of  which  St.  Paul  speaks  is  just  calculated 
for  the  giving  the  christian  this  fixedness, 
and  thus  preventing  his  being  driven  on 
the  rock,  or  drawn  into  the  whirlpool. 

There  are  several  and  all  simple  modes 
in  which  it  may  be  shown  that  such  is 
the  property  of  this  hope.  We  first 
observe,  that  there  is  great  risk  of  our 
being  carried  about,  as  an  apostle  ex- 
presses it,  "  with  every  wind  of  doctrine ;" 
and  whatever,  thereu)re," 'fends  to  the 
keeping  us  in  the  right  faith,  in  spite  of 
gusts  of  error,  must  deserve  to  be  char- 
acterized as  an  anchor  of  the  soul.  But, 
we  may  unhesitatingly  declare,  that  there 
is  a  power,  the  very  strongest,  in  the  hope 
of  salvation  through  Christ,  of  enabling 
us  to  stand  firm  against  the  incursions 
of  heresy.  The  man  who  has  this  hope 
will  have  no  ear  for  doctrines  wliich,  in 
the  least  degree,  depreciate  the  person 
or  work  of  the  mediator.  You  take 
away  from  him  all  that  ho  holds  most 
precious,  if  you  could  once  ^hake  his 
belief  in  the  atonement.  It  is  not  that 
he  is  afraid  of  examining  the  grounds  of 
his  own  confidence;  it  is,  that,  liaving 
well  examined  them,  and  certified  him- 
self as  to  their  being  irreversible,  his  con- 
fidence has  become  wound  up,  as  it  were, 
with  his  being  j  and  it  is  like  assaulting 


/ 


THE  ANCHOR  or  THE  SOUL. 


249 


his  existence,  to  assault  his  hope.  The 
hope  j)ie-.suppowcy  faith  in  the  Savior ; 
atul  faith  has  reasons  for  the  persuasion 
that  Jesus  is  Clod's  Son,  and  "  able  to 
save  to  the  uttermost :"  and  though  the 
individual  is  ready  enough  to  probe 
these  reasons,  and  to  bring  them  to  any 
fitting  criterion,  it  is  evident,  that  wiiere 
faith  has  once  taken  possession,  and  ge- 
uerated  liope,  he  has  so  direct  and  over- 
whelming an  interest  in  holding  fast  truth, 
that  it  must  be  more  than  a  precious  ob- 
jection, or  a  well-turned  cavil,  which 
will  prevail  to  the  loosening  of  his  grasp. 
And  therefore  do  we  affirm  of  the 
hope  of  salvation,  that  he  who  has  it,  is 
little  likely  to  be  carried  about  with  every 
wind  of  doctrine.  We  scarcely  dare 
think  that  those  who  are  christians  only 
in  profession  and  theory,  would  re- 
tain truth  without  wavering,  if  exposed 
to  the  machinations  of  insidious  reason- 
ers.  They  do  not  feel  their  everlasting 
portion  so  dependent  on  the  doctrine  of 
redemption  through  the  blood  and  right- 
eousness of  a  surety,  that,  to  shako  this 
doctrine,  is  to  make  them  castaways  for 
eternity  ;  and  therefore,  neither  can  they 
oppose  that  resistance  to  assault  which 
will  be  offered  by  others  who  know  that 
it  is  their  immortality  they  are  called  to 
surrender.  You  may  look,  then,  on  an 
individual,  who,  apparently  unprepared 
for  a  vig(jrous  defence  of  his  creed,  is 
yet  not  to  be  overborne  by  the  strongest 
onset  of  heresy.  And  you  may  think  to 
account  for  his  firmness  by  resolving  it 
into  a  kind  of  obstinacy,  which  makes  him 
inaccessible  to  argument ;  and  thus  take 
from  his  constancy  all  moral  excel- 
lence, by  representing  it  as  inipervious- 
ness  to  all  moral  attack.  But  we  have  a 
better  explanation  to  propose  ;  one  which 
does  not  proceed  on  the  unwarranted 
assumption,  that  there  must  be  insensi- 
bility where  there  has  not  been  defeat. 
We  know  of  the  individual,  that  he  has 
fled  for  refuge  to  lay  hold  on  the  hope 
set  before  him  in  the  Gospel.  And  you 
may  say  of  hope  that  it  is  a  shadowy  and 
airy  thing,  not  adapted  to  the  keeping 
man  firm  ;  but  we  assert,  on  the  contrary, 
of  the  hope  of  salvation,  that  he  who  has 
grasped  it,  feels  that  he  has  ^rasped  what 
is  substantial  and  indestructible  ;  and  that 
henceforward,  to  wrench  away  this  hope 
would  be  like  wrenching  away  the  rafter 
from  the  drowning  man,  who  knows  that, 
if  he  loosens  his  hold,  he  must  perish  in 


the  waters.  Ay,  the  hope  is  too  precious 
to  be  tamely  surrenderd.  It  has  animat- 
ed him  too  much,  and  cheered  him  too 
much,  and  sustained  him  too  much,  to  be 
given  up  otherwise  than  inch  by  inch — 
every  fraction  of  the  truths  on  which  it 
rests  being  disputed  for,  with  that  vehe- 
mence of  purpose  which  proves  the  con- 
sciousness that  with  defeat  can  come  no- 
tliing  but  despair.  And  therefore  is  it 
that  so  little  way  is  made  by  the  teacher 
oriiih'trelity'and 'error.  He  is  strivinor  to 
prevail  on  the  individual  he  attacks,  to 
throw  away  as  worthless,  a  treasure  which 
he  would  not  change  for  whatsoever  earth 
can  ^^<^ffej:^tW_ricj_\andjhe  glorious  ; 
and  wTiere  istne  marvel,  ifhefind  himself 
resisted  with  the  determination  of  one 
Vv'ho  wrestles  for  his_ail  1  You  may  Hk- 
et),  then,  the  believer  in  Christ  to  a  vessel 
launched  on  troubled  waters,  and  you 
may  consider  scepticism  and  false  doc- 
trine as  the  storms  which  threaten  him 
with  shipwreck.  And  when  you  express 
surprise  that  a  bark,  which  seems  so  frail, 
and  so  poorly  cgj^g^^l  against  the  tem- 
pest, should  ride  out  the  hurricane,  whilst 
others,  a  thousand  times  better  furnished 
with  all  the  resources  of  intellectual  sea- 
manship, drive  from  their  moorings,  and 
perish  on  the  quicksand  ;  we  have  only  to 
teTTy^ou,  that  it  is  not  by  the  strength  of 
reason,  and  not  through  the  might  of 
mental  energy,  that  moral  shipwreck  is 
avoTded  ;  but  that  a  hope  of  salvation  will 
keep  the  vessel  firm  when  all  the  cables 
wfrrptTinan  weaves  for  himself  have  given 
way  like  tow;  and  that  thus,  in  the  wild- 
est of  the  storms  which  evil  men  and 
evil  angels  can  raise,  this  hope  will  verify 
the  apostle's  description,  that  it  is  an 
anchor  of  the  soul,  and  that,  too,  sure 
and  steadfast.  ' 

But,  there  are  other  respects  in  which 
it  may  be  equally  shown,  that  there  is 
a  direct  tendency  in  christian  hope  to 
the  promoting  christian  steadfastness. 
We  observe,  next,  that  a  behever  in 
Christ  is  in  as  much  danger  of  being 
moved  by  the  trials  with  which  he 
meets,  as  by  dffSSfS"  \ij5o^irTns"  fd 
'IVH  he  has  a  growmg  conciousness 
that  "all  things  work  together  for  good," 
and  therefore  an  increasing  submissive- 
ness  in  the  season  of  tribulation,  or  an 
ever-strengthening  adherence  to  God,  as 
to  a  father.  And  that  which  contributes, 
perhaps  more  than  aught  besides,  to  the 
producing  this  adherence,  is  the  hope  on 
32 


250 


THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  SOUL. 


which  the  christian  lays  hold.  If  you 
study  the  l^u^juagC  0^  David  when  in 
troul)le,  you  will  find  tliat  it  was  huj)e  by 
which  he  was  sustained.  Iledcscribcs  hini- 
Bclf  in  terms  which  accurately  correspond 
tf>  llie  imajrcry  of"  our  text.  "  Deep 
calleth  unto  deep  at  the  noise  of  thy 
yv.alerspouts  ;  all  thy  waves  and  thy  bil- 
lows are  gone  over  me."  But  when 
the  tempest  was  thus  at  its  height,  and 
every  thing  seemed  to  conspire  to  over- 
whelm and  destroy  him,  he  could  yet  say, 
"  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  O  my  soul ! 
and  why  art  thou  disquieted  within  me  1 
hope  thou  in  God ;  for  I  shall  yet  praise 
Him,  who  is  the  health  of  my  countenance 
and  my  CJod."  It  is  hope,  you  observe, 
to  which  he  turns,  as  the  principle 
through  which  the  soul  might  best  brave 
the  hurricane.  And  can  we  wonder  that 
a  hope  such  as  that  of  the  believer  in 
Christ,  should  so  contribute  to  the  stead- 
fastness of  its  possessor,  that  the  winds 
may  bufiet  him  and  the  floods  beat  against 
him,  and  yet  he  remains  ^rm,  like  the 
v^-ell-anchored  vessel  ]  He  knew  that, 
in  throwing  in  nis  lot  with  the  followers 
of  Jesus,  he  was  consenting  to  a  life  of 
stern  moral  discipline,  and  that  he  must 
be  prepared  for  a  more  than  ordinary 
share  of  those  chastisements  from  which 
nature  recoils.  And  why,  forewarned 
as  he  thus  was  of  what  would  be  met 
with  in  a  christian  course,  did  he  adven- 
ture on  the  profession  of  a  religion  that 
was  to  multiply  his  troubles  1  Why 
embarked  he  on  an  ocean,  swept  by 
fiercer  winds,  and  arched  with  darker 
skies,  when  he  miglit  have  shaped  his 
voyage  over  less  agitated  waters  1  We 
need  not  tell  you,  that  he  has  heard  of 
a  bright  land,  wliich  is  only  to  be  reach- 
ed by  launching  forth  on  the  boisterous 
sea.  We  need  not  tell  you,  that  he 
assuied  himself,  upon  evidence  which 
admits  no  dispute,  that  there  is  no  safety 
for  a  vessel  freighted  with  immortality, 
unless  she  be  tempest-tossed;  and  that, 
though  there  may  be  a  smoother  expanse, 
dotted  with  islands  which  seem  clad  with 
a  richer  verdure,  and  sparkling  with  a 
sunshine  which  is  more  cheering  to  the 
senses  of  the  mari;ier,  yet  that  it  is  on 
the  lake,  tlius  sleeping  in  its  beauty,  that 
the  ship  is  in  most  peril  ;  and  that  if  the 
lake  be  changed  I'm  liie  wild  hnjad ocean, 
then  only  will  a  home  Ix;  i(?achcd  where 
no  storm  rages,  and  no  clouds  darken, 
but  where,  in  ono  unbroken  tiarH|uility, 


those  who  liave  braved  the  moral  tempest 
will  repose  eternally  in  the  light  of 
God's  countenance.  It  is  hope,  then,  by 
which  the  christian  was  animated,  when 
taking  his  resolve  to  breast  the  fury  of 
every  adversary,  and  embrace  a  religion 
v.hich  told  him  tliat  in  the  world  he 
should  have  tribulation.  And  when  the 
tribulation  comes,  and  the  crested  waves 
are  swelling  higher  and  higher,  why 
should  you  expect  him  to  be  driven  back, 
or  swallowed  up]  Is  it  the  loss  of  pro- 
perty with  which  he  is  visited,  and  wiiich 
threatens  to  shake  his  dependence  upoi) 
God  1  Hope  whispers  that  he  has  in 
heaven  an  enduring-  ^ubstancc  ;  and  he 
takes  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  his  goods. 
Is  it  the  loss  of  friends  ?  He  sorrows 
not  "  even  as  others  which  have  no 
hope,"  but  is  comforted  by  the  know- 
ledge, that  "  them  also  which  sleep  in 
Jesus  will  God  bring  with  him."  Is  it 
sickness — is  it  the  treacliery  of  friemls — 
is  It  the  failui'e  of  cherislied  plans,  which 
hangs  the  firmament  with  blackness,  and 
works  the  waters  into  fury  1  None  of  these 
things  move  him ;  for  hope  assures  hira 
that  his  "  light  affliction,  which  is  but 
for  a  moment,  worketh  for  him  a  far 
more  exceedinof  and  eternal  weight  of 
giory."  Is  it  death,  which,  advancing  in 
its  awfulness,  would  beat  down  his  con- 
fidence, and  snap  his  cordage,  and  send 
him  adrift  1  His  hope  is  a  hope  full  of 
immortality:  he  knows"  "^1if  whom  ho 
liatTiT)elieved,  and  he  is  persuaded  that 
he  is  able  to  keep  that  which  he  hath 
committed  unto  him  against  that  day." 
And  thus,  from  whatever  pi)int  the  tem- 
pest rages,  there  is  a  power  in  that  hope 
which  God  hath  implanted,  of  holding 
fast  the  christian,  and  preventing  his 
casting'"away  that  confidence  whicli  hath 
great  reccjmpense  of  reward.  We  can 
bid  you  look  upon  him,  when,  on  every 
human  calculation,  so  fierce  is  the  hur- 
ricane, and  so  wrought  are  the  waves 
into  madness,  there  would  seem  no  like- 
lihood of  his  avoiding  the  making  ship- 
wreck of  his  faith.  And  when  you  find, 
that,  in  place  of  being  stranded  or  engulf- 
ed, he  resists  the  wild  onset,  and  if  he  do 
not  for  the  moment  advance,  keeps  tho 
way  he  has  made,  oh  !  then  we  have  an 
easy  answer  to  give  to  inquiries  as  to 
the  causes  of  this  unexpected  steadfast- 
ness. We  do  not  deny  the  strength  of 
the  storm,  and  the  might  of  the  waters; 
but  we  tell  you  of  a  hope  wliich  growa 


THE  ANCHOR  OP  THE  SOUL. 


251 


atronger  and  stronger  as  tribulation  in- 
creases :  stronger,  because  sorrow  is  the 
known  discipline  for  the  enjoyment  of 
the  object  of  this  hojie;  stronger,  because 
the  proved  worth  lessness  of  what  is  earth- 
ly serves  to  fix  the  affections  more 
firmly  on  what  is  heavenly ;  stronger, 
inasmuch  as  there  arc  promises  of  God, 
which  seem  composed  on  purpose  fjr 
the  season  of  trouble,  and  which,  then 
grasped  by  faith,  throw  new  vigor  into 
hope.  And  certainly,  if  we  may  afiirm 
all  this  of  the  hope  of  a  christian,  there 
is  no  room  for  wonder  that  he  rides  out 
the  hurricane  ;  for  such  hope  is  manifest- 
ly an  anchor  of  the  soul,  and  that,  too, 
sure  and  steadfast. 

We  go  on  to  obsei-ve,  that  the  chris- 
tian is  exposed  to  great  varieties  of 
temptation:  the  passions  of  an  evil  na- 
ture, and  the  enticements  of  a  ^  world 
which  lielh  in  wickedness,"  conspire 
to  draw  him  aside  from  righteousness 
and  force  him  back  to  the  habits 
and  scenes  which  he  has  professedly 
abandoned.  The  danger  of  spiritual 
shTpvvreck  would  be  comparatively  small, 
if  the  sea  on  which  he  voyages  were 
swept  by  no  storms  but  those  of  sorrow 
and  persecution.  The  risk  is  far  great- 
er, when  he  is  assaulted  by  the  solicit- 
ations of  his  own  lusts,  and  the  corrupt 
affections  of  h's  nature  are  plied  with 
theTr  correspondent  objects.  And  though 
it  too  often  happens  that  he  is  overcome 
by  temptation,  we  are  sure,  that,  if  he 
kept  hope  in  exercise,  he  would  not  be 
moved" by  the  pleadings  of  the  flesh  and 
the  world.  Let  hope  be  in  vigor,  and 
the  chiistian's  mind  is  fixed  on  a  portion 
which  he  can  neither  measure  by  his 
imagination,  nor  be  deprived  of  by  his 
enemies.  He  is  already  in  a  city  which 
hath  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of  the 
mp(,m  :  whose  walls  are  of  jasper,  and 
wnTise  streets  of  ffold.  AlreaoY  he  ioins 
tlie  general  assembly  and  church  of  the 
first-borTP-already  is  he  ihe_equal  of 
angeTs^^^^already  is  he  advancing  with  a 
sliining  company,  which  no  man  can 
nurnber,  towards  the  throne  of  God  and 
of  the  Lamb,  and  beholding  face  to  face 
the  Creat(tr  and  Redeemer,  and  burst- 
ing into  an  ecstacy  of  adoration,  as  the 
magnificence  of  Deity  is  more  and  more 
developed.  And  now,  if,  at  a  time  such 
as  this, — when  it  may  almost  be  said 
that  he  has  entered  the  haven,  that  he 
breathes  the  fragrance,  and  gazes  on  the 


loveliness,  and  shares  the  delights  of  the 
Paradise  of  God, — he  be  solicited  to  the 
indulgence  of  a  lust,  the  sacrifice  of  a 
principle,  or  the  pursuit  of  a  bauble, — 
can  you  tTiink  the  likelihood  to  be  great 
that  he  will  be  mastered  by  the  tempta- 
tion, that  he  will  return,  at  the  summons 
of  some  low  passion,  from  his  i^nlen|L|id 
excursion,  and  defile  himself  with  the 
impurities  of  earth  1  Oh !  we  can  be 
confident — and  the  truth  is  so  evident  as 
not  to  need  proof — that,  in  proportion 
as  a  man  is  anticipatiiig^jthe_j)leasure3 
of  eteynitv.  he  willbe  firm  in  his  resolve 
of  abstaining  from  the  pleasures  of  sin. 
We  can  be  confident,  that  if  hope,  the 
hope  set  before  us  in  the  Gospel,  be 
earnestly  clungf  to,  there  will  be  no  room 
in*tlie  grasp  i'or  the  glittering  tO|y3  with 
which  Satan  would  bribe  us  to  throw 
awav  our  eternity.     An3  therefore, — to 

.11111  mfc  I  ■jtai».-m.tjn^,~.m:.  ^  .  i  i          p 

bring  the  matter  again  under  the  figure 

of  our  text, — we  can  declare   of  hope, 

that  it  ministers  to  christian  steadfastness, 

when  the  temptations  of  the  world,  the 

flesh,  and  tiie  devil,  combine  fo  produce 

wavering  and^  inconstancy.      Again  we 

liken   the  christian   to   a  ship,  and   the 

temptations  by   which  he  is   met   to   a 

tempest,  which  threatens  to  drive  him 

back,  and  cast  him  a  wreck  upon   the 

shore.     And  it  would  avail  nothing  that 

he   was   furnished  with  the  anchors,  if 

such  they  may  be  called,  of  a  philosophic 

love  of  virtue,  of  a  feeling  that  vice   is 

aeffrarnn^jtoman,  and  of  a  general  opin- 
...o^n  v  T6»>»"ni "  III  -11  !/• 

ion  that  God  may  possibly  appirove  sell 

denial.  If  these  held  the  ship  at  first, 
they  would  quickly  give  way,  when  the 
storm  of  evil  passion  grew  towards  its 
height.  But  hope — the  hope  of  a  hea- 
ven into  which  shall  enternothing^that 
defiletli";  TRe  h^'pe  oTjoys  as  pure  as  they 
are  lofty,    and   as  spiritual   as   they   are 


abiding  ;  the  hope  of  what  the  eye  hath 
not  seen,  and  the  ear  hath  not  heard,  but 
which  can  be  neither  attained  nor  enjoy- 
ed without  holiness — this  hope,  we  say, 
is  a  christian's  sheet-anchor  in  the  hur- 
ricane of  temptatim^^inttif  he  use  this 
hope,  in  his  endeavors  to  bear  up  against 
the  elements,  he  shall,  by  God's  help, 
weather  the  worst  moral  storm ;  and 
then,  when  the  sky  is  again  bright,  and 
the  mighty  billows  have  subsided,  and 
the  vessel  again  spreads  her  canvass,  oh  ! 
he  shall  gratefully  and  rejoicingly  con- 
fess of  this  hope,  that  it  is  an  anchor  of 
the  soul,  and  that,  too,  sure  and  steadfast 


252 


THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  SOUL. 


II.  Now  throughout  these  illustra-  I 
tions  we  have  rather  assumed  than  prov- 
ed that  cliristian  liope  is  ot"  a  nature 
widely  diilerent  from  that  ot"  any  other. 
But  it  will  be  easily  seen  that  we  have 
claimed  for  it  nothing  beyond  the  truth, 
if  we  examine,  in  the  second  place,  the 
apostle's  statement  in  regard  of  a  chris- 
tian's hope,  that  it  "entei^th_intojthat  with- 
iq  the  yuil-"  The  allusion  is  undoubtedly 
to  the  veil,  or  curtain,  which  separated  the 
holy  place  from  the  holy  of  holies  in  the 
temple  at  Jerusalem.  By  the  holy  of  ho- 
lies was  typified  the  scene  of  God's  imme- 
diate presence,  into  which  Christ  entered 
when^the  days  of  his  humiliation  were 
ended.  And  hence  we  understand  by  the 
hope,  or  the  anchor,  entering  within  the 
veil,  that,  in  believing  upon  Jesus,  we  fast- 
en ourselves,  as  it  were,  to  the  realities  of 
the  invisible  world.  This  throws  new 
and  great  light  on  the  simile  of  our  text. 
It  appears  that  the  christian,  whilst  tos- 
sing on  a  tempestuous  sea,  is  fast  bound 
to  another  scene  of  being ;  and  that, 
whilst  the  vessel  is  on  the  waters  of 
time,  tlie  anchor  is  on  the  tlQck  of ^gter- 
Dity.  And  Tt  is  not  possible  that  the 
soul  should  find  safe  anchorage  without 
the  veil.  Conscious  as  she  is,  and  often 
forced  to  allow  scope  to  the  consciousness, 
that  she  is  not  to  perish  with  the  body, 
she  may  strive,  indeed,  to  attach  herself 
firmly  to  terrestrial  things;  but  an  over- 
grown restlessness  will  prove  that  she 
has  clist  her  anchor  where  it  cannot  gain 
a  hold.  If  we  were  merely  intellectual 
beings,  and  not  also  irnmortal,  the  case 
might  be  different.  There  might  be  an 
anchor  of  the  mind,  which  entered  not 
into  that  within  the  veil,  of  strength 
enough,  and  tenacity  enough,  to  produce 
steadfastness  amid  the  fluctuations  of 
life.  But  immortal  as  we  are,  as  well  as 
intellectual,  the  anchor  of  the  soul  must 
be  dropped  in  the  waters  of  the  bound- 
Icss  herea^c*.-.  And  when,  after  vain 
efforts  U)  preserve  herself  from  wreck 
and  disquietude,  by  fixing  her  hope  on 
things  which  perish  with  the  using,  she 
is  taught  of  Cod  to  make  heaven  audits 
glories  the  object  of  expectation,' then  it 
is  as  though  she  had  let  down  her  an- 
chor to  the  very  base  of  the  everlasting 
hills,  and  a  mighty  hold  is  gained,  and 
the"  worst  tempest  may  be  defied.  Tlie 
Boul  which  is  t*!iu3  anchored  in  eterniiy. 
is  like  the  vessel  which  a  standi  cable 
binds  to  the    dist^t  shorp  and    which 


gradually  warps  itself  into  h_arborA 
Tbere  is  at"T)nce  what  will  keep  her  | 
steadfast  in  the  stQrm,  and  j^ji^nce  her  j 
towards  the  hayen.  Who  knows  not 
tliat  tlie  dissatisiaction  which  men  always 
experience  whilst  engaged  in  ihe  pursuit 
of  earthly  good,  arises  mainly  from  a 
vast  disproportion  between  their  capaci- 
ties for  happiness,  and  that  material  of 
happiness  with  which  they  think  to  fill 
them  1  What  they  hope  for  is  some 
good,  respecting  which  they  might  be 
certain,  that,  if  attained,  it  will  only  dis- 
appoint. And  therefore  is  it,  that  in 
place  of  being  as  an  anchor,  hope  itself 
agitates  them,  driving  them  hither  and 
thither,  like  ships  without  ballast.  But 
it  is  not  thus  with  a  hope  which  entereth 
within  the  veil.  Within  the  veil  are  laid  ; 
up  joys  and  possessions  which  are  more 
than  cTmimeiisurate  with  men' ^__caciac"i- 
tieslbr  hajpmueg^,  wTien  stretched  to  the 
uTmost.  Within  the  veil  is  a  glor^f^,  such 
as  was  never  proposed  by  ambition  in  its  Z. 
mc>st  daring:  ffiorht :  and  a  wealth,  such 
as  never  passed  before  avarice  in  its  most  ^ 
golden  dreams ;  and  delights,  such  as 
imagination,  when  empteyed  in  delineat- 
ing the  most  exquisite  pleasures,  hath 
never  been  able  to  array.  And  let  hope 
fasten  on  tliis  glory,  this  wealth,  these 
delights,  and  presently  the  soul,  as  though 
she  felt  that  the  objects  of  desire  were 
as  ample  as  herself,  acquires  a  fixedness 
of  purpose,  a  steadiness  of  aim,  a  combi- 
nation of  energre^fWhich  contrast  strange- 
ly wirtTthe'tnconstancy,  the  vacillation, 
the  distraction,  which  have  made  her 
hitherto  the  sport  of  every  wind  and 
every  wave.  The  object  of  hope  being 
immeasurable,  inexhaustible,  hope  clings 
to  this  object  with  a  tenacity  which  it 
cannot  manifest  when  grasping  only  the 
insignificant  and  unsubstantial ;  and  thus 
the  soul  is  bound,  we  might  almost  say 
indissolubly,  to  the  unchangeable  real- 
ities of  the  inheritance  of  the  saints.  And 
can  you  marvel,  if,  with  her  anchor  thus 
dropped  within  the  veil,  she  is  not  to  be 
driven  from  her  course  by  the  wildest  of 
the  storms  which  yet  rage  without  ? 
Besides,  within  the  veil  is  an  Intercessor, 
whose  pleadings  insure  that  these  objects 
of  hope  shall  be  finally  attained.  There 
is  something  exquisitely  beautiful  in  the 
idea,  that  the  anchor  has  not  been  drop- 
ped in  the  rough  waters  which  the  chris- 
tian has  to  navigate.  The  anchor  rests 
where  there  is  one  eternal  calm,  and  its 


THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  SOUL. 


253 


hold  is  on  a  rock,  which  no  action  of  tlie 
waves  can  wear  down.  You  may  8ay 
of  christian  hope,  that  it  is  a  principle 
which  gives  Hxedness  to  the  soul,  be- 
cause it  can  appeal  to  an  ever-living, 
ever-j)revalent  Intercessor,  who  is  pledg- 
ed to  make  good  its  amplest  expecta- 
tions. It  is  the  hope  of  joys  which  have 
been  purchased  at  a  cost  which  it  is  not 
possible  to  compute,  and  which  are  de- 
livered itjto  a  guardianship  which  it  is 
not  possible  to  defeat.  It  is  the  hope 
of  an  inheritance,  our  title  to  which 
has  been  written  in  the  blood  of  the 
Mediator,  and  our  entrance  into  which 
that  Mediator  evel-  lives  to  secure. 
And  tlicrefore,  is  it  that  we  affirm  of 
christian  hope,  that  it  is  precisely  adapt- 
ed to  the  preventing  the  soul  from  being 
borne  away  by  the  gusts  of  temptation, 
or  swallowed  up  in  the  deep  waters  of 
trial.  It  is  more  than  hope.  It  is  hope 
with  all  its  attractiveness,  and  with  none 
of  its  uncertainty.  It  is  hope  with  all 
that  beauty  and  brilliancy  by  which  men 
are  fascinated,  and  with  none  of  that  de- 
lusiveness by  which  they  are  deceived. 
It  is  Jiope  with  its  bland  and  soothing 
voice,  but  that  voice  whispering  nothing 
but  truth;  hope,  with  its  untired  wing, 
but  that  wing  lifting  only  to  regions 
which  have  actual  existence;  hope,  with 
its  fairy  pencil,  but  that  pencil  painting 
only  what  really  flashes  with  the  gold 
and  vermilion.  Oh,  if  hope  be  fixed 
upon  Christ,  that  Rock  of  Ages, — a  rock 
rent,  if  we  may  use  the  expression,  on 
purpose  that  there  might  be  a  holding- 
place  for  the  anchors  of  a  perishing 
world — it  may  well  come  to  pass  that 
hope  gives  the  soul  steadfastness.  I 
know  that  within  the  veil  there  ever 
reigneth  one  who  obtained  nght,  by 
his  agony  and  passion,  to  rear  eternal 
mansions  for  those  who  believe  upon 
his  name.  I  know  that  within  the  veil 
there  are  not  only  pleasures  and  pos- 
sessions adequate  to  the  capacities  of 
my  nature,  when  advanced  to  full  man- 
hood, but  a  friend,  a  surety,  an  advocate, 
who  cannot  be  prevailed  with  even  by 
unwortiiiness,  to  refuse  me  a  share  in 
what  he  died  to  procure,  and  lives  to 
bestow.  And  therefore  if  I  fix  my  hope 
within  the  veil  ;  within  the  veil,  where 
are  the  alone  delights  that  can  satisfy  ; 
within  the  veil,  where  is  Christ,  whose 
intercession  can  never  be  in  vain, — hope 
will  be  such  as  is  neither  to  be  diverted 


by  passing  attractions,  nor  daunted  by 
apprehensions  of  failure  :  it  will,  conse- 
quently, keep  me  firm  alike  arnid  the 
storm  of  evil  passions,  and  the  inrush 
of  Satan's  suggestions  ;  it  will  enable  me 
equally  to  withstand  the  ciiirent  which 
would  hurry  me  into  dis(jbedicnce,  and 
the  eddies  which  would  sink  me  into 
despondency.  And,  oh,  then,  is  it  not 
with  justice  that  I  declare  of  hope,  that 
"  it  is  an  anchor  of  the  soul  both  sure  and 
steadfast ;"  and  that  I  give  as  the  reason 
that  "  it  entereth  into  that  within  the 
veil !" 

And  now  we  may  safely  ask,  whether, 
if  you  know  any  thing  practically  of  the 
worth  of  christian  hoj)e,  you  can  be  indif- 
ferent to  the  condition  of  thousands 
around  you,  who  have  no  such  anchor 
of  the  soul  1  If  you  are  anchoied  with- 
in the  veil,  can  you  look  on  with  uncon- 
cern, whilst  many  a  noble  bark,  on  the 
right  hand  and  on  the  left,  freighted 
with  immortality,  is  drifting  to  and  fro, 
the  sport  of  every  wind,  and  in  danger, 
each  instant,  of  being  wrecked  for  eter- 
nity 1  We  are  sure  that  christian  pri- 
vileges are  of  so  generous  and  commun- 
icative a  nature,  that  no  man  can  possess, 
and  not  wish  to  impart  them.  And  if 
there  be  a  class  of  individuals  who,  on 
all  accounts,  have  a  more  than  common 
claim  on  the  sympathy  of  christians,  be- 
cause more  than  commonly  exposed  to 
moral  tempests  and  dangers,  may  we 
not  select  sailors  as  that  class, — men 
whose  business  is  in  great  waters,  who 
from  boyhood  have  been  at  home  on  the 
sea,  whether  in  storm  or  in  calm  ;  but 
whose  opportunities  of  christian  instruc- 
tion are,  for  the  most  part,  wretchedly 
small ;  and  who  learn  to  steer  to  eveiy 
harbor  except  that  which  lieth  within 
the  veil  1  The  religious  public  have 
much  to  answer  for  on  account  of 
the  neglect — of  course  we  speak  com- 
paratively— which  they  have  manifested 
towards  sailors.  Very  little  has  even 
yet  been  done  towards  ameliorating  their 
moral  condition.  So  soon  as  the  sailor 
returns  to  port,  after  having  been  iong 
tossed  on  distant  seas,  he  is  surrounded 
by  miscreants,  who  seek  to  entice  him 
to  scenes  of  the  worst  profligacy,  that 
they  may  possess  themselves  of  his 
hard-earned  gams.  And  chiistian  phi- 
lanthopy  has  been  very  slow  in  stepping 
in  and  ofl'ering  an  asylum  to  the  sailor, 
where  he  may  be   secure    against    the 


254 


THE  ANCHOR  OF  THE  SOUL. 


villany  which  would  ruin  body  and 
soul.  Christian  philaxithopy  has  been 
very  slow  in  taking  measures  for  provi- 
ding, tl)at,  when  he  returned  from  his 
wanderings — probably  to  find  many 
in  the  grave  who  had  sent  anxious 
thouglits  after  him  as  he  ploughed  the 
great  deep,  and  who  had  vainly  hoped 
to  welcome  him  back — he  should  iiave 
the  Gospel  preached  to  him,  and  the 
ministers  of  Christianity  to  counsel,  and 
admonish,  and  encourage  him.  It  is 
vain  to  say,  that  our  churches  have  been 
open,  and  that  the  sailor,  as  well  as  the 
landsman,  might  enter,  and  hear  the  glad 
tidings  of  redemption.  You  are  to  re- 
member, that  for  months,  and  perhaps 
even  years,  the  sailor  has  been  debarred 
from  the  means  of  grace  ;  he  has  been 
in  strange  climes,  where  he  has  seen 
nothing  but  idolatry ;  even  the  forms  of 
religion  have  been  altogether  kept  from 
him  ;  and  now  he  requires  to  be  sought 
out,  and  entreated  ;  and  unless  in  some 
peculiar  mode  you  bring  the  Gospel  to 
him,  the  likelihood  is  the  very  smallest 
of  his  seeking  it  for  himself  But  we 
thank  God  that  of  late  years  attempts 
have  been  made,  so  far  as  the  port  of 
this  great  city  is  concerned,  to  provide 
christian  instruction  for  sailors.  There 
is  now  a  floating  Cliurch  in  our  river  : 
a  vessel,  which  had  been  built  for  the 
battle,  and  which  walked  the  waters  to 
pour  its  thunders  on  the  enemies  of  our 
land,  has  through  the  kindness  of  govern- 
ment, been  converted  into  a  place  of 
worship  ;  and  a  flag  waves  from  it,  tel- 
ling the  mariner  that,  on  the  element 
which  he  has  made  his  own,  he  may 
learn  how  to  cast  anchor  for  eternity  ; 
and  the  minister  of  this  church  moves 
about  among  the  swarming  ships,  as  he 
would  move  through  his  parish,  endeavor- 
ing by  the  use  of  all  the  engines  by 
which  God  has  intrusted  his  embassadors, 
to  arrest  vice,  and  gain  a  hold  for  religion 
amongst  the  wild  and  weather-beaten 
crews.  And  it  is  in  support'  of  this 
church  that  we  now  ask  your  contribu- 
tions. His  Majesty  the  King,  by  the 
liberal  annual  subscription  of  .£50,  shows 
how  warm  an  interest  he  takes  in  the 
cause,  and  recommends  it  to  the  succor 
of  his  subjects.  The  exemplary  bishop, 
moreover,  of  this  dioc(;sc — whom  may 
a  gracious  God  soon  reslctre  to  full  health, 
is  deeply  interested  on  behalf  of  tliis 
church.     But  you  cannot  need  to  be  told 


of  the  great  and  the  noble  who  support 
this  cause  ;  it  asks  not  the  recommen- 
dation of  tilled  patronage;  you  are  En- 
glislmien,  and  the  church  is  for  sailors. 
Yes,  the  church  is  for  sailors  ;  men  who 
have  bled  for  us,  men  who  fetch  for  us 
all  the  productions  of  the  earth,  men  who 
carry  out  lo  every  land  the  Bibles  we 
translate  and  the  missionaries  we  equip: 
the  church  is  for  sailors  ;  and  yet  though 
the  annual  expenditure  is  only  between 
three  and  four  hundred  pounds,  the 
stated  annual  income — 1  am  almost 
ashamed  to  say  it — is  only  a  hundred  and 
fifty.  I  am  persuaded,  that  to  mention 
this  will  suffice  to  procure  a  very  liberal 
collection.  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  at- 
tempt the  working  on  your  feelings. 
When  I  plead  the  cause  of  sailors,  it 
seems  to  me  as  though  the  hurricane 
and  the  battle,  the  ocean  with  its  crested 
billows,  and  war  with  its  magnificently 
stern  retinue,  met  and  mingled  to  give 
force  to  the  appeal.  It  seems  as  though 
straTided  navies,  the  thousands  who  have 
gone  down  with  the  waves  for  their 
winding-sheet  and  who  await  in  unfath- 
omable caverns  the  shrill  trumpet-peal 
of  the  archangel,  rose  to  admonish  us  of 
the  vast  debt  we  owe  those  brave  fellows 
who  are  continually  jeoparding  their 
lives  in  our  service.  And  then  there 
comes  also  before  me  the  imagery  of  a 
mother,  who  has  parted,  with  many 
tears  and  many  forebodings  from  her 
sailor-boy  ;  whose  thoughts  have  accom- 
panied him  as  none  but  those  of  a 
mother  can,  in  his  long  wanderings  over 
the  deep,  and  who  would  rejoice,  with 
all  a  mother's  gladness,  to  know  that 
where  his  moral  danger  was  greatest, 
there  was  a  church  to  receive  him,  and 
a  minister  to  counsel  him.  But  we  shall 
not  enlarge  on  such  topics.  We  only 
throw  out  hints,  believing  that  this  is 
enough  to  waken  thoughts  in  your  minds, 
whicli  will  not  allow  of  your  contenting 
yourselves  with  such  contributions  aa 
are  the  ordinary  produce  of  ch  irity- 
sermons.  The  great  glory  of  England, 
and  her  great  defence,  have  long  lain, 
under  the  blessing  of  God,  in  what  we 
emphatically  call  her  wooden  walls. 
And  if  we  could  make  vital  Christianity 
general  amongst  our  sailors,  wo  should 
have  done  more  than  can  be  calculated 
towards  giving  permanence  to  our  na- 
tional greatness,  and  bringing  onward 
the  destruction  of  heathenism.     We  say 


THE  DIVINE  PATIENCE  EXHAUSTED,  ETC. 


255 


advisedly,  the  destruction  of  heathenism. 
The  inlhicnce  is  nut  to  he  computed  which 
ICii^lish  saih)rs  now  exert  for  evil  all  over 
the  globe.  They  are  scattered  all  over  the 
gk)be ;  but  too  often,  though  far  from 
always,  unhappily,  their  dissoluteness 
brings  discredit  on  the  christian  religion, 
and  pagans  learn  to  ridicule  the  faith 
which  seems  prolific  of  nothing  but  vice, 
Our  grand  labor  therefore  should  be  to 
teach  our  sailors  to  cast  anchor  within 
the  veil ;  and  then  in  all  their  voyages 
would  they  serve  as  missionaries,  and 
not  a  ship  would  leave  our  coasts  which 
was  not  freighted  with  preachers  of 
redemption  ;  and  wheresoever  the  British 
flag  flies,  and  that  is  wheresoever  the 
sea  beats,  would  the  standard  of  the 
cross    be    displayed.      Ay,    man    our 


wooden  walls  with  men  who  have  taken 
christian  hope  as  the  anchor  of  the  soul; 
and  these  walls  shall  be  as  ramparts 
which  no  enemies  can  overthrow,  and 
as  batteries  for  the  demolition  of  the 
strongholds  of  .Satan.  Then, — and  may 
Ciod  hasten  the  time,  and  may  you  now 
prove  your  desire  for  its  coming — then 
will  the  navy  of  England  be  every 
where  irresistible,  because  every  where 
voyaging  in  the  strength  and  service  of 
the  Lord  ;  and  the  noble  words  of  poetry 
shall  be  true  in  a  higher  sense  than  could 
ever  yet  be  affirmed  : 

"  Britannia  needs  no  bulwark, 

No  towers  along  the  steep  ; 
Her  march  is  ou  the  mountain-wave. 

Her  home  is  on  the  deep !  " 


SERMON. 


THE  DIVINE  PATIENCE  EXHAUSTED  THROUGH  THE  MAKING 

VOID  THE  LAW. 


"  It  is  time  for  thee,  Lord,  to  work :  fer  they  have  made  void  thy  law.    Therefore  I  love  thy  commandments  abova 
gold  i  yea,  above  fine  gold."— PsALM  CXIX.  126,  127. 


There  is  no  property  of  the  divine 
nature  which  demands  more,  whether 
of  our  admiration  or  of  our  gratitude, 
than  long-suffering.  That  the  Lord  is 
"slow  to  anger" — there  is  more  in  this 
to  excite  both  wonder  and  praise,  than 
in  those  other  truths  with  which  it 
is  associated  by  the  prophet  Nahum. 
"  The  Lord  is  slow  to  anger,  and  greeit 
in  power,  and  will  not  at  all  acquit  the 
wicked :  the  Lord  hath  his  way  in  the 
whirlwind  and  in  the  storm,  and  the 
clouds  are  the  dust  of  his  feet."  We 
have  often  told  you  that  the  long-suffer- 
ferinf  of  God  is  wonderful,  because  it 
indicates  the  putting  constraint  on  his 
own  attributes;  it  is  omnipotence  exerted 
over  the  Omnipotent  himself. 

So  far  as  our  own  interests  are  con- 


cerned, you  will  readily  admit  that  we 
are  extraordinarily  indebted  to  the  Di- 
vine forbearance.  Those  of  us  who  are 
now  walking  the  path  of  life,  where 
would  they  have  been,  had  not  God 
borne  long  with  them,  refusing,  as  it 
were,  to  be  wearied  out  by  their  perver- 
sity ■?  Those  who  are  yet  "  strangers 
from  the  covenant  of  promise,"  to  what 
but  the  patience  of  their  Maker  is  it 
owing,  that  they  have  not  been  cut  down 
as  cumberers  of  the  groimd,  but  still 
stand  within  the  possibilities  of  forgive- 
ness and  acceptance  ]  But  it  is  a  melan- 
choly thing  that  we  are  compelled  to  add, 
that  there  is  a  great  tendency  in  all  of 
us  to  the  abusing  God's  long-suffering, 
and  to  the  so  presum.ing  on  his  forbear- 
ance as  to  continue  in  sin.     We  may  be 


256 


THE  DIVINE  PATIENCE  EXHAUSTED 


Bure  that  a  vast  outward  reformation 
would  be  wroujii^ht  on  tiic  world,  if  there 
were  a  sudden  chanjie  in  God's  dealings, 
so  that  jninisliinent  followed  instantane- 
ously on  rrinie.  If  the  Almiglity  were  to 
mark  out  certain  offences,  the  jjerpctra- 
tiun  of  which  he  would  immediately  visit 
with  death,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
these  oflences  would  be  shunned  with 
the  greatest  carefulness,  and  that  too 
by  the  very  men  whom  no  exhortations, 
and  no  warnings,  can  now  deter  from 
their  commission.  Yet  it  is  not  that 
punishment  is  one  jot  less  certain  now 
than  it  would  be  on  the  supposed 
change  of  arrangement.  The  only  dif- 
ference is,  that,  in  one  case,  God  dis- 
plays long-suffering,  and  that  in  the  other 
he  would  not  display  long-sufteringr — the 
certainty  that  j^unishment  will  follow 
crime  is  quite  the  same  in  both.  And 
thus,  unhappily,  sin  is  less  avoided  than 
it  would  be  if  we  lived  under  an  economy 
of  immediate  retribution  ;  and  "  because 
sentence  against  an  evil  work  is  not 
executed  speedily,  therefore  the  heart 
of  the  sons  of  meu  is  fully  set  in  them  to 
do  evil."  In  place  of  being  softened 
by  the  patience  of  which  we  have  so 
long  been  the  objects,  we  are  apt  to  be 
encouraged  l)y  it  to  further  resistance  ; 
calculating  that  he  who  has  so  often  for- 
borne to  strike,  will  spare  a  little  longer, 
and  that  we  may  with  safety  yet  defer 
to  repent. 

It  is  therefore  of  great  importance 
that  men  be  taught  that  there  are  limits 
even  to  the  forbearance  of  (xod,  and  that 
it  is  possible  so  to  presume  on  it  as  to 
exhaust.  And  this  is  evidently  what  the 
Psalmist  inculcates  in  the  first  of  those 
verses  on  which  we  would  discoui-se. 
He  seems  to  mark  the  times  in  which 
he  lived  as  times  of  extraordinary  depra- 
vity, when  men  had  thrown  off  the  re- 
straints of  religion.  "  They  have  made 
void  thy  law."  They  have  reduced 
the  divine  precepts  to  a  dead  letter,  and 
rel'use  to  receive  them  as  a  rule  of  life. 
The  expression  manifestly  dewotes  that 
a  more  than  common  contempt  was  put 
on  the  commandments  of  (iod,  and  that 
m(!ii  had  reached  a  rare  point  of  insolence 
and  disobedience.  And  it  is  further 
manifest,  that,  when  wickedness  was 
thus  at  its  height,  i)avi<l  ex])ccled  that 
there  would  be  an  end  of  the  forbearance 
of  God,  and  that  he  would  at  length 
give  scope  to  his  righteous  indignation. 


"  It  is  time  for  thee,  Lord,  to  work  :  for 
they  have  made  void  thy  law."  As  much 
as  to  say,  men  have  ncjw  exceeded  the 
bounds  prescribed  to  long-suffering;  they 
have  outrun  the  limits  of  grace;  and 
now,  therefore,  God  must  interfere,  to 
vindicate  his  own  honor,  and  repress  the 
swellings  of  unrighteousness. 

This,  then,  is  the  first  truth  presented 
by  our  text — that  it  is  possible  to  go  so 
far  in  disobedience  that  it  will  be  neces- 
sary for  God  to  interpose  in  vengeance, 
and  visibly  withstand  men's  impiety. 
But  what  effect  w-ill  be  produced  on  a 
truly  righteous  man  by  this  extraordinary 
prevalence  of  inicjuity  1  Will  he  be  car- 
lied  away  by  the  current  of  evil  1  Will 
he  be  tempted,  by  the  universal  scorn 
whicli  he  sees  thrown  on  God's  law,  to 
think  slightingly  of  it  himself,  and  give 
it  less  of  his  reverence  and  attachment? 
On  the  contrary,  this  law  becomes  more 
precious  in  David's  sight,  in  proportion 
as  he  felt  that  it  was  so  despised  and  set 
aside,  that  the  time  for  God  to  work 
had  arrived.  You  observe  that  the 
verses  are  connected  by  the  word 
"  therefore."  "  They  have  made  void 
thy  law."  What  then  1  is  that  law  less 
esteemed  and  less  prized  by  myself? 
Quite  the  reverse ;  "  they  have  made 
void  thy  law ;  therefore  I  love  thy  com- 
mandments above  gold,  yea,  above  fine 
gold."  There  is  much  that  deserves 
our  closest  attention  in  this  connection 
between  the  verses.  It  is  a  high  point 
of  holiness  which  that  man  has  reached, 
whose  love  of  God's  commandments 
grows  with  the  contempt  which  all 
around  him  put  on  these  command- 
ments. This,  then,  is  the  second  truth 
presented  by  our  text, — that  there  is 
greater  reason  than  ever  for  our  prizing 
God's  law,  if  the  times  should  be  those 
in  which  that  law  is  mado  void.  So 
that  there  are  two  great  principles 
which  must  successively  engage  our 
attention  in  meditating  on  the  words 
which  form  our  subject  of  address. 
The  first  is,  that  there  is  a  point  in  hu- 
man inicjuity  at  which  it  is  necessary 
that  CJod  should  interfere;  the  second, 
that,  when  this  point  is  reached,  the 
righteous  are  more  than  ever  bound  to 
prize  and  love  the  law  of  the  Lord.  It 
will  be  our  endeavor  to  set  these  prin- 
ciples clearly  before  you,  and  to  examine 
them  in  their  several  bearings  and 
results. 


THROUGH  THE  MAKING  VOID  THE  T.\W. 


157 


No\"^,  in  one  of  those  visions  which 
God  vouchsafed  to  tlie  patriarch  Abra- 
ham, the  land  of  Canaan  was  promised 
to  liis  posterity,  but  a  distant  time  fixed 
for  their  taking  possession.  The  reason 
given  why  centuries  must  elapse  ere  they 
could  enter  on  the  inheritance,  is  every 
Tvay  remarkable.  "  In  the  fourth  gene 
ration  they  shall  come  hither  again  ;  for 
the  iniquity  of  the  Amoritcs  is  not  full." 
We  may  understand  the  Amorites  to  be 
put  here  generally  for  the  inhabitants 
of  Canaan,  whose  iniquities  were  grad- 
ually bringing  on  their  expulsion  and 
extermination.  And  though  even  these 
inhabitants  might  have  been  conspicuous 
in  idolatry  and  impiety,  they  had  not,  it 
appears,  yet  reached  that  measure  of 
guiltiness  which  was  to  mark  them  out 
for  vengeance.  "  The  iniquity  of  the 
Amorites,"  saith  God,  "is  not  yet  full; 
and,  therefore,  I  cannot  yet  give  com- 
mand for  their  destruction, — nay,  it  will 
not  be  until  the  fourth  generation  that  I 
can  dispossess  them  to  make  room  for 
my  people."  It  is  evident,  from  this 
instance,  that  in  the  exercise  of  his  long- 
suffering,  God  allows  nations  a  certain 
period  of  probation,  but  that  there  is  a 
point  up  to  which,  if  they  accumulate 
iniquity,  they  can  expect  nothing  but  an 
outbreak  of  indignation  and  punishment. 
It  was  not  yet  time  for  God  to  work,  in- 
asmuch as  the  Amorites,  though  disobe- 
dient to  his  law,  had  not  yet  gone  the 
length  of  making  it  void.  But  that  time 
would  arrive.  The  Amorites  would  ad- 
vance from  one  degree  of  sinfulness  to 
another,  and  the  children  would  but  add 
to  the  burden  of  misdoing  entailed  on 
them  by  profligate  fathers.  Then  would 
be  the  time  for  God  to  work  ;  and  then 
would  the  almighty  arise  in  his  fury, 
and  pT'ove,  by  the  vehemence  of  his 
dealings,  that  though  slow  to  anger,  he 
will  not  finally  acquit  the  wicked.  We 
need  not  remind  you  how  fearfully  this 
truth  was  exemplified  in  the  instance  of 
the  Amorites.  The  terrible  judgments 
at  length  inflicted  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  the  Israelites  are  known  to 
all,  and  show  clearly  that  punishment  is 
not  the  less  sure  because  long  delayed. 

You  have  the  same  truth  depicted  in 
the  case  of  the  Jews.  You  find  Christ, 
in  one  of  these  tremendous  denuncia- 
tions, which  are  the  more  awful,  because 
found  on  the  lips  of  him,  who, "  when 
be  was  reviled,  reviled  not  again,"  de- 


claring that  the  blood  of  all  the  prophets 
which  had  been  shed  iirom  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world,  should  be  required  of 
the  nation  he  addtx;ssed.  The  represen- 
tation is  here  the  same  as  in  the  instance 
of  the  Amorites.  The  Jews  had  been 
long  borne  with  ;  and  God,  though  often 
provoked  by  their  impieties  to  inflict 
lesser  punishments,  had  not  yet  gone 
the  length  of  casting  them  off"  as  a  na- 
tion. But  their  wickedness  was  not  for- 
gotten nor  overlooked,  because  yet  un- 
visited  with  the  extreme  of  indignation. 
Each  century  of  profligacy  had  only 
treasured  up  wrath  ;  and  Christ  bids  the 
abandoned  of  his  own  day  fill  up  the 
measure  of  their  fathers,  that  it  might 
at  last  be  time  for  God  to  work.  And 
when  the  time  came,  and  the  iniquity 
was  full,  then  it  appeared  that  it  is  a 
tremendous  thing  to  have  worn  out 
divine  patience  ;  for  wrath  fell  so  signal- 
ly and  so  fiercely  on  the  Jews,  that  their 
miseries  exceeded  those  which  their 
ancestors  had  dealt  to  the  Amorites. 

These  instances — and  it  were  easy  to 
adduce  more — sufficiently  prove  that 
God  keeps  what  we  may  call  a  reckon- 
ing with  nations,  and  that  there  is  a 
sum  total  of  guilt — though  it  be  out  of 
our  power  to  define  the  amount — which 
he  allows  not  to  be  passed  ;  but  which, 
when  reached,  draws  down  upon  the 
land  the  long-deferred  vengeance.  We 
say  that  it  is  out  of  our  power  to  define 
the  amount,  for  we  know  not  precisely 
that  point  in  iniquity  at  which  it  may  be 
said  that  God's  law  is  made  void.  But 
it  is  comparatively  unimportant  that  we 
ascertain  the  exact  amount  of  guilt  which 
becomes  such  a  mill-stone  round  the  neck 
of  a  people,  that  they  are  dragged  into 
the  depths  of  disaster  and  wretchedness. 
It  is  sufiicient  to  know  that  God  takes 
account  of  what  is  done  on  the  earth, 
and  that  he  charges  on  one  generation 
the  crimes  of  a  preceding.  It  is  enough 
for  all  practical  purposes,  that  we  can 
prove  there  are  limits  to  the  forbearance 
of  the  Almighty;  and  that  consequently 
it  is  either  ignorance  or  insanity  which 
would  count  on  impunity,  because  there 
is  delay.  We  say  that  this  is  enough  ; 
for  this  should  make  every  true  lover  of 
his  country  eager  to  diminish  the  sum 
total  of  national  guiltiness.  It  matters 
nothing  whether  we  can  tell,  in  any 
given  instance,  by  how  many  fractions 
the  sum  is  yet  below  that  amount  at 
33 


>58 


THE   DIVINE   PATIENCE    EXHAUSTED 


which  it  must  he  met  hy  commensurate 
■vengeance.  The  grand  thing  is,  that 
we  ascertain  a  principle  in  the  Divine 
deahngs,  llie  principle  that  there  is  a 
register  kept  of  the  impieties  of  a  land, 
and  that,  too,  with  the  unerring  accuracy 
of  the  omniscient ;  and  that  though,  as  the 
figures  go  on  rapidly  accumulating,  God 
may  bear  with  the  land,  and  ply  it  with 
calls  to  repentance  and  overtures  of  for- 
giveness, yet  when  those  figures  present 
a  certain  array,  they  serve  as  a  signal  to 
the  ministry  of  wrath,  and  mark  that 
there  are  no  sands  left  in  the  glass  of 
Divine  patience.  And  when  we  have 
determined  this  principle,  how  clear, 
how  imperative,  the  duty  of  laboring  to 
strike  oft' some  figures,  and  thus  to  gain 
further  respite  for  a  country  whose  re- 
gister may  be  fast  approaching  the  fatal 
amount.  We  know  of  a  land  for  which 
God  hath  done  more  than  for  any  other 
on  which  the  sun  shines,  as  he  makes 
the  circuit  of  the  globe.  It  is  a  land 
which  hath  been  marvellously  preserved 
from  the  incursions  of  enemies,  and 
whose  valleys,  whilst  the  rest  of  the  earth 
was  turned  into  one  vast  battle-plain, 
never  echoed  with  the  tocsin  of  war. 
It  is  a  land  which,  though  inconsiderable 
in  itself,  has  been  raised  to  a  greatness 
unequalled  among  nations,  whose  fame 
is  on  every  shore,  whose  fleets  on  every 
sea,  and  whose  resources  have  seemed 
so  to  grow  with  the  demand,  that  every 
trial  has  but  developed  the  unsuspected 
strength.  And  it  is  little  that  this  land, 
by  prowess  in  arms,  and  wisdom  in  de- 
bate, has  won  itself  a  name  of  the 
mightiest  renown,  subdued  kingdoms, 
planted  colonies,  and  gathered  into  its 
harbors  the  commerce  of  the  world. 
"We  know  yet  greater  things  of  this  land. 
We  know  that  Christianity,  in  all  its 
purity,  is  publicly  taught  as  the  religion 
of  the  land;  that  in  its  churches  is  pro- 
claimed the  life-giving  doctrine  of  the 
"  one  Mediator  between  God  and  man  ;" 
and  that  its  civil  institutions  have  all  that 
beauty,  and  all  that  exj)ansivcncss,  which 
nothing  but  the  (jospcl  of  Christ  was 
ever  y(;t  able  to  produce  or  preserve. 
But  we  have  our  fears — oh,  more  than 
our  fears, — regard  of  this  land,  that, 
whilst  it  has  thus  been  the  recipient  of 
unrivalled  mercies,  whilst  Providence 
has  watched  over  it,  and  shielded  it, 
■and  poured  upon  it  all  that  was  choicest 
in  the  treasure-house  of  heaven,   tlicre 


have  been  an  ingratitude,  and  a  con- 
tempt of  the  Benefactor,  and  a  grow- 
ing distaste  for  religion,  and  a  pride, 
and  a  covetousness,  and  a  luxury,  which 
have  written  many  and  large  figures  in 
the  register  which  God  keeps  of  na- 
tions ;  so  that,  though  the  land  is  still 
home  Avith,  yea,  abundantly  blessed,  it 
has  made  vast  approaches  towards  that 
fulness  of  iniquity  which  the  Amoritea 
reached,  and  which  the  Israelites  reach- 
ed, but  reached  only  to  perish.  God 
forbid  that  we  should  say  of  the  land  to 
which  we  have  referred,  whatever  its 
sins,  that  as  yet  it  hath  made  void  the 
law  of  its  Maker.  We  hope  that  there 
is  yet  such  vigor  in  its  piety  as  will  give 
fixedness  to  what  is  venerable  and  pre- 
cious in  its  institutions.  But  we  are 
sure  that  with  the  purity  of  its  Christian- 
ity must  stand  or  fall  the  majesty  of  its 
empire.  We  are  sure  that  it  is,  as  the 
home  of  protestantism,  the  centre  of 
truth  ;  that  God  hath  honored  and  upheld 
the  land  of  which  we  speak ;  and  that 
the  rapid  way  of  multiplying  the  figures, 
which  may  already  be  portentous  in  its 
account,  would  be  the  surrendering  its 
protestantism,  and  the  giving,  in  any 
way,  countenance  to  popery.  Oh,  if  it 
could  ever  come  to  pass,  that,  acting  on 
the  principle  of  a  short-sighted  policy, 
the  rulers  of  the  land  in  question  should 
restore  his  lost  ascendancy  to  the  man 
of  sin,  and  take  under  the  care  and  pro- 
tection of  the  state  that  religion  which 
prophecy  has  unequivocally  denounced, 
and  in  wiiting  against  which  a  pious  an- 
cestry met  death  in  its  most  terrible 
shapes ;  then,  indeed,  may  we  think, 
the  measure  of  the  guilt  would  be  full ; 
then,  in  the  national  apostacy  might  be 
read  the  advance  of  national  ruin — yea, 
then,  wc  believe — the  protest  of  a  wit- 
ness for  truth  being  no  longer  given — 
there  would  be  heard  a  voice,  issui.ng 
from  the  graves  of  martyrs  and  confes- 
sors with  wliich  the  land  is  covered, 
and  from  the  souls  which  St.  John  saw 
beneath  the  altar  when  the  fifth  seal 
was  opened,  "  that  were  slain  fnv  the 
word  of  God,  ^nd  for  the  testimony 
which  they  held ;  "  and  these  would  be 
the  words  which  the  voice  would  utter : 
"  It  is  time  for  thee,  Lord,  to  work  :  for 
tlicy  have  made  void  thy  law." 

But  we  do  not  suppose  that  these 
words  should  be  interpreted  with  refe- 
rence only  to  that  point  in  national  guilt 


THROUGH  THE  MAKING  VOID  THE  LAW. 


259 


at  which  God  is  moved  to  interfere  in 
vengeance.  Vengeance  is  one  way  in 
which  God  works  ;  but  it  is  a  way  of 
wliich  we  may  declare,  that  it  is  forced 
upon  God,  and  not  resorted  to  without 
the  greatest  reluctance.  We  find  these 
expressions  in  the  prophecies  of  Isaiah  ; 
"  The  Lord  shall  rise  up  as  in  Mount 
Perazim,  he  shall  be  wroth  as  in  the 
valley  of  Gibeon,  that  he  may  do  his 
work,  his  strange  work,  and  bring  to 
pass  his  act,  his  strange  act."  You  ob- 
serve, the  work  of  wrath  is  a  strange 
work,  and  the  act  of  punishment  is  a 
strange  act.  God  strikes,  but  the  strik- 
ing might  almost  be  declared  foreign  to 
his  nature ;  it  is  necessary  for  the  vin- 
dication of  his  attributes,  but  can  hard- 
ly be  said  to  be  congenial  with  them. 
There  is  much  in  this  to  encourage  the 
penitent,  but  not  the  presumptuous. 
God  may  be  loth  to  punish,  but  never- 
theless he  will  punish  ;  and  I  am  only 
impressed  with  a  greater  sense  of  the 
tremendousness  of  divine  wrath,  when 
I  find  that  the  bringing  it  into  act  is  an 
effort  even  to  the  Omnipotent.  How 
weighty  must  that  be  which  God  him- 
self has  difficulty  in  raising! 

There  are,  however,  other  ways  in 
which  God  works,  when  moved  by  the 
making  void  of  his  law.  It  is  curious 
and  interesting  to  observe  how  God, 
from  the  first,  has  been  mindful  of  what 
passes  on  the  earth,  and  how  he  has  in- 
terposed just  when  a  crisis  has  demand- 
ed the  interposition.  When  our  first 
pai'ents  fell,  his  law  was  emphatically 
made  void ;  and  then  there  appearing 
no  alternative  to  the  destruction  of  our 
race,  it  was  time  for  God  to  work;  the 
exigence  could  be  met  by  nothing  but 
a  divine  interference,  and  God  gracious- 
ly worked  as  a  deliverer.  And  after- 
wards the  notices  of  traditional  religion 
were  soon  so  obscured  and  weakened, 
that  there  was  danger  of  all  remembrance 
of  its  Maker  perishing  from  the  globe. 
The  law  was  so  made  void,  and  wicked- 
ness had  reached  such  a  height,  that  it 
was  time  for  God  to  work  in  vengeance ; 
and  accordingly  he  brought  a  flood  upon 
the  earth,  and  swept  away  thousands  of 
the  ungodly.  But  whilst  working  in  ven- 
geance, he  worked  also  in  mercy,  and, 
saving  Noah  and  his  family,  provided 
that  the  world  should  be  re-peopled, 
and  that  there  should  be  myriads  for  his 
Son  to  redeem.     And  then,  if  he  had  left 


the  earth  to  itself,  it  would  have  beea 
quickly  overspread  with  idolatry,  and 
all  flesh  have  become  corrupt  as  it  was 
before  the  flood.  But  here  again  it  was 
time  for  God  to  work,  and  he  set  apart 
one  family  for  himself,  and  through  its 
instrumentality  preserved  mankind  from 
total  degeneracy,  until  the  period  of 
the  incarnation  arrived.  It  may  be  af- 
firmed also,  that  this  period  was  one  at 
which  the  necessity  for  divine  interfer- 
ence had  become  strongly  marked.  We 
learn  from  St.  Paul,  that,  "  after  that, 
in  the  wisdom  of  God,  the  world  by 
wisdom  knew  not  God,  it  pleased  God, 
by  the  foolishness  of  preaching,  to  save 
them  that  believe."  So  that  it  appears, 
that,  through  successive  centuries  of 
heathenism,  there  had  been  carried  on 
an  experiment,  not  for  the  satisfaction 
of  God,  who  knows  the  end  from  the 
beginning,  but  for  the  conviction  of  men 
who  are  prone  to  magnify  their  powers  ; 
and  that  the  object  of  this  experiment 
had  been  the  ascertaining  whether,  by 
its  own  wisdom,  the  world  could  acquire 
a  sound  knowledge  of  its  Maker.  And 
the  apostle  declares  that,  when  Christ 
came,  the  experiment  had  been  fully 
made,  and  that  its  result  was  completely 
against  the  boasted  strength  of  reason. 
So  that  here  again  it  was  time  for  God 
to  work.  Reason  had  proved  itself 
quite  incompetent  to  the  producing  right 
notions  of  God,  and  therefore  a  just 
estimate  of  his  law;  and  now,  then,  the 
law  being  altogether  made  void,  it  was 
time  for  God  to  work  through  a  new 
revelation  of  himself.  And  certainly 
you  can  have  little  difficulty  in  determin- 
ing for  yourselves,  that  in  regard  of  the 
christian  church,  God  has  acted  on  the 
principle  laid  down  in  our  text.  How 
often  has  he  allowed  matters  to  come, 
as  it  were,  to  an  extremity,  in  order 
that  there  might  be  a  clear  need  of  his 
interference,  and  then  has  he  arisen 
mightily  to  the  succor  of  the  perishing. 
In  earlier  days  he  permitted  persecution 
to  make  great  havoc  with  the  church, 
so  that  Satan  seemed  often  on  the  point 
of  effecting  the  extirpation  of  Christianity. 
But  it  was  soon  found  that  a  season  of 
depression  ushered  in  one  of  triumph, 
and  that  the  church  was  brought  low, 
that  she  might  be  more  signally  exalted. 
And  when  we  survey  Christianity,  in 
its  first  struggles  with  heathenism,  re- 
duced often  to  so  languid  a   condition 


260 


THE  DIVINE  PATIE.NCE  EXHAUSTED 


that  there  seemed  nothing  to  be  looked 
for  but  its  total  extinction,  and  then  sud- 
denly rising  in  greater  brilliancy  and 
purity,  \vc  can  only  say  that  (iod  there- 
by jjroved  that  he  reserves  liis  gracious 
interpositions  for  exigencies  when  their 
necessity  cannot  be  denied,  and  that  he 
acts  on  the  principle,  that,  when  men 
make  void  his  law,  then  it  is  time  lor 
him  to  work. 

Neither  is  there  any  cause  for  surprise 
that  such  should  be  a  principle  in  the 
divine  dispensations.  You  must  own 
that  when,  on  all  human  calculations, 
the  case  is  desperate,  the  interference 
of  God  will  be  more  distinctly  recog- 
nized, and  the  likelihood  is  less  of  his 
being  robbed  of  the  honor  due  unto  his 
name.  Hence  it  might  be  expected  that 
God  would  choose  those  times  for  inter- 
position at  which  it  was  most  evident 
that  no  power  but  a  divine  could  suilice, 
in  order  to  counteract  that  pioneness, 
of  which  the  best  must  be  conscious,  to 
ascribe  to  second  causes  what  should  be 
refoned  only  to  the  first.  We  may  add 
to  this,  that,  in  the  hour  of  the  chuich's 
de})ression  and  danger,  there  will  be 
more  fervent  prayer  on  her  behalf  from 
the  yet  faithful  remnant;  and  we  know 
that  God  delights  to  answer  the  earnest 
supplications  of  his  people.  And  it  is 
under  this  point  of  view  that  our  text 
should  encourage  us,  as  much  as  it 
alarms  others.  We  have  shown  you 
that  there  is  an  amount  of  guiltiness,  de- 
fined by  the  making  void  of  God's  law, 
which  provokes  the  Almighty  to  come 
forth  as  an  avenger.  But  we  now  show 
you  that  it  is  not  only  as  an  avenger, 
but  equally  as  a  protector,  that  God  ap- 
pears in  days  when  his  law  is  made  void 
upon  earth.  These  are  days  when  the 
righteous  will  be  stirred  by  the  abound- 
ings  of  ini(]uity  to  greater  diligence  in 
prayer;  and  God  has  promised  that  he 
will  "  avenge  his  own  elect  which  cry 
day  and  niglit  unto  him,  though  he  bear 
long  with  them."  You  see,  then,  what 
your  duty  is,  if  your  lot  be  cast  in  times 
when  there  seems  danger  that  truth  will 
be  overborne  by  falsuliood.  Our  text 
instructs  you  a.s  to  the  form  into  which 
to  sha|)e  your  petitions.  We  have  Spo- 
ken already  of  a  land  over  which,  as  the 
de[)Ository  of  the  pure  religion  of  (.Mirist, 
has  been  spread  for  long  years  the  shield 
of  divine  favor.  We  have  spoken  of 
the  despeiato  jeopardy    in    which    that 


land  would  be  placed,  if  its  legislalnro 
should  so  abjure  the  principles  of  protes- 
tantism as  to  give  countenance  and  sup- 
poit  to  the  Roman  apostacy.  It  would 
be  time  for  God  to  work  in  indignation 
and  vengeance,  if  a  people,  whom  he  hath 
marvellously  deliveied  from  the  bondage 
of  popery,  and  whom  he  stiengthened 
to  throw  oH'  a  yoke  which  had  kept  down 
their  immortality,  should  give  vigor,  by 
any  national  act,  to  the  corrupt  faith  of 
Rome,  and  thus  reanimate  the  tyranny 
which  waits  but  a  touch,  and  it  will  start 
again  into  despotism.  But  we  know 
what  would  be  the  business  cf  all  the 
righteous  in  that  land,  if  they  saw  signs 
of  the  approach  of  such  peril.  We 
know  that  It  would  not  become  them  to 
sit  in  calm  expectation  of  the  ruin,  com- 
forting themselves  with  the  belief  that 
God  would  shelter  his  own  people  in 
the  day  of  indignation.  It  would  bo 
their  business  to  recall  the  memory  of 
former  deliverances,  and  to  bear  in 
mind  how  God  has  always  chosen  ex- 
tremities vvlien  there  seemed  least  hope 
that  ruin  would  be  averted,  for  the  man- 
ifestations of  his  care  over  his  church.  It 
would  be  their  business  to  remember, 
and  to  act  on  the  remembrance,  that  the 
time  for  God,  in  every  sense,  to  work, 
is  the  time  at  which  men  are  making 
void  his  law.  And  we  have  a  confidence 
in  "  the  effectual  fervent  prayer  of  a 
righteous  man,"  which  forbids  our  des- 
pairing of  any  land,  within  whose  con- 
fines are  yet  found  the  believing  and 
prayerful.  If  the  presence  of  ten  right- 
eous would  have  turned  away  the  fire 
and  brimstone  from  the  guilty  cities  of 
the  plain,  we  shall  not  reckon  the  doom 
of  any  country  sealed,  so  long  as  wo 
know  that  it  is  not  destitute  of  the 
leaven  of  godliness,  but  that  there  are 
among  its  inhabitants  wlio  view,  in  a 
season  of  danger,  a  season  when  they 
may  go,  with  special  conlidetice,  to  the 
mercy-seat,  and  plead,  "  It  is  lin)e  for 
thee,  Lord,  to  work."  The  heaits  of 
statesmen  are  in  the  hands  of  God,  and 
the  passions  of  the  turbulent  and  dis- 
affected are  under  his  govei-nance,  and 
the  designs  of  the  enemies  of  his  church 
are  all  subject  to  his  over-rulit)g  ])rovi- 
dence  ;  and  prayer  moves  the  arm  which 
marshals  stars,  and  calm.-'  tlrt^  <;reat  deep, 
and  directs  the  motions  of  disordered 
wills.  Why,  then,  shoidd  we  despair 
for  a  land,  unless  assured  that  patriotism 


THROUGH  THE  MAKING  VOID  THE  LAW. 


261 


has  become  dissociated  from  righteous- 
ness, and  that  they,  whose  privilege  it 
is  to  I'.ave  access  to  the  Father  through 
the  Mediator,  Christ,  and  to  whom  the 
promise  has  been  made  by  the  Savior, 
"  Whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  the  Father  in 
my  name,  he  will  give  it  you,"  have  so 
far  turned  traitors  as  to  remember  not 
their  country  in  their  petitions?  If, 
indeed,  in  the  land  of  which  we  have 
6poken,  a  protestant  goverment  were  so 
to  sacrifice  every  principle  which  enters 
into  its  constitution,  as  to  make  provi- 
sion for  the  propagation  of  papal  false- 
hood and  delusion,  we  might  justly  fear 
that  the  time  for  intercession  had  pas- 
sed, and  that  God  must  hearken  to  the 
voice  pealing  forth  from  the  sepulchre 
of  martyred  thousands,  and  from  the 
souls  beneath  the  altar,  telling  him 
the  time  was  come  fur  him  to  work  as 
an  avenger.  But  so  long,  at  least,  as 
the  land  held  fast  its  protestantism,  and 
there  was  only  the  threatening  of  its 
being  surrendered,  we  should  feel  that  a 
vast  responsibility  was  laid  upon  the 
men  of  prayer  and  upon  the  women  of 
prayer,  throughout  that  land.  Ay,  and 
we  should  hope  that  the  days  of  its  hap- 
piness and  its  greatness  were  not  num- 
bered, and  that  measures,  fraught  with 
Its  desolation,  because  involving  the 
compromise  of  its  Christianity,  would 
never  be  permitted  to  be  enacted  and 
enforced,  if  we  knew  that  these  men 
and  these  women  were  urgent  in  the 
business  of  supplication,  and  that  from 
beneath  every  roof  which  gave  shelter 
to  God-fearing  individuals,  in  the  city, 
in  the  village,  on  the  mountain,  in  the 
valley,  was  issuing  the  cry,  "  It  is  time 
for  thee.  Lord,  to  work  as  a  Protector, 
for  they  are  making  void  thy  law." 

Now  we  are  so  pressed  by  the  re- 
mainder of  our  great  subject  of  dis- 
course, that  we  are  compelled  to  pass 
by  much  on  which  we  wish  to  enlarge. 
It  is  evident  that  the  portion  of  our 
text,  on  which  we  have  hitherto  spo- 
ken, admits  of  an  individual,  as  well 
as  a  national,  application.  We  might 
speak  to  you  of  limits  to  the  divine 
forbearance,  when  any  one  amongst  our- 
selves is  regarded  as  the  object  of  its 
exercise  ;  and  show  you,  consequently, 
the  madness  of  our  presuming  on  long- 
suffering,  as  though  it  could  not  be  ex- 
hausted. We  might  enlarge  also  on 
the  personal  encouragement  which  the 


text  gives  to  those  who  put  trust  in 
God  ;  inasmuch  as  we  perceive  that  the 
being  brought  into  circumstances  of 
unusual  danger  and  distress,  in  place  of 
causing  despondency,  should  give  occa- 
sion for  greater  hope,  the  hour  of  special 
tribulation  being  ordinarily  chosen  by 
God  as  the  hour  of  his  choicest  mani- 
festations. 

We  must,  however,  refer  these  con- 
siderations to  your  private  meditations, 
though  it  will  be  evident  to  those  who 
trace  carefully  the  connection  of  the 
several  parts  of  our  discourse,  that  they 
enter,  in  a  degree,  into  what  has  vet  to 
be  advanced. 

The  second  great  truth  presented  by 
our  text,  and  which  we  have  now  to 
examine,  is  that,  when  the  point  in  ini- 
quity is  reached  at  which  God's  inter- 
ference becomes  necessary,  the  right- 
eous are  more  than  ever  bound  to 
prize  and  love  the  law  of  the  Lord. 
We  derive  this  truth,  as  we  have  be- 
fore said,  from  the  connection  between 
the  verses.  When  David  has  declared 
that  it  is  time  for  God  to  work,  since  the 
law  was  made  void,  he  adds,  "There- 
fore I  love  thy  commandments  above 
gold,  yea,  above  fine  gold," — clearly 
implying,  that  the  contempt  put  on 
God's  law  was  an  additional  motive  to 
his  giving  that  law  his  esteem  and  af- 
fection. And  it  is  of  great  importance 
we  determine  on  what  principles  David 
proceeded  in  making  this  decision,  or 
what  reason  were  on  his  side  when 
he  valued  the  commandments,  because 
made  void  by  others.  It  caimot  be  de- 
nied, as  we  have  already  intimated, 
that  it  is  a  high  point  in  holiness  which 
the  Psalmist  is  hereby  proved  to  have 
reached.  We  must  own,  in  respect  of 
ourselves,  that  we  find  it  hard  to  con- 
fess Christ,  and  declare  ourselves  his 
followers,  in  the  face  of  a  vehement  and 
growing  opposition. 

In  sketching  the  characteristics  and 
occurrences  which  should  mark  the  ap- 
proach of  the  second  advent,  the  Savior 
uttered  this  prediction.  "And  because 
iniquity  shall  abound,  the  love  of  many 
shall  wax  cold."  He  knew  what  a  par- 
alyzing and  deadening  influence  would 
be  exerted  over  piety  by  multiplied 
wickedness,  and  how  sickly  and  dwarfish, 
for  the  most  part,  would  Christianity 
become,  when  the  soil  and  the  atmo- 
sphere were  saturated  with  unrighteous- 


262 


THE  DinXE  PATIENCE  EXHAUSTED 


nes3.  And  the  event  has  but  too  faith- 
fully borne  out  the  prediction.  It  is  at 
all  times  diihcult  to  hold  fast  the  christian 
profession.  But  the  dithculty  is  a  hun- 
dred-fold augmented,  when  it  must  be 
held  fast  with  few  or  none  to  keep  us  in 
countenance,  and  when  to  dare  to  be 
religious  is  to  dare  the  opposition  of  a 
neighborhood.  And  it  is  but  too  possi- 
ble that  much  of  the  Christianity  which 
passes  muster  in  our  own  day,  and  wins 
Itself  a  reputation  for  soundness  and 
stanchness,  is  indebted  for  its  very  exis- 
tence to  the  absence  of  persecution ; 
and  that,  if  there  came  days  in  which 
God's  law  was  made  void,  and  the  church 
was  sifted  by  fiery  trial,  a  great  propor- 
tion of  what  appears  genuine  and  stead- 
fast would  prove  its  hollowness  by  de- 
fection, in  place  of  being  strengthened 
and  confirmed  by  opposition. 

But  however  this  be,  we  may  declare 
of  the  truly  religious,  that  they  have  in- 
ci'eased  cause  for  prizing  and  adhering 
to  God's  law,  if  the  days  in  which  they 
live  be  days  in  which  iniquity  is  more 
than  ordinarily  prevalent.  It  is  too  ob- 
vious, in  the  first  place,  to  be  overlooked, 
that,  in  days  such  as  these,  there  is  the 
very  finest  opportunity  of  giving  honor 
to  God.  To  love  his  commandments 
above  gold,  whilst  others  count  them 
but  dross,  is  to  display  a  noble  zeal  for 
his  glory,  and  to  appear  as  the  cham- 
pions of  his  cause,  when  that  cause  is  on 
the  point  of  being  universally  deserted. 
The  promise  moreover  runs,  "Themthat 
honor  me,  I  will  honor  ;"  and  tlie  season, 
therefore,  in  which  the  greatest  honor 
may  be  given  to  God,  is  that  also  in 
which  the  most  of  future  glory  may  be 
secured  by  the  righteous.  What  then, 
the  Psalmist  seems  to  ask — would  you 
have  me  less  fervent  in  attachment  to 
God's  law,  because  the  making  void  of 
that  law  has  rendered  it  a  time  for  God 
to  work]  What,  shall  I  choose  that 
moment  for  turning  traitor  when  God 
will  bo  most  glorified,  and  myself  most 
advantaged,  by  loyalty  1  What,  relax 
in  devotedness,  just  when,  by  muititain- 
ing  my  allegiance,  I  may  bear  the  no- 
blest testinKjiiy,  and  gain  the  highest  re- 
compense ]  Oh,  where  the  heart  has 
been  given  to  Gtnl,  and  fixed  on  the 
glories  of  heaven,  there  should  be  a 
feeling  that  days,  in  which  religion  is 
most  decried  and  derided,  are  days  in 
which  zeal  should  be  warmest,  and  pro- 


fession most  unflinching.  To  adhere 
boldly  to  the  cause  of  righteousness, 
when  almost  solitary  in  adherence,  is 
to  fight  the  battle  when  champions  are 
most  needed,  and  when  therefore  vic- 
tory will  be  most  triumphant.  Let  then, 
saith  the  psalmist,  the  times  be  times 
of  universal  defection  from  godliness 
— I  will  gather  warmth  from  the  cold- 
ness of  others,  courage  from  their 
cowardice,  loyalty  from  their  treason. 
Indeed,  as  I  gaze  on  what  is  passing 
around  me,  I  cannot  but  observe  that 
thy  law,  O  God,  is  made  void,  and  that 
it  is  therefore  time  for  thee  to  work. 
But  I  am  not  on  this  account  shaken  in 
attachment  to  thy  service.  On  the  con- 
trary, thy  law  seems  to  me  more  pre- 
cious than  ever,  for  in  now  keeping 
thy  commandments  I  can  give  thee 
greater  glory,  and  find  greater  reward. 
What  then  1  it  may  be  that  they  have 
made  void  thy  law ;  but  from  my  heart 
I  can  say,  "  therefore,  on  that  very  ac- 
cont,  I  love  thy  commandments  above 
gold,  yea,  above  fine  gold." 

It  may  be  said,  however,  that  though 
we  thus  give  a  reason  why  David  should 
have  been  more  earnest  in  holding  fast 
his  profession,  we  scarcely  touch  the 
point  why  the  commandments  them- 
selves should  have  been  more  precious 
in  his  sight.  But  it  is  not  difficult  to 
explain  the  connection  between  the 
verses,  even  if  it  be  simply  the  love  of 
God's  law  which  we  suppose  increased 
by  the  prevalence  of  impiety.  We 
know,  beyond  all  peradventure,  that 
the  only  remedy  for  the  multiplied  dis- 
orders of  this  creation  is  to  be  found 
in  conformity  to  the  revealed  will  of 
God.  We  are  sure,  whatever  schemes 
may  be  devised  for  the  amelioration  of 
human  condition,  that  the  happiness  of 
a  people  is  closely  bound  up  with  its 
righteousness,  and  that  tho  gi'cater  the 
departure  from  God  the  greater  the 
misery  introduced  into  its  families.  It 
is  no  unwarranted  assertion,  but  one 
which  will  stand  every  test  to  which  it 
can  fairly  be  brought,  that  the  decline 
of  a  nation's  prosperity  keeps  pace  with 
the  decline  of  its  piety,  and  tliat  in 
banishing  tiuc  religion  you  banish  tho 
chief  elements  of  its  greatness  and  se- 
curity. 

And  what  is  the  condition  of  a  land, 
wluiu  its  inhabitants  have  litendly  made 
void  God's  law  ]     The  experiment  was 


THROUGH  THE  MAKING  VOID  THK  LAU. 


263 


tried  in  the  heart  of  civilized  Europe  ; 
and  we  all  know  what  fearful  scones 
were  enacted  on  the  stage  of  revolution- 
ized France,  when  atheism  was  tlie 
<nly  creed  which  the  nation  would  pro- 
less.  We  have  no  instance  in  history 
of  a  people  throwing  equal  scorn  on 
their  Creator,  and  neither  have  we  any 
of  a  people  being  plunged  in  equal 
depths  of  misery.  There  was  then  giv- 
en a  demonstration,  never  to  be  forgot- 
ten, that  to  throw  off  the  restraints  of 
religion  is  to  proclaim  the  carnival  of 
anarchy  and  bloodshed ;  and  that  the 
getting  quit  of  the  fear  of  God  is  the 
surest  mode  of  undermining  govern- 
ment, invading  the  rights  of  property, 
and  turning  a  civilized  people  into  a 
horde  of  bai'barians  and  assassins.  But 
if  such  be  the  consequence  of  making 
void  God's  law,  what  effect  will  be 
wrought  upon  the  few  by  whom  that 
law  is  yet  reverenced  and  prized.  Cer- 
tainly, not  that  they  will  love  the  law 
less,  but  rather  that  they  will  love  it 
more.  If  I  saw  thousands  writhing  in 
incurable  agony,  and  could  trace  the 
tremendous  disease  to  the  gradual  dis- 
use, and,  at  length,  final  rejection  of  a 
medicine,  beyond  all  doubt  that  medi- 
cine would  appear  to  me  more  precious 
than  ever ;  and  it  would  be  from  the 
throwing  away  of  this  medicine  tliat  I 
best  learnt  its  value.  In  like  manner, 
if  I  can  see  that  the  making  void  God's 
law  is  the  most  effectual  mode  of  cov- 
ering a  land  with  wretchedness,  unques- 
tionably it  is  in  the  being  made  void 
that  this  law  displays  its  claims  to  my 
attachment.  And  if,  therefore,  we  lived 
in  times  when  a  mighty  infidelity  was 
pervading  our  cities  and  our  villages, 
and  men  were  advancing  by  rapid  strides 
towards  an  open  contempt,  or  denial  of 
God ;  the  divine  law,  if  we  had  ever 
learnt  to  prize  it,  would  commend  itself 
increasingly  to  our  affections  as  impiety 
went  onward  to  its  consummation.  We 
should  more  and  more  recognize  the 
power  of  this  law  to  confer  happiness 
because  we  should  more  and  more  ob- 
serve how  the  despising  it  produced 
misery.  We  should  more  and  more 
perceive  in  it  an  engine  for  counterac- 
ting human  degeneracy,  because  there 
would  be,  on  all  sides,  the  material  of 
conviction,  that,  in  setting  it  aside,  men 
sank  to  the  lowest  level  of  degradation. 
We  should  more  and  more  regard  it  as 


the  best  boon  which  God  had  conferred 
on  this  creation,  because  we  should 
increasingly  discover  that  it  could  only 
be  removed  by  substituting  a  fearful 
curse  in  its  stead.  And  would  not  then 
this  law  appear  more  deserving  than 
ever  of  our  veneration  aud  attachment  1 
If  we  ever  before  prized  it  above  gold, 
should  we  not  now  prize  it  above  fine 
gold  ]  There  are  two  ways  in  which 
the  commandments  of  God  prove  equal- 
ly their  excellence — by  the  blessed  re- 
sults which  follow  on  obedience,  and  by 
the  tremendous  results  which  follow  on 
disobedience.  The  former  are  to  be 
seen  when  the  law  is  observed,  the  lat- 
ter when  that  law  is  made  void.  But 
since,  in  each  case,  the  same  truth  is 
exhibited — that  of  the  power  of  the  law 
to  confer  happiness — in  each  case,  the 
same  reason  is  given  why  the  law  should 
be  increasingly  the  object  of  our  love. 

We  will  take  a  simple  instance,  and 
gather  from  it  the  principle  on  which 
we  now  insist.  A  young  person  is  born 
of  religious  parents,  and  educated  in 
the  fear  of  the  almighty.  But  the  fa- 
ther and  mother  have  been  gathered  to 
the  grave,  and  the  temptations  of  the 
world  prevail  over  their  instructions, 
and  the  child  becomes  the  irreligious 
and  profligate.  He  passes  from  one 
degree  of  wickedness  to  another,  till 
at  length,  as  the  perpetrator  of  some 
fearful  crime,  he  waits  the  shame  of  a 
public  execution.  And  in  this  condi- 
tion he  is  visited  by  a  clergyman,  who 
perhaps  remembers  the  days  of  his 
youth,  whilst  his  honored  parents  were 
yet  alive,  and  himself  an  inmate  of  the 
village-school.  It  is  a  grievous  and 
sickening  spectacle,  that  of  one  who 
was  cradled  in  piety,  and  into  whose 
opening  intelligence  were  distilled  the 
precepts  of  righteousness,  thus  lying  as 
an  outcast,  branded  with  indignity,  and 
expecting  the  penalty  of  death.  And 
the  minister  asks  of  him  the  history  of 
his  guilt,  how  it  came  to  pass  that  he 
wandered  so  far,  and  so  fatally  from  up- 
rightness. The  whole  is  traced  to  neg- 
lect of  the  commandments  of  God, — a 
neglect  which  began  perhaps  in  minor 
points,  but  rapidly  increased  till  the 
whole  law  was  made  void.  And  we 
shall  not  attempt  to  tell  you  with  what 
bitterness  of  soul,  and  what  iutenseness 
of  self-reproach,  the  ciiminal  recalls  the 
dying  looks  and  words  of  his  parents, 


26i 


THE   DIVINE    PATIENCE    EXHAUSTED 


Es  they  bequeathed  him  the  Bible  as  liis  '■ 
best  treasuie,  and  besouglit  him  witli 
many  tears,  to  take  its  precepts  as  his 
guide.  The  uppermost  and  crushiii!^ 
feeHo'j^s  in  his  spirit  is,  that,  had  he  fol- 
lowed tlic  parting  advice  of  his  fatlier 
and  motlier,  he  would  have  lived  honor- 
ably and  hapjiily,  and  would  never  have 
thus  become  a  byword  and  an  execra- 
tion ;  every  thing  earthly  shipwrecked, 
and  nothing  heavenly  secured.  But  we 
only  want  to  know  what  would  be  the 
thoughts  of  the  minister  in  regard  of 
God's  commandments,  as  he  retired 
from  the  cell  where  he  had  delivered 
the  messages  of  the  Gospel.  He  has 
been  looking  on  an  instance  of  the  con- 
sequences of  making  void  the  divine 
law.  He  cannot  but  contrast  what  the 
criminal  is,  with  what  he  would  have 
been,  had  he  not  made  void  that  law. 
And  does  he  not  gather  from  the  con- 
trast a  higher  sense  than  he  had  before 
entertained  of  the  excellence  of  that 
law,  and  of  its  might  in  contributing  to 
the  present,  as  well  as  future  welfare  of 
mankind  1  We  can  quite  believe  that, 
as  he  retreated  from  the  overpowering 
scene,  his  mind  agonized  by  the  thought 
that  one,  of  whom  he  had  augured  well, 
was  thus  hopelessly  reduced  to  a  deso- 
late and  ruined  thing,  the  value  of  God's 
law,  as  a  rule  of  human  conduct,  and  a 
safeguard  of  human  happiness,  would 
be  felt  by  him  in  a  degree  which  he 
had  never  yet  experienced  ;  and  that  it 
would  be  into  such  a  form  as  this  that 
his  reflections  would  shape  themselves, 
— indeed.  Lord,  he  hath  made  void  thy 
law ;  therefore,  as  for  me,  "  therefore 
I  love  thy  commandments  above  gold, 
yea,  above  fine  gold." 

Now  it  is  not  difficult  thus  to  trace 
a  connection  between  the  making  void 
of  God's  law,  and  the  heightened  love 
which  the  righteous  entertain  to  that 
law.  The  law  cannot  be  made  void, 
whether  nationally  or  individually,  with- 
out an  accf)mpanying  demonstration  that 
it  is  both  designed  and  adapted  to  bless 
the  human  rare.  And  we  need  not  add, 
that  every  such  demonstration  enhances 
the  worth  of  the  law  in  the  estimation 
of  the  rightef>us,  so  that  the  transition 
is  very  natural  from  the  statement  of  a 
general  proihgacy  of  manners  to  that  of 
an  increased  love  to  the  commandments 
of  God. 

But  we  have  yet   another   mode   in 


which  to  exhibit  the  connection  between 
the  verses,  though  it  may  have  already 
suggested  itself  to  your  minds.  We 
have  hitherto  supposed  the  strengthen- 
ed attachment  which  David  expresses 
tcnvards  tlie  law,  to  have  been  pro4luced 
by  the  fact  that  this  law  was  made  void. 
But  we  now  refer  it  to  the  fact  that  it 
was  time  for  God  to  work.  We  consi- 
der, that  is,  that  when  the  Psalmist 
says,  "  therefore  I  love  thy  commainU 
ments  above  gold,  yea,  above  fine  gold," 
the  reason  is  to  be  fimnd  in  the  charac- 
ter of  the  times,  in  the  season  being  one 
at  which  God  must  bring  judgments  on 
the  earth.  "  Since  thy  law  is  made  void, 
it  is  time  for  thee,  Lord,  to  interfere  in 
vengeance  ;  and  on  this  account,  because 
wrath  must  be  let  loose,  therefore  I 
love  thy  commandments  above  gold, 
yea,  above  fine  gold." 

And  if  this  be  regarded  as  the  ctm- 
nection  between  the  verses,  you  will 
readily  admit  that  there  is  abundant 
force  in  the  reason  of  the  Psalmist.  If 
there  be  one  season  at  which,  more 
than  at  another,  the  righteous  feel  the 
worth  of  revelation,  and  the  blessedness 
of  obeying  its  precepts,  the  season  must 
be  that  of  danger  and  trouble.  Wheth- 
er the  danger  and  trouble  be  public  or 
domestic;  whether  it  be  his  country,  on 
only  his  own  household,  over  which 
calamity  hangs  ;  the  man  of  piety  finds 
a  consolation  in  religion  which  makes 
him  more  than  ever  prize  the  revealed 
will  of  God.  There  is  a  beauty  and 
energy  in  the  Bible  which  nothing  but 
affliction  can  bring  out  and  display  ;  and 
men  know  comparatively  little  of  the 
preciousnes»  of  Scriptural  promises,  and 
the  magnificence  of  Scriptural  hf)pe3, 
until  placed  in  circumstances  of  difficul- 
ty and  distress.  There  are  always  one 
or  two  stations  from  which  you  gain  the 
best  view  of  a  noble  and  diversified 
landscape  ;  and  it  is  when  "constrained 
to  dwell  with  Mesheck,  and  to  have  our 
habitation  among  the  tents  of  Kedar," 
that  our  gaze  includes  most  of  what  is 
glorious  and  brilliant  in  the  scheme  of 
divine  mercy.  It  is  the  promise  of  God 
in  the  91st  Psalm — a  promise  addressed 
to  every  one  who  makes  (Jod  his  trust, 
— "  I  will  bo  with  him  in  trouble."  But 
when  or  where  is  not  God  with  us  1 
Whither  shall  1  go  from  thy  Spirit,  or 
whither  shall  I  flee  from  thy  presence  ] 
Indeed  we  well  know  that  every  where 


THROUGH  THE  MAKING  VOID  THE  LAW. 


265 


is  the  universe  full  of  Diety,  and  that, 
at  no  time,  and  in  no  place,  can  we  be 
at  a  di.stanco  from  God;  and  yet,  as 
though  in  the  day  of  darkness  and  disas- 
ter, the  Omnipresent  could  so  redouble 
his  presence,  that  every  other  day  should 
be,  in  comparison,  one  of  absence,  the 
promise  is,  "  I  will  be  with  him  iu  trou- 
ble." And  the  promise  is  so  fulfilled  in 
the  experience  of  the  righteous,  that 
they  will  own  their  sorrows  to  have 
been  far  more  than  compensated  by  the 
consolations  afforded  in  the  hour  of 
tribulation,  so  that  it  would  have  been 
clearly  for  their  loss  to  have  escaped 
their  trials.  They  are  gainers  by  their 
troubles — for  God  removes  no  good 
without  leaving  a  greater ;  if  he  takes 
away  an  earthly  friend,  he  gives  them 
more  of  himself.  Such  we  affirm  to  be 
the  experience  of  the  righteous  ;  and 
we  are  confident  that  we  might  appeal 
to  many  of  our  hearers  for  evidence  that 
we  overstate  not  this  experience.  There 
are  many  of  you  who  can  testify  to  a 
power  in  the  Bible  of  which  you  were 
not  conscious,  and  to  a  supporting  ener- 
gy in  divine  grace,  which  you  scarcely 
suspected,  until  your  households  were 
invaded  by  calamity.  And  if  such  be 
the  fact,  what  feeling  will  be  more  exci- 
ted in  the  righteous,  when  compelled  to 
own  that  it  is  time  for  God  to  work, 
than  that  of  love  to  the  divine  law  1  If 
they  see  trouble  approaching,  what  will 
they  do  but  cling  with  greater  earn- 
estness to  that  which  alone  can  sup- 
port them,  and  which  they  know  will 
never  fail  ]  Will  not  their  affection  to 
God's  word  be  vastly  enhanced  by  the 
consciousness  that  they  are  about  to  be 
in  circumstances  when  the  promises  of 
that  word  must  be  put  to  the  proof,  and 
by  the  certainty  that  the  putting  them 
to  the  proof  will  issue  in  their  thorough 
fulfilment?  If  they  have  loved  the  word 
above  gold  in  the  hour  of  prosperity, 
they  must  love  it  above  fine  gold,  as  they 
mark  the  gatherings  of  adversity. 

"  It  is  time  for  thee.  Lord,  to  work." 
"  They  have  forsaken  thy  covenant, 
thrown  down  thy  altars,  and  slain  thy 
prophets  with  the  sword ;  "  and  the 
Judge  of  men  must  arise,  and  vindicate 
his  insulted  authority.  But  I  know  on 
whom  the  mark  of  deliverance  will  be 
set,  when  the  men  with  the  slaughter- 
weapons  are  commanded  to  pass  through 
the  land.     I  know  that  where   there  is 


obedience  to  thy  law,  there  will  be  se- 
curity from  thy  wrath.  And  hence  that 
law  is  more  precious  in  my  sight  than  it 
ever  was  before — "  it  is  time  for  thee  to 
work  ;  thereftne  I  love  thy  command- 
ments above  gold ;  yea,  above  find 
gold." 

"  It  is  time  for  thee.  Lord,  to  work." 
There  is  much  in  myself  which  requires 
the  processes  of  the  refiner,  much  of  the 
corruptible  to  be  removed,  much  of  the 
dross  to  be  purged  away.  But  if  it  bo 
needful  that  I  be  cast  into  the  furnace  of 
affliction,  I  have  thy  precepts  to  which 
to  cling,  thy  promises  on  which  to  rest. 
I  find  that  thy  word  comforts  me  in  tho 
prospect ;  I  know  that  it  will  sustain 
me  in  the  endurance  ;  and  hence,  because 
it  is  time  for  thee  to  work,  therefore  is 
thy  word  dearer  to  me  "  than  the  gold, 
yea,  than  the  fine  gold. 

"  It  is  time  for  thee.  Lord,  to  work." 
The  season  of  my  pilgrimage  draws  to 
a  close  ;  the  earthly  house  of  this  taber- 
nacle must  be  taken  down  ;  and  the  hour 
is  at  hand  when  thou  wilt  recall  my  spir- 
it, and  summon  me  to  the  judgment-seat. 
Great  God  !  what  can  be  of  worth  to  me 
in  a  time  such  as  this  ]  What  can  I 
value,  when  every  thing  earthly  is  slip- 
ping from  my  hold  1  Thy  commandments 
— commandments  which  direct  me  to  be- 
lieve upon  thy  Son — thy  law,  a  law  so 
obeyed  by  the  Mediator  in  my  stead,  that 
its  every  precept  acquits  me,  and  its 
every  reward  awaits  me — these  are 
precious  to  me,  unspeakably  more  pre- 
cious than  ever  before.  I  know  that  thy 
strange  work  must  be  wrought  on  me, 
the  work  of  diss(»lution.  I  know  that 
the  time  is  come,  when  I  must  go  henco 
and  be  no  more  seen.  But  I  know  also 
that,  "  till  heaven  and  earth  pass,  one 
jot  or  one  tittle  shall  in  no  wise  pass 
from  thy  law."  I  know  that  "  blessed 
are  they  that  do  his  commandments,  that 
they  may  have  right  to  the  tree  of  life, 
and  may  enter  in  through  the  gates  into 
the  city."  The  nearer,  therefore,  the 
approaches  of  death,  the  more  worthless 
appears  every  thing  but  thy  word,  O 
my  God !  The  gold,  and  the  fine 
gold,  can  profit  me  nothing ;  for  "  it  is 
time  for  thee  to  work,"  and  earth,  with 
all  its  treasures,  must  be  left.  But  thy 
conimaiidments — a  commandment  that 
death  be  swallowed  up  in  victory,  a  com- 
mandment that  the  corruptible  put  on  in- 
corruption,  a  commandment  that  new 
34 


266 


ON  THE  STREXGTH  WHICH  FAITH  GAINS    PY  EXPERIENCE. 


heavens  and  a  new  earth  rise  as  the 
eveilastiiig  home  of  righteousness — these 
give  me  gladness  as  1  enter  the  dark  val- 
ley ;  these  I  would  not  barter  for  the 
richest  and  costliest  of  earthly  things — 
"  it  is    time    for   thee,  Lord,  to  work : 


therefore    1    love    thy    commandments 
above  gold,  yea,  above  fine  gold." 

We  have  nothing  to  add  but  an  earn- 
est prayer  that  ^ve  may  all  be  able  to  say 
from  the  heart  with  David, "Oh,  how  I  love 
thy  law ;  it  is  my  meditation  all  thy  day,* 


S  E  H  ]\I  O  N  . 


ON  THE  STRENGTH  WHICH  FAITH  GAINS  BY  EXPERIENCE. 


**  Foi  I  know  whom  I  have  believed,  and  am  persuaded  that  he  is  able  to  keep  that  which  I  have  committed  unto 

him  against  that  day." — 2  TimothVi  I.  12. 


You  will  observe,  if  you  consult  the 
context  of  this  passage,  that  St.  Paul  is 
speaking  of  our  Redeemer.  In  the  tenth 
verse  he  had  made  mention  of  our  Sa- 
vior Jesus  Christ,  as  having  abolished 
death,  and  hr ought  life  and  immortality 
to  light  through  the  Gospel.  The  dis- 
course is  then  continuous  up  to  the 
words  which  I  have  just  read  to  you  ;  so 
that  we  are  not  left  in  doubt  as  to  the 
being  upon  whom  St.  Paul  fastened  his 
faith.  It  was  Christ  with  whom  the 
apostle  had  left  some  great  deposit,  and 
of  whose  power  and  faithfulness  he  ex- 
presses his  deep-wrought  persuasion. 
And  it  will  therefore  be  our  business,  in 
any  inquiries  to  which  this  passage  may 
lead,  to  hear  carefully  in  mind  that  Deity, 
united  with  humanity  in  the  Mediator's 
person,  constituted  that  object  of  faith 
which  had  been  proved  so  trust-worthy 
by  the  teacher  of  the  Gentiles. 

Now  there  is  an  important  distinction 
to  be  drawn  between  experience  and 
faith,  and  which  is  clearly  marked  out 
to  us  by  these  words  of  the  apostle.  It 
is  certain  that  a  man  cannot  be  saved 
without  faith,  but  it  is  just  as  certain 
that  he  may  be  saved  without  experience. 
You  must  all  perceive  that  if  the  matter 


under  review  be  the'power  and  sufficien- 
cy of  the  Savior,  there  must  be  faith  be- 
fore there  can  be  experience.  We  can 
know  nothing  of  Christ,  except  by  rumor 
and  hearsay,  until  we  believe  in  him. 
But  unquestionably  we  might  believe  in 
him,  and  then  the  arrest  of  death  coming 
upon  us  at  the  instant  of  the  outputting 
of  faith,  all  personal  knowledge  of  him 
must  be  referred  to  another  and  a  high- 
er state  of  being.  So  that  it  would  bo 
accurate  to  say,  that  while  faith  is  indis- 
pensable, experience  is  not  indispensable 
to  salvation.  We  have  taken,  however, 
the  extreme  case.  And  though  it  be 
certainly  supposable  that  a  man  might 
enter  into  heaven  without  experience, 
properly  so  called,  yet  it  is  true,  as  a 
general  rule,  that  faith  will  be  followed 
by  exj)ericncc,  and  that  whosoever  be- 
lieves in  Christ  will  go  on  to  know  whom 
he  hath  believed.  We  may  therefore 
say  of  experience,  that  it  is  a  kind  of 
touchstone  to  which  faith  should  bo 
brought.  For  whilst  we  would  set  our- 
selves most  earnestly,  and  most  assid- 
uously, against  the  resolving  religion  in- 
to a  mere  thing  of  frames  and  of  feelings, 
we  are  bound  to  hold  that  it  is  no  mat- 
ter of  frigid  or  heartless  speculation,  but 


ON  THE  STRENGTH  WHICH  FAITH  GAINS  BY  EXPERIENCE. 


267 


that  a  real  christian  must  have  a  real 
eense  of  the  power  and  preciousness  of" 
Christ.  We  consider  that  it  would  bo 
altogether  idle  to  maintain  that  a  man 
may  believe  in  Christ  as  a  Savior  for 
months  or  years,  and  yet  have  no  loitness 
in  himself  to  the  energies  of  that  Being 
towards  whom  his  faith  is  directed. 
Faith  is  that  mighty,  though  mysterious 
principle,  which  attaches  a  man  to  Christ. 
And  we  may  fairly  set  it  down  as  impos- 
sible that  there  should  be  actual  mem- 
bership between  ourselves  and  the  Me- 
diator, and  yet  nothing  of  personal  prac- 
tical acquaintance  with  his  sufficiencies 
for  the  office  which  he  fills.  He  who 
believes  will  taste  and  see  that  the  Lord 
is  gracious;  and  knowledge  being  su- 
peradded to  faith,  he  will  be  his  own  tes- 
timony that  the  Bible  is  no  cunningly- 
devised  fable  ;  but  that  Christ  crucified, 
though  U7ito  the  Jews  a  stumhling-block, 
and  ^mtothc  Greeks  foolishness,  is  never- 
theless the  -power  of  God  and  the  wisdom 
of  God. 

And  we  think  it  worth  while  to  ob- 
serve, before  we  quit  these  introductory 
remarks,  that  experience  thus  corroborat- 
ing faith,  is  at  the  root  of  that  stanchness 
which  poor  men  will  exhibit  when  plied 
with  the  arguments  of  the  sceptic.  You 
will  not  find  that  an  uneducated  believer 
is  more  easily  overborne  than  a  well- 
educated,  by  the  doubts  and  objections 
of  infidelity.  If  the  illiterate  man  be 
not  so  able  as  the  instructed,  to  expose 
the  hollowness,  and  to  demonstrate  the 
fallacy  of  the  reasoning  by  which  he  is 
assailed,  he  will  be  to  the  full  as  rigorous 
in  his  resistance  of  the  attack,  and  will 
be  no  more  shaken  from  his  faith  through 
want  of  acquaintance  with  the  evidences 
of  Christianity,  that  if  he  were  equipped 
with  all  that  armor  of  proof  which  has 
been  heaped  together  by  the  learned  of 
the  earth.  And  we  hold  the  explanation 
of  the  phenomenon  to  be,  that  the  poor 
man  knows  whom  he  hath  believed.  If  he 
can  make  no  appeal  to  history  and  to 
science,  and  so  fetch  no  witness  from  the 
records  of  the  earth  and  its  inhabitants, 
he  can  travel  into  the  world  which  lies 
within  himself;  and  he  gathers  from 
what  has  been  transacted  there,  and  ex- 
perienced there,  a  mightier  testimony 
than  was  ever  wrung  from  external  evi- 
dence. When  he  began  to  believe,  it 
may  be  true  that  he  could  give  but  little 
account  of  any  ground- work  on  which  he 


builded  his  faith.  But  as  he  goes  en  be- 
lieving, his  faith  may  be  said  to  become 
more  and  more  built  upon  knowledge ; 
and  there  will  be  wrought  in  him  grad- 
ually, through  his  own  personal  experi- 
ence of  the  power  and  faithfulness  of 
the  Savior,  something  of  the  persuasion 
which  is  expressed  by  St.  Paul,  and 
which  will  moi-e  than  supply  the  place 
of  those  ramparts  against  infidelity  which 
have  been  thrown  up  by  the  labors  of 
the  champions  of  Christianity.  And 
though  we  have  directed  our  remarks 
to  the  case  of  the  poor  and  the  illiterate^ 
we  would  not  have  it  thought  that  they 
are  inapplicable  to  others.  It  is  quite 
evident  that  the  great  apostle  himself, 
than  whom  there  hath  never  arisen  a 
man  better  able  to  demonstrate,  on  ex- 
ternal grounds,  that  Jesus  was  the  Christ, 
strengthened  his  faith  by  his  knowledge, 
and  fetched  out  of  his  own  experience 
his  choicest  proof  of  the  fulness  which 
is  laid  up  in  the  Savior.  And  thus  with 
ourselves  ;  whatever  our  rank  in  society, 
and  whatever  our  advantages  of  educa- 
tion, we  must  place  ourselves  on  the 
same  level  with  the  mean  and  the  unin- 
structed,  when  searching  out  the  best 
evidence  that  Christ  can  save  to  the  ut- 
termost; and  there  will  never  be  a  proof 
half  so  rigid,  and  half  so  overwhelming, 
of  the  ability  of  the  Mediator  to  guard 
the  bodies  and  the  souls  of  his  people, 
as  that  which  we  derive  from  things  al- 
ready done  for  us,  in  the  warfare  which 
we  prosecute  against  Satan  and  the 
world. 

We  will  now  pass  on,  from  these  ge- 
neral remarks,  to  a  closer  examination 
of  the  subject  brought  before  us  by  our 
text.  We  ask  you  once  more  to  ob- 
serve, that  with  St.  Paul  experience 
came  evidently  in  to  the  corroboration 
of  faith  ;  so  that  the  apostle's  faith  was 
stronger,  and  that,  too,  as  a  consequence 
of  what  he  knew  of  Christ,  than  when 
he  had  first  of  all  started  from  the  ranks 
of  the  persecutor.  He  had  gone  through 
affliction  aud  toil  in  the  service  of  the 
Savior,  and  he  felt  assured  that  now 
the  period  was  not  far  distant,  when  he 
should  be  called  to  brave  martyrdom  in 
his  cause.  But  in  all  the  trials  through 
which  he  had  passed,  there  had  been 
administered  unto  him  such  abundance 
ot  support  and  consolation,  that  former 
troubles,  in  place  of  disheartening,  on- 
ly nerved  him  for  the  endurance  of  fresh. 


268 


ON  THE  STRENGTH  WHICH  FAITH  GAINS  BY  EXPERIENCE. 


He  was  notliing  disquieted  at  the  pros- 
pect of  imprisonment  and  death.  In 
carving  his  way  througli  opposition  al- 
ready overcome,  he  liad  realized  so  much 
of  the  sustaining  might  of  the  Kedeem- 
er,  that  he  could  look  forward  with  a 
noble  assurance  to  a  final,  and  still  fiercer 
combat.  If  indeed  there  had  been  failure 
in  the  communications  of  assistance — if, 
depending  on  the  promised  support,  he 
had  gone  to  the  battle,  and  there  met 
with  discomfiture — he  might  have  been 
conscious  of  something  akin  to  mistrust 
and  shrinking,  when  he  saw  Jiis  foes 
mustering  for  the  last  assault.  But  he 
liticw  iclu-m  lie  had  believed ;  he  had  put 
Christ,  as  it  were,  to  the  proof,  and  ob- 
tained nothing  but  an  evidence,  every 
day  strengthened,  that  all  the  promises 
in  him  are  yea,  and  in  him  amen,  to  the 
glory  of  God  the  Father,  And  now, 
though  he  had  deposited  his  all  with  the 
Redeemer — though  he  had  gathered,  so 
to  speak,  his  every  interest,  time  and 
eteinity,  into  one  cast,  and  staked  the 
whole  upon  the  faithfulness  of  Christ, — 
he  was  not  disturbed  with  the  lightest 
apprehension  of  risk  or  peril ;  but,  look- 
ing composedly  on  the  advancing  tide, 
which,  upon  human  calculations,  was  to 
sweep  him  away,  and  bury  all  his  hopes 
in  its  depths,  he  could  avouch  his  un- 
flinching persuasion,  that  Jesus  was  able 
to  keep  that  which  he  had  committed  un- 
to him  against  that  day,  tehen  he  should 
he  glorified,  in  his  saints,  and  admired 
in  all  them  that  believe. 

Such,  we  think,  is  the  statement  of 
our  text,  when  taken  in  the  breadth  of 
its  meaning.  And  if  we  now  consider 
the  passage  as  descriptive  simply  of 
what  is,  or  what  ought  to  be,  the  expe- 
rience of  every  believer  in  Christ,  we 
deduce  from  it  two  facts,  each  of  which 
deserves  the  best  of  your  attention. 

In  the  first  place  we  ascertain  that 
the  believer  obtains  a  knowledge  op 
Christ. 

In    the  second  place  we  determine 

that  THE  KNOWLEDGE  THUS  OBTAINED  IS 
SUCH   AS  TO  GENERATE   CONFIDENCE. 

We  will  give  ourselves  to  the  exami- 
nation of  these  facts  in  succession,  dis- 
cussing, at  the  same  time,  such  collateral 
truths  as  shall  seem  presented  by  the 
words  of  the  apostle. 

In  the  first    place,  then,  a  believer 

OBTAINS  A  KNOWLEDGE  OF  ChKIST.      Now 

WO  think  that  it  may  be  both  from  his 


own  experience,  and  from  the  expen- 
ence  of  others,  that  a  christian  Jcnaio* 
irho?n  he  hath  believed  You  may  in- 
deed argue,  that  so  far  as  the  experience 
of  others  is  concerned,  there  is  no  neces- 
sity that  a  man  should  be  a  believer  in 
Christ  in  order  to  his  obtaining  acquain- 
tance with  Christ.  Assuredly  any  one, 
whatsoever  his  own  personal  sentiments 
on  religion,  may  give  attention  to  the 
biography  of  God-fearing  men,  and  gath- 
er from  the  dealings  of  which  they  have 
been  the  subjects,  all  the  infinmation 
which  they  furnish  with  regard  to  the 
character  of  the  Mediator.  But  we  de- 
ny this  pi'oposilion,  though  it  may  seem 
too  simple  to  admit  of  any  question.  Un- 
less a  man  be  himself  a  converted  man, 
he  cannot  enter  into  the  facts  and  the 
feelings  which  this  biography  lays  open. 
The  whole  record  will  wear  to  him  an 
air  of  strangeness  and  of  mystery  ;  and 
if  he  have  the  candor  not  to  resolve  into 
fanaticism  the  registered  experience,  he 
will  be  forced  to  pass  it  over  as  tho- 
roughly unintelligible.  If  a  man  know 
nothing  of  chemistry,  and  if  he  take  up 
a  treatise  upon  chemistry,  he  is  at  a  loss 
in  every  page,  and  can  make  no  way, 
through  want  of  that  acquaintance  with 
the  subject  which  the  work  presupposes. 
And  if  the  author  be  giving  something 
of  his  own  history,  and  if  he  cany  the 
reader  into  his  laboratory,  and  count 
over  to  him  experiments,  and  bring  out 
results,  why,  the  man  who  is  no  chemist, 
and  who  is  therefore  altogether  ignorant 
of  the  properties  of  the  substances  on 
which  the  scientific  man  works,  will  un- 
derstand not,  or  appreciate  not,  the  dis- 
coveries which  are  reached  of  the  se- 
crets of  nature ;  but  with  all  the  appa- 
ratus of  knowledge  spread  befoie  him, 
will  remain  as  ignorant  as  ever,  through 
the  not  having  mastered  the  alphabet 
of  chemistry.  And  what  is  true  of  such 
a  science  as  chemistry,  we  hold  to  bo 
equally  true  of  practical  Christianity. 
The  experiments,  if  we  may  so  speak, 
which  have  been  made  in  the  soul  oC  a 
man  of  piety  and  prayer, — experiments 
of  the  power  of  grace  and  of  indwell- 
ing sin — and  the  results  also  which 
have  been  derived  from  such  experi- 
ments ;  we  would  certainly  contend  that 
these  cannot  be  understood,  and  can- 
not be  entered  into,  unless  the  individ- 
ual who  peruses  the  record  have  some- 
thing of  fellow-feeling  with  the  subject 


ON  THE  STRENGTH  WHICH  FAITH  GAINS  BY  EXPERIENCE. 


269 


of  the  biography — unless,  that  is,  there 
shall  liave  passed  on  him  that  renova- 
ting change  which  has  brought  him  out 
of  nominal  into  real  Christianity,  After 
all,  the  deriving  knowledge  of  Christ 
from  the  experience  of  others  must  be 
through  an  act  of  faith.  It  is  by  belief 
in  testimony,  that  what  has  been  done 
for  our  fellow-men  by  the  Redeemer, 
is  turned  into  information  to  ourselves 
of  his  sufficiencies  for  his  office.  So 
that  it  were  fair  to  argue,  that  a  man 
must  have  faith,  and  therefore  religious 
experience  for  himself,  otherwise  he 
possesses  not  the  faculty  by  wliich  to  ex- 
tract knowledge  from  the  religious  ex- 
perience of  others. 

But  let  a  man  be  a  believer  in  Christ, 
and  every  day  of  his  life  will  bring  him 
intelligence,  from  external  testimony,  of 
the  worth  of  the  Being  on  whom  he 
fastens  his  faith.  The  witnesses  who 
stand  out  and  attest  the  excellence  of 
the  Mediator,  occupy  the  whole  scale 
of  intelligence,  from  the  Creator  down- 
wards, through  every  rank  of  the  crea- 
tui'e.  The  man  of  faith  hears  the  Father 
himself  bearing  testimony  by  a  voice 
from  heaven.  "  This  is  my  beloved  Son, 
m  whom  I  am  well  pleased.'^  He  hears 
angels  and  archangels  lauding  and  mag- 
nifying Christ's  glorious  name ;  for  do 
not  the  winged  hierarchies  of  heaven 
bow  to  him  the  knee,  and  that  too  as 
the  consequence  of  his  work  of  media- 
tion ?  He  hears  patriarchs  who  lived  in 
the  infancy  of  the  world  ;  prophets  who 
took  >ip  in  succession  the  mighty  strain, 
and  sent  it  on  from  century  to  century ; 
apostles  who  went  out  to  the  battle  with 
idijlatry,  and  counted  not  their  lives  dear 
to  them,  so  that  they  might  plant  the 
cross  amid  the  wilds  of  superstition  ; — 
he  hears  all  these,  with  one  heart  and 
one  voice,  witnessing  to  Jesus,  as  the 
Son  of  the  Highest,  the  Savior  of  the 
lost.  And  he  hears,  moreover,  the  mar- 
tyrs and  the  confessors  of  every  gene- 
ration ;  the  saints  who  have  held  fast 
their  allegiance  on  the  rack  and  in  the 
furnace  ;  the  noble  champions  who  have 
risen  up  in  the  days  of  a  declining 
church,  and  shed  their  blood  like  water 
in  defence  of  the  purity  of  doctrine  ; 
he  he^jrs  the  men  of  whom  the  icorld 
was  not  vjorthij,  uttering  an  unflinching 
attestation  to  the  willingness  and  abili- 
ty of  Christ  to  succor  those  who  give 
themselves  to  his  service.     And  he  hears 


finally,  a  voice  from  the  thousands  who, 
in  more  private  stations,  have  taken 
Christ  as  their  Lord  and  their  God; 
who,  in  dependence  on  his  might,  have 
gone  unobtrusively  through  duty  and 
trial,  and  then  have  lain  down  on  the 
death-bed,  and  worn  a  smile  amid  the 
decayings  of  the  body, — and  this  voice 
bears  a  witness,  stanch  and  decisive, 
that  He  in  whom  they  hai-e  trusted,  has 
proved  himself  all-sufficient  to  deliver. 
And  if  we  do  right  in  arguing  that  there 
is  poured  in  gradually  upon  a  believer 
this  scarcely  measurable  evidence  to 
the  power  and  faithfulness  of  Christ, 
will  it  not  come  to  pass  that  he  grows 
every  day  more  acquainted  with  the  ex- 
cellencies of  the  Savior;  so  that,  by 
gathering  in  from  the  accumulated  stores 
of  the  testimony  of  others,  he  will  be 
able,  with  a  continually  strengthening 
assurance,  to  declare,  I  Icnoio  whoyn  I 
have  believed. 

If  it  were  possible  that  this  testimony 
of  others  should  be  appreciated  and 
grasped  without  faith,  or  without  con- 
version, then  it  would  be  certain  that  a 
vast  way  might  be  made  in  the  know- 
ledge of  Christ,  by  men  whose  own  ex- 
perience could  furnish  no  information. 
But,  forasmuch  as  on  the  grounds  al- 
ready laid  down,  there  must  be  a  pre- 
pared soil  for  the  reception  of  these 
testimonies  to  Christ,  we  think  it  fair 
to  contend  that  no  man  can  know  Christ 
unless  he  believe  in  Christ,  even  though 
the  knowledge  may  be  fetched  from  the 
recorded  attestations  of  every  order  of 
intelligence. 

It  is  not,  however,  so  much  from 
what  is  told  him  by  others,  as  from 
what  he  experiences  in  himself,  that  a 
believer  knows  whom  lie  hath  believed. 
You  will  observe  that  as  a  result  of  his 
acting  faith  upon  Christ,  he  is  engaged 
in  a  moral  warfare  with  the  world,  the 
flesh  and  the  devil.  He  goes  to  the 
combat  in  no  strength  of  his  own,  but 
simply  in  the  might  of  his  lisen  Re- 
deemer. And  the  question  is,  whether 
thus  putting  to  the  proof  the  Savior  of 
men,  he  obtains  an  evidence  for,  or  an 
evidence  against,  his  ability  to  help  and 
sustain?  And  can  we  hesitate  as  to  the 
side  on  which  the  testimony  turns  1  If 
a  believer  is  at  any  time  overborne  in 
the  conflict;  if  lust  gain  the  victory,  or 
the  world  for  a  while  re-assert  the  sov- 
ereignty of  which  it  hath  been  stripped; 


270 


ON  THE  STRENGTH  ■WHICH  FAITH  GAIN'S  UY  EXPERIENCE. 


shall  it  be  supposed  for  a  moment  that 
such  result  may  be  ascribed  to  deficien- 
cy in  the  assistance  which  Christ  lives 
to  communicate  ?  If  a  christian  is  over- 
thrown, it  is  because  he  is  surprised  oft' 
his  guard.  But  is  Christ  chargeable 
with  his  being  oft'  his  guard  1  It  is  be- 
cause he  is  remiss  in  prayer,  or  because 
he  parleys  with  temptation,  or  because 
he  avails  not  himself  of  the  armor  pro- 
vided by  God.  But  is  Christ  charge- 
able with  his  nefjliofence,  with  his  in- 
decision,  with  his  carelessness  in  the 
use  of  instituted  means  1  We  may  lay 
it  down  as  an  ascertained  truth,  that 
Christ  never  failed  a  believer  in  his  hour 
of  combat.  The  believer  may  be  mas- 
tered ;  the  enemy  may  come  in  like  a 
flood,  and  there  may  be  no  efficient  re- 
sistance opposed  to  the  inrush.  But 
whensoever  there  is  a  meeting  of  the 
foe  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord,  there 
is  a  realization  of  the  truth  of  the  prom- 
ise, 3Ii/  grace  is  syjjicic7it  for  thee.  God 
is  faithful,  lolio  will  not  suffer  you  to  he 
tempted  above  that  ye  are  able.  God,  so 
to  speak,  measures  and  weighs  every 
trial  before  he  permits  it  to  be  allotted. 
He  sets  it  side  by  side  with  the  circum- 
stances and  strength  of  the  party  upon 
whom  it  is  to  fall.  And  if  he  ever  per- 
ceive that  the  temptation  overpasses  the 
capacity  of  resistance,  so  that,  if  thus 
tempted,  an  individual  would  be  tempt- 
ed above  that  he  is  able  ;  then  God  is 
represented  to  us  as  refusing  to  permit 
the  appointment,  and  therefore  as  watch- 
ing that  believers  may  never  be  unavoid- 
ably brought  into  such  a  position  that 
their  yielding  to  evil  shall  be  a  matter 
of  necessity.  And  it  certainly  must  fol- 
low from  these  scriptural  premises,  that 
the  being  over-powered  can  never  bo 
charged  on  a  deficiency  in  succor  ;  and 
that,  though  it  were  idle  to  jilead  for  the 
possibility  of  our  attaining  perfection, 
yet  the  impossibility  arises  not  from 
God's  communicating  too  little  of  assis- 
tance, but  solely  from  our  own  want  of 
vigilance  in  appropriating  and  applying 
the  freely  oft'ercd  aids. 

We  take  it,  therefore,  as  the  expe- 
rience of  a  believer,  that  the  Captain  of 
Salvation  strengthens  his  followers  for 
the  moral  conflict  to  which  they  are 
pledged.  How  often,  when  Satan  has 
brought  all  his  powers  to  the  assault, 
and  the  man  has  seemed  within  a  hair- 
breadth of  yielding,  how  often  has  an 


earnest  prayer,  thrown  like  an  arrow 
to  the  mercy-seat,  caused  Christ  to  ap- 
pear, as  he  once  did  to  Joshua,  the  cap« 
tain  of  the  Lord's  host;  and  the  tide  of 
battle  has  been  turned,  and  the  foe  has 
been  routed,  and  the  oppressed  one  de- 
livered !  How  often,  when  an  evil  pas- 
sion has  almost  goaded  the  believer  into 
compliance  with  its  dictates,  and  there 
seemed  no  longer  any  likelihood  of  its 
being  kept  down  or  ejected,  how,  by 
dealing  with  this  passion  as  dealt  the 
apostles  of  old  with  foul  spirits  Avhich 
had  entered  into  the  body,  calling  over 
it  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus, — hovr 
often,  we  say,  has  the  passion  been  cast 
out,  and  the  possessed  man  restored 
quickly  to  soundness  and  peace  !  How 
often,  in  looking  forward  to  duties  im- 
posed on  him  by  his  christian  profession, 
has  the  believer  been  conscious  of  a  kind 
of  shrinking  at  the  prospect !  It  has 
seemed  to  him  almost  hopeless  that  he 
should  bear  up  under  the  pressure  of 
labor;  that  he  should  meet  faithfully 
every  claim  upon  his  time  and  attention  ; 
and  that  he  should  discharge,  with  any 
thing  of  becoming  carefulness,  the  va- 
rious offices  with  which  he  sees  himself 
intrusted.  But  when  he  has  reflected 
on  himself  as  simply  an  instrument  in 
the  hands  of  his  Master,  and  resolved 
to  go  on  in  a  single  dependence  on  the 
helps  which  are  promised  through  Christ, 
has  not  the  mountain  become  literally  a 
plain  ;  so  that  duties  which,  at  a  distance, 
seemed  altogether  overwhelming,  have 
proved,  when  entered  upon,  the  very 
reverse  of  oppressive  !  And  what  shall 
we  assert  to  be  the  result  of  this  contin- 
ual experience  of  the  sufficiencies  of 
Christ,  unless  it  be  that  the  believer 
knows  whom  he  hath  believed  ?  The  stone 
which  God  laid  in  Zion  becomes  to  him, 
according  to  the  prophetical  description, 
a  tried  stone.  He  no  longer  needs  to 
appeal  to  the  experience  of  others.  He 
has  the  witness  in  himself,  and  he  can 
use  the  language  which  the  Samaritan* 
used  to  the  woman  who  first  told  them 
of  Christ  as  the  prophet, —  We  have 
heard  him  ourselves,  and  know  that  this 
is  indeed  the  Christ,  the  Savior  <f  the 
world. 

There  can  be  nothing  clearer  than  the 
connection  between  experience  and 
knowledge.  If  I  meet  difliculties  in 
Christ's  strength,  and  master  them;  if  I 
face  enemies    in  Christ's  strength,  and 


ON  THE  STRENGTH  WHICH  FAITH  GAINS  BY  EXPERIENCB 


271 


vanquish  them  ;  if  I  undertake  duties  in 
Christ's  strength,  and  discharge  them, — 
the  difficulties,  and  the  enemies,  and  the 
duties  being  such  as  I  could  not  grap- 
ple with  by  my  own  unassisted  might, 
— then  my  experience  is  actually  know- 
ledge ;  for  experiencing  Christ  to  be 
faithful  and  powerful,  I  certainly  know 
Christ  to  be  faithful  and  powerful. 

We  may  yet  further  observe,  that 
knowledge,  the  produce  of  experience, 
is  of  a  broader  extent  than  our  foregoing 
remarks  would  appear  to  mark  out.  The 
believer  in  Christ,  if  indeed  he  live  not 
so  far  below  his  privileges  as  almost  to 
forfeit  the  title,  must  be  one  who,  having 
felt  the  burden  of  sin,  has  come  weary 
and  heavy  laden  to  the  Savior,  and  ob- 
tained the  removal  of  the  oppression 
from  his  conscience ;  and  will  it  not 
therefore  hold  good,  that,  through  ex- 
perience, he  knows  Christ  as  the  Lamb 
of  God  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the 
world  ]  He  must,  moreover,  be  one 
who,  painfully  alive  to  his  own  utter  in- 
ability to  obey  God's  law  for  himself, 
has  turned  to  Jesus  in  search  of  a  sure- 
ty, and  found,  in  that  unvarying  faithful- 
ness with  which  he  acted  out  the  pre- 
cepts of  the  Father,  j.ust  that  procuring 
cause  of  acceptance  which  is  required 
by  the  fallen ;  and  will  it  not  therefore 
be  true,  that  through  experience  he 
knows  Christ  as  the  Liord  our  Righteous- 
ness 1  He  must,  moi'eover — at  least  if 
he  have  travelled  at  all  beyond  the  very 
outset  of  the  life  of  faith — have  been 
visited  with  spiritual  trials,  and  perhaps 
also  with  temporal ;  and  he  will  have 
carried  his  sorrows  to  the  Redeemer,  as 
to  one  who  can  he  touched  toith  tlie  feel- 
ing of  our  infirmities,  and  he  will  have 
obtained  tho  oil  and  the  wine  of  consola- 
tion ;  and  will  he  not  therefore,  from  this 
his  experience,  know  Christ  as  that  gra- 
cious being  who  comforteth  them  that 
are  cast  down,  xoho  bindeth  tip  the  broken 
hearted  1  He  must  yet  further  be  one 
who,  conscious  that  the  world  which  lieth 
within  himself  is  overspread  with  defile- 
ment, and  that  he  is  possessed  of  no 
native  energy  by  which  to  carry  purity 
into  the  recesses  of  the  heart,  has  turned 
to  Jesus  in  order  that  ho  might  obtain 
the  inworking  of  a  holiness  which  should 
fit  him  for  heaven,  and  has  realized  the 
processes  of  an  on-going  sanctification  ; 
and  does  not  then  his  experience  cause 
him  to  know  Christ  as  made  unto   his 


people  wisdom,  and  righteousness,  and  sanC" 
tification,  and  redemption  ?  He  must, 
finally,  be  one  who,  feeling  himself  no 
creature  of  a  day,  but  sublimely  conscious 
that  immortality  throbbed  in  his  veins, 
has  looked  fruitlessly  on  earth  for  an  ob- 
ject which  might  fill  his  soul  ;  and  then 
fastening  upon  God  manifest  in  thefiesh, 
has  found  the  enormous  void  occupied 
to  the  overflow, — and  hath  not  then 
his  experience  led  him  to  know  Christ 
as  formed  in  his  people  the  hope  of 
glory  ]  We  might  extend  this  adduc- 
tion of  particulars;  but  we  think  that 
what  has  been  already  advanced  will 
suffice  for  our  carrying  you  along  with 
us  in  the  conclusion,  that  where  faith 
resides,  there  must  be  experience  ;  and 
that  experience,  in  natural  course,  pro- 
duces knowledge, — nay,  rather  that  ex- 
perience is  identical  with  knowledge  ;  so 
that  all  true  believers,  who  have  walked 
a  while  in  the  heaven-ward  path,  may 
declare  with  St.  Paul,  I  know  whom  I 
have  believed. 

And  we  would  again  press  upon  your 
attention  the  important  fact,  that  as  faith, 
being  followed  by  experience,  will  issue 
in  knowledge,  so  the  knowledge  thus 
acquired  will  tell  back  upon  the  faith, 
and  throw  into  it  nerve  and  stability. 
We  are  persuaded  that,  by  a  wonderful 
and  most  merciful  arrangement,  God 
hath  ordered  that  experience  should 
grow  into  such  a  witness  for  the  truth 
of  Christianity,  that  scepticism,  though 
brought  forward  with  all  that  is  pointed 
in  argument  and  splendid,  in  oratory, 
hath  literally  no  likelihood  whatever  of 
success,  even  when  the  attack  is  on  a 
believer  who  has  nothing  of  human 
weapon  at  his  disposal.  If  you  sent  the 
most  accomplished  of  infidels  into  the 
cottage  of  the  meanest  of  our  peasants, 
or  into  the  workshop  of  the  poorest  of 
our  artisans, — the  peasant,  or  the  artisan, 
being  supposed  a  true  believer  in  Christ 
— we  should  entertain  not  the  slightest 
apprehension  as  to  the  issue  of  a  con- 
flict between  parties  apparently  so  ill- 
matched  ;  but  on  the  contrary,  should 
await  the  result  in  the  most  perfect  as- 
surance, that  though  there  might  be  no 
taking  off  the  objections  of  the  infidel, 
there  would  be  no  overthrowing  the 
faith  of  the  believer.  Scepticism  can 
make  no  way  where  there  is  real  Chris- 
tianity ;  all  its  triumphs  are  won  on  the 
field  of  nominal  Christianity.     And  it   is 


272 


ON  THE  STREXGTH  WHICH  FAITH  GAIXS  BY  EXPERIENCE. 


a  phenomenon  which  might,  at  first  sight, 
well  draw  our  amazement,  that  just 
where  we  should  look  for  the  least  of 
resistance,  and  where  we  should  con- 
clude that,  almost  as  a  matter  of  course, 
the  sophistry  of  the  infidel  might  enter 
and  carry  every  thing  before  it — that 
there  we  find  a  power  of  withstanding 
which  is  perhaps  even  greater  than  could 
b.e  exhioited  in  a  higher  and  more  edu- 
cated circle — st)  that  the  believing  me- 
chanic shall  outdo  the  believing  philoso- 
pher in  the  vigor  with  which  he  repels 
the  insinuations  of  a  sceptic.  We  are 
not  arguing  that  the  mechanic  will  make 
the  mr)st  way  in  confuting  the  sceptic. 
On  the  contrary,  there  will  be  a  vast 
probability  against  his  being  able  to  ex- 
pose the  fallacy  of  a  solitary  objection. 
But  then  he  will  take  refuge  simply  in 
his  experience.  He  will  not,  as  the 
philosopher  may  do,  divide  himself  be- 
tween experience  and  argument.  Tf  he 
have  no  apparatus  at  his  command  with 
w'hich  to  meet  and  dissect,  and  lay  bare, 
a  hollow,  but  plausible  reasoning,  he 
has  his  own  knowledge  to  which  to 
turn — and  then  the  whole  question  lies 
between  a  theory  and  a  matter-of-fact. 
His  knowledge  is  matter-of-fact — and 
argument  will  always  be  worthless  if  it 
set  itself  against  matter-of-fact.  He 
knows  whom  he  hath  hclicved.  There 
may  be  in  this  knowledge  none  of  the 
elements  of  another  man's  conviction, — 
but  there  is  to  himself  the  material  of  an 
overpowering  assurance.  It  might  be 
quite  impossible  to  take  this  knowledge, 
and  make  it  available  as  an  argument 
with  which  to  bear  down  on  his  infidel 
assailant.  It  is  a  visionary  thing  to  his 
opponent — but  it  is  a  matter-of-fact  to 
himself.  And  we  contend  that  in  this 
lies  the  grand  secret  of  a  poor  man's 
capability  of  resisting  the  advancings  of 
infidelity.  It  is  no  theory  with  him  that 
Jesus  is  the  Christ.  It  is  no  specula- 
tion that  the  (lospel  offers  a  remedy  for 
those  moral  disorders  which  sin  hath 
fastened  on  the  creature.  He  has  not 
meiely  read  the  Bible — he  has  felt  the 
Bible.  He  has  not  merely  heard  of  the 
medicine — he  has  taken  the  medicine. 
And  now,  we  again  say,  when  you 
would  argue  with  him  against  Chris- 
tianity, you  argue  with  him  against 
matter-of-fact.  You  argue  against  the 
existence  ftf  fire,  to  a  man  who  has  been 
Bcorched  by  the  flame ;  and  against  the 


existence  of  water,  to  a  man  who  has 
been  drenched  in  the  depths  ;  and  against 
the  existence  of  light,  to  a  man  who  has 
looked  out  on  the  landscape  ;  and  argu 
ment  can  make  no  head  when  it  sets 
itself  against  matter-of-fact. 

If  I  had  labored  under  a  painful  and 
deadly  disease, — and  if  I  had  gone  to  a 
physician — and  if  I  had  received  from 
him  a  medicine  which  brought  the  health 
back  into  my  limbs — what  success  would 
attend  the  most  clever  of  reasoners  who 
should  set  himself  to  prove  to  me  that 
no  such  being  as  this  physician  had  ever 
existed,  or  that  there  was  no  virtue 
whatsoever  in  the  draught  which  had 
wrought  in  me  with  so  healing  an  en- 
ergy 1  He  might  argue  with  a  keenness 
and  a  shrewdness  which  left  me  quite 
over-matched.  There  might  be  an  in- 
genuity in  his  historic  doubts  with  regard 
to  the  existence  of  the  physician ;  and 
there  might  be  an  apparent  science  iu 
his  analysis  of  the  medicine,  and  his  ex- 
posure of  its  worthlessness  ;  and  I  on 
my  part,  might  be  quite  unable  to  meet 
him  on  his  own  ground,  to  show  the 
fault  and  the  falsehood  of  his  reasoning. 
But  you  can  never  suppose  that  my  in- 
capacity to  refute  argument  would  lead 
me  to  the  giving  up  a  matter-of-fact.  I 
should  just  be  in  the  case  of  the  man  in 
the  Gospel,  to  whom  Christ  had  given 
sight,  and  whom  the  Pharisees  plied 
with  doubts,  derived  from  the  presumed 
sinfulness  of  the  Savior,  in  regard  to  the 
possibility  of  the  miracle.  I  should  an- 
swer with  this  man,  only  varying  the 
language,  so  that  it  might  square  with 
the  form  of  objection  :  Whether  he  be  a 
sifmcr  or  no,  I  know  not ;  one  thing  I 
kiwir,  that  whereas  I  was  Wind,  now  I  see. 
And  precisely,  in  like  manner,  a  believer, 
with  no  other  resources  at  his  dispo- 
sal, can  throw  himself  unhesitatingly 
on  his  own  experience  ;  and  this,  ren- 
dering Christianity  to  him  all  matter  of 
fact,  makes  him  proof  against  the  sub- 
tleties of  the  most  insidious  infidelity. 

So  that  we  require  of  you  to  learn 
from  the  subject  under  review,  that 
God  hath  woven  into  true  religion  all 
the  elements  of  a  successful  resistance 
to  cavil  and  objection,  leaving  not  the 
very  poorest,  and  the  most  illiterate  of 
his  people  open  to  the  inroad  of  the 
enemies  of  Christianity ;  but  causing 
that  there  rise  up  from  their  own  ex- 
perience   such    ramparts    of    strength, 


ON  THE  STRENGTH  WHICH  FAITH  GAINS  BY  EXPERIENCE. 


273 


that  if  they  have  no  artillery  with  which 
to  battle  at  the  adversary,  there  is  at 
least  no  risk  of  their  own  citadel  being 
Stormed. 

And  though  we  have  not  time  to  fol- 
low out  at  greater  length  the  train  of 
thought  which  this  portion  of  our  sub- 
ject originates,  wc  commend  to  your 
attention,  as  worthy  of  being  most  care- 
fully pondered  over,  the  provision  which 
is  made  in  experience  against  infideli- 
ty. We  may  have  been  accustomed  to 
regard  the  evidence  of  Christianity  as 
lying  out  of  reach  of  the  poor  and  the 
illiterate ;  and  we  may  have  looked  with 
a  peculiar  dread  on  the  descendings  of 
the  agents  of  scepticism  to  the  lower  and 
less  etjuipped  ranks  of  society.  And  be- 
yond all  question,  if  you  just  take  the 
uneducated  mass  of  our  population, 
there  is  a  far  greater  risk  than  with  the 
well  educated,  that  the  diffusion  amongst 
them  of  infidel  publications  will  issue  in 
the  warping  them  from  the  faith  of  their 
fathers.  There  may  be  something  like 
stamina  of  resistance  in  the  higher  and 
the  middling  classes  ;  for  if  indiflerent  to 
religion,  they  may  be  idolaters  of  reason, 
and  they  will  therefore  require  some- 
thing better  than  worn-out  and  flimsy 
objections  before  they  throw  away  as 
false,  what  has  been  handed  down  to 
them  as  true.  But  when  infidelity  goes 
down,  so  to  speak,  to  the  inferior  and 
less  cultivated  soils,  there  is  certainly  a 
fearful  probability  that  it  may  scatter, 
unmolested,  the  seeds  of  a  dark  harvest 
of  apostacy  ;  and  that  men  who  have  no 
reason  to  give  why  they  are  even  nom- 
inally christians,  will  be  wrought  upon 
by  the  most  empty  and  common-place 
arguments,  to  put  from  them  Christianity 
as  a  scheme  of  falsehood  and  priestcraft. 

We  are  thoroughly  alive  to  this  dan- 
ger; and  we  think  it  not  to  be  disputed, 
that  the  incapacity  of  the  lower  classes 
to  meet  infidelity  cm  any  fair  terms,  ex- 
poses them,  in  a  more  ordinary  degree, 
to  the  risk  of  being  prevailed  on  to  ex- 
change nominal  religion  for  no  religion 
at  all.  But  this,  we  would  have  you 
observe,  is  the  sum  total  of  the  risk. 
We  have  no  fears  for  any  thing,  except- 
ing; nominal  christianitv.  And  thouo^h 
we  count  that  the  giving  up  even  of  no- 
minal Christianity  would  just  be  equiv- 
alent to  the  overspreading  a  country 
with  ferocity  and  barbarism,  there  be- 
ing none  of  the  charities  of  life  in  the 


train  of  infidelity — yet  we  think  it  a 
cause  •)f  mighty  gratulation,  that  real 
Christianity  has  so  much  of  the  vis  in- 
ertien  in  its  nature,  that  we  are  quit  of 
all  dread  of  its  being  borne  down  even 
in  a  wide-spread  apostacy.  Is  it  not  a 
beautiful  truth,  that  the  well  equipped 
agents  of  infidelity  might  go  successive- 
ly to  the  library  of  the  pious  theologian, 
and  the  hovel  of  the  pious  laborer,  and 
make  not  one  jot  more  impression  on 
the  uninstructed  subject  of  godliness, 
than  on  the  deep-read  master  of  all  the 
evidences  of  our  faith  ]  Oh,  we  take  it 
for  an  exquisite  proof  of  the  carefulness 
of  God  over  his  people,  that  the  poor 
cottager,  in  the  midst  of  his  ignorance 
of  all  that  external  witness  which  we 
are  wont  to  appeal  to  as  gloriously  con- 
clusive on  the  claims  of  Christianity,  is 
not  to  be  overcome  by  the  most  subtle 
or  the  fiercest  assault ;  but  that  whilst 
men  of  a  higher  education  will  lay  em- 
pires and  centuries  under  a  rigid  contri- 
bution, and  sweep  in  auxiliaries  from 
the  disclosures  of  science,  and  walk  with 
a  dominant  step  the  firmament,  gather- 
ing conviction  from  the  rich  assem- 
bling of  stars  ;  this  child  of  poverty,  but 
at  the  same  time  of  grace,  shall  throw 
himself  upon  himself;  and  turning  ex- 
perience into  evidence,  be  inaccessible 
to  the  best  concerted  attack  ;  and  make 
answer,  without  flinching,  to  every  cavil 
and  every  objection,  I  knoio  ichom  I  have 
helieved.  His  faith,  whatsoever  it  be  at 
first,  becomes  soon  a  faith  built  upon 
knowledge ;  and  then,  if  not  skilful 
enough  to  show  his  adversary  wrong,  he 
is  too  much  his  own  witness  to  give  har- 
borage to  a  fear  that  he  himself  is  not 
right. 

But  enough  on  the  first  fact  which 
we  proposed  to  investigate,  the  fact 
that  a  believer  obtains  a  knowledge  of 
Christ.  The  second  fact  is  almost  in- 
volved in  the  first, — so  that  the  slight- 
est reference  to  truth  already  made  out, 
will  show  you  that    the    knowledge 

THUS  OBTAINED  IS  SUCH  AS  TO  GENERATE 
CONFIDENCE. 

You  observe  that,  in  the  case  of  St, 
Paul,  knowledge  was  accompanied  by 
a  most  thorough  persuasion,  that  Christ 
was  able  to  keep  safe  the  deposit  which 
he  had  given  into  his  guardianship. 
We  infer,  therefore,  that  the  knowledge, 
since  it  produced  this  persuasion,  must 
have  been  knowledge  of  Christ  as  po3- 
35. 


274 


0\  THE  STRENGTH  WHICH  FAITH  GAIN'S  BY  EXPERIENCE. 


Bessing  those  attributes  which  insured 
the  security  of  whatsoever  might  be  in- 
trusted to  his  custody.  And  this  is  pre- 
cisely what  we  have  proved  to  hold  good 
in  regard  generally  to  believers.  The 
knowledge  which  their  experience  fur- 
nishes of  Christ  is  knowledge  of  his 
power,  of  his  faithfulness,  of  his  love. 
So  far  as  they  have  yet  made  trial  of 
Christ,  they  can  apply  to  themselves  the 
words  of  Joshua  to  Israel,  Not  one  thing 
hath,  failed  of  all  the  good  things  which 
the  Lord  your  God  spake  concerning  you. 
And  certainly,  if  the  result  of  every  ex- 
periment is  a  new  witness  to  the  joint 
ability  and  willingness  of  the  Mediator 
to  succor  and  preserve  l>is  people,  you 
cannot  well  avoid  the  conclusion,  that 
knowledge  must  produce  confidence  ; 
in  other  words,  that  the  more  a  believer 
knows  of  Christ,  the  more  persuaded 
will  he  be  of  his  worthiness  to  be  intrust- 
ed with  all  the  interests  of  man.  If  our 
knowledge  of  Christ  prove  tt)  us  that, 
up  to  the  present  moment,  Christ  hath 
done  for  us  all  that  he  hath  promised,  it 
is  clear  that  this  knowledge  must  be  a 
ground-work  for  confidence,  that  what 
remains  unfulfilled  will  be  accomplished 
with  an  equal  fidelity.  Already  has  the 
believer  committed  every  thing  to  Christ. 
Faith — saving  faith — whatever  other  de- 
finitions may  be  framed — is  best  de- 
scribed as  that  act  of  the  soul  by  which 
the  whole  man  is  given  over  to  the 
guardianship  of  the  Mediator.  He  who 
thus  resigns  himself  to  Jesus  avouches 
two  things  ;  first,  his  belief  that  he  needs 
a  protector ;  secondly,  his  belief  that 
Cliiist  is  just  that  protector  which  his 
necessities  require.  And  though  you 
may  resolve  saving  faith  into  more  nu- 
merous elements,  you  will  find  that  these 
two  are  not  only  the  chief,  but  that  they 
include  all  others  out  of  wliicli  it  is  con- 
stituted ;  so  that  he  who  believes  in 
Christ,  gives  himself  up  to  the  keeping 
of  Christ.  And  forasmuch  as  expe- 
rience proves  to  him,  that  heretofore  he 
has  been  safe  in  this  custody,  assuredly 
the  acquired  knowledge  must  go  to  the 
working  in  him  a  persuasion  that  here- 
after he  shall  be  kept  in  an  equal  socur- 
ity. 

We  thus  trace  the  connection  be- 
tween the  knowledge  of  the  first,  and 
the  persuasion  of  the  second  part  of 
our  text.  We  show  you,  that  a  believer 
will  gather  from  his  own  experience  of 


Christ  the  material  of  confidence  in 
Christ's  ability  to  preserve  all  that  is 
committed  to  his  keeping.  Experience 
being  his  evidence  that  Christ  hath 
never  yet  failed  him,  is  also  his  earnest 
that  the  future  comes  charged  with  no- 
thing but  the  accomplishment  of  prom- 
ise. And  therefore  is  he  confident. 
Oh,  if  I  deceive  not  myself, — if  I  have 
actually  been  enabled,  through  the  aid 
of  God's  Spirit,  to  fasten  my  faith  up- 
on Him  who  died  for  me,  and  rose,  and 
lives  to  intercede, — why  should  I  not 
stay  myself  on  this  persuasion  of  St. 
Paul,  that  Christ  is  able  to  keep  that 
which  I  have  coynmitted,  unto  him  against 
that  day  1  Soul  and  body — the  believer 
commits  both  to  the  Mediator.  The 
soul — she  must  be  detached  from  the 
tabernacle  of  flesh,  and  go  forth  alone  on 
an  unexplored  pathway.  Who  shall 
tell  us  the  awfulness  of  being  suddenly 
launched  into  infinity  %  Who  shall  con- 
ceive the  prodigies  of  that  moment, 
when,  shaking  itself  free  from  the  tram- 
mels of  the  body,  the  spirit  struggles 
forth,  solitary  and  naked,  and  must 
make  its  way  across  unknown  tracts 
into  the  burning  presence  of  an  unseen 
God  %  Terrible  dissolution  !  Who  ever 
saw  a  fellow-man  die  without  being  al- 
most staggered  at  the  thought  of  that 
mighty  journey  upon  which  the  uncloth- 
ed soul  had  just  been  compelled  to  enter  ? 
But  shall  the  believer  in  Christ  Jesus 
be  appalled  %  Does  he  not  know  Christ 
as  having  ransomed  the  souls  of  his 
people,  washed  them  in  his  blood,  and 
covered  them  with  his  righteousness  f 
Has  he  not  found  a  witness  in  himself, 
that  precious  is  his  soul  in  the  sight  of 
the  Redeemer  %  What  then  1  Shall 
he  be  otherwise  than  persuaded  that 
Christ  will  watch  over  the  soul  at  the 
instant  of  separation  from  the  body  ;  and 
putting  forth  that  authority  which  has 
been  given  him  in  heaven  and  earth,  send 
a  legion  of  bright  angels  to  convey  the 
spirit,  and  lead  it  to  himself?  Then  safe- 
ly lodged  in  Paradise,  the  soul  shall 
await  reunion  with  the  body,  unspeak- 
ably, though  not  yet  completely  blessed. 
To  all  this  is  Christ  Jesus  pledged  ;  and 
knowing  from  his  own  experience  that 
.Jesus  makes  no  pledge  which  he  does 
not  redeem,  the  believer  commits  his 
soul  to  Christ,  jiersuaded  that  he  is  able 
to  keep  that  which  he  hath  committed 
unto  him  against  that  day.     The  body 


ON  THE  STRENGTH  WHICH  FAITH  GAINS  BY  EXPERIENCE. 


275 


— it  must  be  spoiled  of  life,  and  bound 
up  for  burial,  and  left  to  corruption.  It 
is  a  mysterious  destiny,  that  of  this 
frame-work  of  matter.  Its  atoms  may 
be  scattered  to  the  four  winds  of  hea- 
ven. They  may  go  down  to  the  caverns 
of  the  great  deep, — they  may  enter  into 
the  construction  of  other  bodies.  And 
certainly,  unless  there  be  bi-ought  to  the 
agency  a  power  every  way  infinite,  it 
might  well  be  regarded  as  an  absurd 
expectation  that  the  dissevered  particles 
should  again  come  together,  and  that 
the  identical  body,  with  all  its  organs 
and  all  its  limbs,  which  is  broken  up 
piecemeal  by  the  blow  of  death,  should 
be  re-formed  and  re-moulded,  the  same 
in  every  thing,  except  in  the  being  in- 
corruptible and  imperishable.  But  the 
believer  knows  that  there  is  a  distinct 
and  solemn  promise  of  Christ  which  has 
respect  to  the  bodies  of  his  people.  I 
tmll  raise  him  njj  at  the  last  day,  is  the 
repeated  assurance  in  regard  to  the  man 
who  believes  upon  his  name, — so  that 
the  Redeemer  is  as  deeply  pledged  to 
be  the  guardian  of  a  believer's  dust  as 
of  a  believer's  soul.  He  ransomed  mat- 
ter as  well  as  spirit ;  and  descending  him- 
self into  the  sepulchre,  scattered  the 
seeds  of  a  new  subsistence,  which,  ger- 
minating on  the  morning  of  the  judg- 
ment, shall  cover  the  globe  with  the  vast 
harvest  of  its  buried  population.  And, 
therefore,  the  believer  can  be  confident. 
Overwhelming  in  its  greatness  as  the 
achievement  is,  it  surpasses  not  the  en- 
ergies of  the  Agent  unto  whom  it  is  as- 
cribed. Christ  raised  himself — an  un- 
speakably mightier  exploit  than  raising 
me.  Can  I  not  then  take  share  in  the 
persuasion  of  St.  Paul  ]  Let  darkness 
be  woven  for  my  shroud,  and  the  grave 
be  hollowed  for  my  bed,  and  the  worm 
be  given  for  my  companion — with  thee, 
O  Christ,  I  intrust  this  body.  J  know 
whom  I  have  helieved.  The  winds  may 
disperse,  the  waters  may  ingulf,  and  the 
fires  may  rarify  the  atoms  which  made 
up  this  frame  ;  hut  I  know  that  my  Re- 
deemer liveth,  and  though  after  my  skin 
toorms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in  my  Jlesh 


shall  I  see  God.  Thus,  body  as  well  aa 
soul,  the  believer  commits  himself  whol- 
ly to  Christ, — and  experience  witness- 
ing to  Christ's  power  and  Christ's  faith- 
fulness, he  can  exclaim  with  the  apostle, 
/  am  -persuaded  that  he  is  able  to  keep 
that  which  I  have  cormnitted  unto  Jtim 
against  that  day.  That  day — we  need 
not  tell  the  believer  what  day.  His 
thoughts  and  his  hopes  are  on  the  se- 
cond advent  of  his  Lord  ;  and  though  no 
day  has  been  specified,  yet  speak  of 
tJiat  day,  and  the  allusion  is  distinctly 
understood  ;  the  mind  springs  forward  to 
meet  the  descending  pomp  of  the  Judge, 
and  that  august  period  is  anticipated, 
when,  vindicating  before  the  universe 
the  fidelity  of  his  guardianship,  Christ 
shall  consign  his  followers  to  glory  and 
blessedness  ;  and,  apportioning  noble  al- 
lotments to  both  body  and  soul,  prove 
that  nothing  has  been  lost  of  that  un- 
measured deposit,  which,  from  Adam 
downwards  to  the  last  elect,  has  accu- 
mulated in  his  keeping. 

Oh,  that  we  all  had  the  persuasion  of 
St.  Paul !  rather — oh,  that  we  all,  like 
the  apostle,  would  resign  ourselves  to 
Christ.  Able  to  save  to  the  uttermosty 
Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go-;  tJiou  hast  the 
words  of  eternal  life.  Thou  who  hast 
abolished  death,  upon  whom  else  shall 
we  suspend  our  immortality  %  Thou  who 
hast  spoiled  principalities  and  powers, 
whom  else  shall  we  take  as  our  cham- 
pion ]  whom  else  confide  in  as  our  pro- 
tector %  May  God,  by  his  Spirit,  lead  you 
all  to  the  one  Mediator  between  God 
and  men, — the  man  Christ  Jesus  :  and 
may  we  all  be  enabled  so  completely  to 
resign  ourselves  into  the  hands  of  Christ, 
that  we  may  look  forward  without  dread 
to  the  hour  of  our  departure ;  assured 
that  those  black  and  cold  waters  which 
roll  in  upon  the  dying  shall  sweep  noth- 
ing away  out  of  the  watchfulness  of  our 
guardian;  but  just  bearing  us  within  the 
sphere  of  his  peculiar  inspections,  give 
us  up  to  his  care  as  children  of  the  re- 
surrection,— as  heirs  of  that  inheritance 
which  is  incorruptible  and  undefiled. 


S  E  R  M  ONI. 


JACOB'S  VISION  AND  VOW. 


"And  he  dreamed,  aad  behold  a  ladder  set  up  on  the  earth,  and  the  top  of  it  reached  to  heaven:  and  behold  Um 
anjcis  of  God  ascc»dii;g  and  descending  on  it  " — Genesis  xxviii  :  12. 


It  is  the  registered  saying  of  a  man, 
eminent  alike  for  talent  and  piety,  that 
he  had  never  found  such  strong  argu- 
ments against  the  Bible,  in  the  writings 
of  infidels,  as  had  suggested  them- 
selves to  his  own  mind.  We  are  inclined 
to  suppose  that  this  individual  expressed 
what  many  have  experienced.  We  can 
readily  believe  that  doubts  and  difficul- 
ties will  occasionally  be  presented  to 
those  who  read  the  sacred  volume  as 
the  word  of  God,  which  never  meet  the 
sceptical,  who  read  only  that  they  may 
object.  There  would  be  nothing  to  sur- 
prise us,  if  such  could  be  proved  gene- 
rally the  fact.  Where  there  is  a  spir- 
itual perception,  apparent  inconsisten- 
cies with  the  divine  character  will  be 
more  readily  detected,  than  where  there 
is  a  decided  aversion  to  all  that  is  holy. 
It  should  moreover  be  remembered,  that 
Satan  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the 
injecting  sceptical  thoughts  into  the 
mind  :  and  we  may  fairly  expect  that 
he  will  so  proportion  his  attack  to  its 
subject,  as  to  suggest  the  strongest  ar- 
guments where  there  is  most  to  over- 
come. The  man  who  is  studying  the 
Bil)le  with  the  express  design  of  prov- 
ing it  a  forgery,  will  have  little  assist- 
ance, as  it  were,  from  Satan,  in  prose- 
cuting the  attempt :  he  already  disbe- 
lieves the  Bible,  and  this  is  enough  for 
our  great  adversary,  the  devil.  But  the 
man,  on  the  contrary,  who  is  studyin"^ 
the  Bible  as  an  inspired  book,  will  be 
conriiiually  beset,  and  vehemently  as- 
sauhcd,  by  Satan.  There  is  here  a  <rreat 
object  to  be  gained,  the  shaking  his  con- 
fidence in  the  divine  nrigin  of  Scripture  ; 
and  it  may,  theicfore,  well  l)e  expected 
that  ri)e  devil  will  exert  all  his  ingenuity 


in  devising,  and  all  his  earnestness  in 
suggesting  objections. 

VVe  do  not  intend  to  follow  out  the 
train  of  thought  thus  opened  before  you. 
We  have  made  these  remarks  as  intro- 
ductory to  one  which  you  may  have  of- 
ten made  for  yourselves,  namely,  that 
scejJtics,  as  though  blinded  and  bewilder' 
ed,  frequently  adduce,  as  arguments 
against  the  Bible,  what  are  really  argu- 
ments in  its  favor.  For  example,  how 
constantly  and  eagerly  are  the  faults  and 
crimes  of  the  Old  Testament  saints 
brought  forward,  and  commented  on ! 
In  how  triumphant  a  tone  is  the  ques- 
tion proposed.  Could  these  have  been 
men  "  after  God's  own  heart  1 "  Yet 
certainly  it  does  not  need  much  acute- 
ness  to  discover,  that  the  recording  these 
faults  and  crimes  is  an  evidence  of  the 
truth  of  Holy  Wa-it.  A  mere  human 
biographer,  anxious  to  pass  off  his  hero 
as  specially  in  favor  with  God,  would 
not  have  ascribed  to  him  actions  which 
a  righteous  God  must  both  disapprove 
and  punish.  Every  writer  of  common 
discernment  must  have  foreseen  the  ob- 
jections which  such  ascriptions  would 
excite.  If,  therefore,  he  liad  been  only 
inventing  a  tale,  he  would  have  avoided 
what  was  almost  sure  to  bring  discredit 
on  the  narrative.  So  that  there  is  a 
manifestation  of  honesty  in  the  register 
given  of  the  sins  of  such  men  as  Abra- 
ham, and  .Tacob,  and  David,  wliich 
should  make  scejitics  pause,  ere  they 
seize  on  tliat  register  as  an  argument 
against  Scripture. 

Besides,  had  holy  men  of  old  been  ex- 
hibited as  faultless,  there  would  have 
been  much  to  make  us  doubt  whether 
the  history  were  faithful,  and  much  to 


JACOB  S    VISION    AND    VOW, 


27ir 


discourage  us  in  our  strivings  after 
righteousness.  There  has  been  but  one 
perfect  character  amongst  men,  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ;  and  of  him  is  noth- 
ing recorded  which  goes  not  to  the  prov- 
ing that  he  was  "holy,  harmless,  unde- 
filed,  and  separate  from  sinners."  All 
others  have  done  much  which  ought  not 
to  have  been  done,  and  left  undone  much 
which  ought  to  have  been  done.  And 
though  we  take  no  pleasure  in  the  faults 
of  others,  we  may  yet  declare  it  satisfac- 
tory to  know  that  those  who  have  enter- 
ed heaven,  were  not  perfect  in  their 
day  and  generation  ;  that,  like  ourselves, 
they  were  "  compassed  with  infirmities," 
often  assaulted,  and  often  overcome  by 
temptation. 

But  thei'e  is  yet  more  to  be  said  in 
regard  to  the  registered  sins  of  men  who 
were  distinguished  by  the  favor  of  God. 
The  infidel  would  have  something  like 
a  fair  ground  of  objection,  if  he  could 
prove  that  sins  were  allowed  to  be  com- 
mitted with  impunity.  If,  for  example, 
he  could  show  that  David  was  visited 
with  no  chastisement  for  the  heinous  sins 
of  murder  and  adultery,  it  would  not  be 
without  reason  that  he  impugned  the 
sacred  narrative  as  at  variance  with  the 
known  principles  of  God's  moral  govern- 
ment. But  if,  after  the  perpetration  of 
these  crimes,  the  days  of  the  king  of 
Israel  were  days,  according  to  the  scrip- 
tural representations,  of  unvaried  trouble 
and  distress,  it  cannot  be  said  that  the 
crimes  entailed  no  punishment,  and  that 
therefore  the  history  is  opposed  to  what 
we  know  of  God's  retributive  dealings. 
Thus  again,  in  reference  to  the  transac- 
tions with  which  our  text  stands  associat- 
ed. It  is  impossible  to  justify  Rebekah 
and  Jacob  in  the  deceit  which  they 
practised  upon  Isaac,  that  they  might 
divert  from  Esau  the  blessing  of  the  first- 
born. Jacob,  as  you  will  remember, 
pi'ompted  by  his  mother  Rebekah,  dis- 
guised himself  in  the  raiment  of  his  el- 
der brother  Esau,  and  thus  imposed  on 
his  father  Isaac,  whose  eyes  were  dim 
with  age.  The  infidel  urges  rightly, 
that  there  was  great  wickedness  in  this  ; 
but  he  argues  wrongly,  that,  since  Jacob 
succeeded  in  his  fraud,  God  is  represent- 
ed as  sanctioning  villany.  The  whole 
history,  on  the  contrary,  is  full  of  witness 
of  God's  retributive  justice.  Isaac  had 
sinned  greatly  in  designing  to  give  Esau 
the  blessinor  of  the  first-born  :  he  knew 


that  God  had  promised  it  to  .Jacol),  and 
he  was  therefore  attempting  to  set  aside 
the  Divine  purpose  and  decree.  And 
God  not  only  frustrated  the  attemjjt,  but 
in  such  manner  as  signally  to  punish  the 
patriarch.  Isaac  is  deceived  by  his  own 
wife  and  son,  and  thus  chastised  with  a 
chastisement  which  must  have  been 
specially  grievous.  Rebekah,  too,  and 
Jacob,  they  both  greatly  offended  by 
using  an  unlawful  mode  of  preventing 
an  unlawful  design.  But  if  both  offend- 
ed, both  were  punished.  Jacob  was  the 
favorite  son  of  Rebekah  ;  and  it  may 
have  been  a  mother's  fondness  which 
moved  her  to  secure  for  him  ;  at  all  haz- 
ards, the  blessing.  But  if  she  th(jught 
that  the  success  of  her  plan  would  in- 
crease her  happiness,  she  was  greatly 
disappointed.  The  immediate  conse- 
quence of  her  success  was,  that  Jacob 
had  to  flee  from  his  father's  house,  and 
become  a  sojourner  in  a  strange  land. 
And  he  returned  not,  as  it  would  seem, 
to  his  home,  until  his  mother  was  deadj 
so  that  Rebekah  saw  not  again  the  son 
of  her  affections.  He  were  a  strange 
calculator,  who  should  say  that  the 
mother  went  unpunished  for  her  sin, 
when,  as  its  direct  consequence,  her 
child  was  torn  from  her  embrace,  and 
not  restored  to  it  on  this  side  the  grave. 
And  as  to  Jacob,  he  indeed  gained  the 
blessing;  and  since  that  blessing  had 
been  promised  him  by  God,  he  would 
have  equally  gained  it  had  he  left  God 
to  secure  the  fulfilment  of  his  own  word. 
But  he  was  imjjatient  and  fearful ;  he 
used  fraud  where  he  should  have  ex- 
ercised faith;  and,  therefore,  though  the 
blessing  was  obtained,  it  brought  with 
it  sorrow  and  afiliction.  The  present 
advantage  was  wholly  on  the  side  of 
Esau.  Esau  remained  in  his  fathei-'s 
house,  in  the  nndisturbed  enjoyment  of 
its  comfort  and  abundance.  But  Jacob 
is  a  wanderer  :  we  find  him,  as  describ- 
ed in  the  chapter  from  which  our  text 
is  taken,  an  outcast  and  a  fugitive,  with 
no  couch  but  the  ground,  and  no  pillow 
but  the  stones.  Yea,  and  in  his  after 
life,  how  signally  did  the  even-handed 
justice  of  the  Almighty  return  to  him 
the  anguish  which  he  had  caused  to 
others.  Deceived  by  Laban,  who  gave 
him  Leah,  in  place  of  Rachel,  on  whom 
his  affections  were  set,  he  was  partially 
requited  for  imposing  upon  Isaac.  But 
this  was   little ;  the  recompense   came 


278 


Jacob's  vision  and  vow. 


not  yet  up  to  the  offence.  His  own 
children  deceive  him,  as  he  had  deceived 
his  fatlier,  and  cheat  him  into  a  belief 
that  Joseph  is  dead.  And  he  must 
mourn  for  Joseph,  even  as  Rebekah  had 
mourned  for  himself,  and  be  separated 
from  him  through  many  weary  years. 
Let  any  one  read  attentively  the  history 
of  Jacob,  and  observe  how  family  trou- 
bles and  sorrows  continually  harassed 
him  ;  and  he  will  not,  we  think,  contend 
that  the  patriarch  went  unpunished  for 
the  fraud  which  lie  had  practised  on 
Isaac. 

We  are  now,  however,  specially  con- 
cerned with  what  happened  to  Jacob, 
as  he  fled  from  the  face  of  his  brother 
Esau :  we  wave,  therefore,  further  re- 
ference to  other  portions  of  his  history. 
We  have  already  said,  that,  in  the  chap- 
ter before  us,  we  find  him  a  wanderer, 
hurrying,  in  fear  of  his  life,  to  his  mo- 
ther's kinsman  in  Haran.  But  though 
Jacob  had  sinned,  and  was  now  under- 
going the  punishment  of  hjs  sin,  God 
would  not  abandon  him,  nor  leave  him 
without  some  encouraging  manifestation. 
Jacob  was  to  be  the  depositary  of  tlie 
promises  of  God,  and  through  him  was 
the  line  of  the  Messiah  to  be  continued. 
It  had  been  declared  to  Abraham,  that 
in  his  seed,  which  was  Isaac,  should  all 
nations  be  blessed  ;  and  of  the  two  sons 
of  Isaac,  God  chose  the  younger  to  be 
the  ancestor  of  Christ.  And  now,  when 
Jacob  might  be  almost  tempted  to  think 
that  there  was  no  worth  in  the  blessing, 
or  that,  because  gained  by  fraud,  it  was 
not  ratified  in  heaven,  God  is  graciously 
pleased  to  vouchsafe  him  a  vision,  and 
thus  to  keep  him  from  despair  whilst 
8uffei-ing  just  punishment.  The  Vision 
greatly  cheered  the  wanderer;  and, 
whilst  it  filled  him  with  apprehensions 
of  the  majesty  of  God,  excited  in  him 
feelings  of  gratitude  and  devotedncss. 
He  accordingly  vowed  a  vow,  strongly 
indicative,  as  we  think,  of  a  lowly  and 
thankful  spirit,  though  many  have  en- 
deavored to  prove  from  it  that  the  pa- 
triarch's religion  was  but  selfish  and 
time-serving.  "  If  God  will  be  with  me, 
and  will  keep  me  in  the  way  that  I  go, 
and  will  give  me  bread  to  eat,  and  rai- 
ment to  ])ut  on,  so  that  I  come  again  to 
my  father's  house  in  peace,  then  shall 
the  Lord  be  my  God."  It  is  our  wish, 
on  the  present  occasion,  to  consider, 
with  due  attention,  both  the  vision  and 


the  vow.  The  vow  must  be  regarded 
as  marking  the  effect  which  the  vision 
had  produced  on  the  mind  of  the  pa- 
triarch, and  therefore  ought  not  to  be  ex- 
cluded from  our  subject-matter  of  dis- 
course :  so  that  we  have  to  engage  you 
with  examining,  in  the  first  place,  the 
vision  with  which  Jacob  was  favored, 
when  on  his  way  to  Padanaram ;  and  in 
the  second  place,  the  vow  through  which 
he  expressed  the  consequent  feelings 
and  workings  of  his  mind. 

Now  the  vision  is  related  in  our  text, 
and  the  three  following  verses.  A  lad- 
der is  beheld,  planted  on  the  earth,  but 
reaching  up  to  heaven.  Above  this  lad- 
der the  Lord  is  seen  to  stand,  and  he 
addresses  Jacob  in  most  encouraging 
words.  He  declares  that  the  land  on 
which  he  lay,  a  fugitive  and  an  exile, 
should  yet  be  given  to  himself  and  his 
posterity,  and  that  his  children  should 
be  multiplied  as  the  dust  of  the  earth. 
The  promise  made  to  Abraham  is  then 
solemnly  renewed  :  "  In  thee  and  in  thy 
seed  shall  all  the  families  of  the  earth 
be  blessed,"  Jacob  is  thus  assured  that 
he  had  indeed  obtained  the  blessing  of 
the  first-born,  and  that  from  his  loins 
was  to  spring  the  great  Deliverer  of  hu- 
mankind. There  are  added  general  de- 
clarations that  he  should  bo  under  the 
guardianship  of  God  in  his  absence 
from  his  home ;  and  then  the  vision  is 
at  an  end,  and  Jacob  awakes,  and  ex- 
presses a  kind  of  awful  conviction  that 
the  Lord  was  in  that  i^lace,  and  he  knew 
it  not. 

Now  our  great  object  is  to  ascertain 
the  intent  of  the  vision  :  for  we  may  bo 
sure  that  the  ladder,  which  thus  reach- 
ed from  earth  to  heaven,  and  along 
which  ascended  and  descended  the  an- 
gels of  God,  was  emblematic  of  some 
truth  with  which  it  was  important  that 
Jacob  should  be  acquainted.  We  aro 
all  aware,  that,  under  the  patriarchal 
dispensation,  lessons  of  the  greatest  mo- 
ment were  given  through  significant  re- 
presentations. We  may  suppose  that 
the  Spirit  of  God  instructed  those  favor- 
ed with  this  mystical  revelation,  so  that 
they  were  enabled  to  detect  the  mean- 
ing symbolically  conveyed.  It  was  not 
consistent  with  the  ])lan  of  God's  deal- 
ings with  this  earth,  that  clear  and  un- 
disguised notices  should  be  given  of  i-e- 
demption,  whilst  the  time  of  the  Re- 
deemer's appearance    was    yet   far   re- 


JACOB  S  VISION  AND  VOW. 


279 


moved.  But  neither  would  it  liavc  con- 
sisted with  the  divine  mercy,  that  the 
patriarchs  should  have  been  left  wholly 
ignorant  of  the  deliverance  to  be  wrought 
out  in  the  fulness  of  time,  or  with  no  in- 
formation but  that  derived  from  early 
tradition.  And  in  order  to  answer  both 
these  ends,  the  keeping  the  plan  conceal- 
ed, and  yet  the  making  its  nature  suffi- 
ciently known,  God  was  pleased  to 
vouchsafe  visions,  and  command  typical 
actions,  by  and  through  which,  as  we 
have  reason  to  believe,  he  communicated 
to  his  saints  such  portions  of  truth  as  it 
most  concerned  them  to  know.  There 
seems  no  reason  to  doubt,  that  Abra- 
ham's offering  up  his  son  was  a  significa- 
tive transaction,  appointed  and  employ- 
ed by  God  to  teach  the  father  of  the 
faithful  how  the  world  would  be  redeem- 
ed. It  is  probable  also  that  Jacob's 
wrestling  with  an  angel,  on  the  nifjht 
which  preceded  his  meeting  with  Esau, 
was  an  instance  of  information  by  action, 
the  patriarch  being  hereby  taught  gene- 
rally what  prevalence  earnest  prayer  has 
with  God,  and  assured  moreover  of  the 
happy  issue  of  the  dreaded  interview  of 
the  morrow.  We  think  it  fair  to  sup- 
pose, that,  in  like  manner,  the  vision 
granted  to  Jacob,  as  he  fled  from  his 
home,  was  designed  to  represent  some 
great  spiritual  truth,  and  was  itself  a 
revelation  of  some  portion  of  the  pur- 
poses of  God.  If  nothing  had  been  in- 
tended beyond  the  assuring  Jacob  of 
divine  favor  and  protection,  the  ladder, 
with  its  attendant  circumstances,  seems 
unnecessarily  introduced  ;  for  the  words, 
spoken  by  God,  would  have  sufficed  to 
console  and  animate  the  wanderer.  It 
is,  therefore,  in  strict  conformity  with 
the  general  character  of  the  patriarchal 
dispensation,  and  in  accordance  with 
the  peculiar  circumstances  of  .Tacob, 
that  we  should  suppose  the  vision  it- 
self emblematical,  so  that,  over  and 
above  the  encouraging  things  which 
were  said,  there  was  a  great  truth  taught 
by  that  which  was  seen.  Hence  the 
question  now  is,  as  to  the  meaning  of 
the  vision  itself,  as  to  the  truths  repre- 
sented by  the  mystical  ladder. 

It  has  often  been  affirmed,  that  no- 
thing more  was  designed  than  the  in- 
forming Jacob  of  the  ever-watchful  pro- 
vidence of  the  Almighty.  We  are  not 
prepared  to  deny  that  the  image  of  a 
ladder,  reaching  from  earth  to  heaven, 


God  himself  appearing  at  its  top,  and 
angels  passing  up  and  down  in  rapid 
succession,  may  be  accommodated  to 
the  workings  of  Divine  providence ;  in- 
asmuch as  a  constant  communication  is 
thus  represented  as  kept  up  between 
this  globe  and  higher  places  in  creation, 
and  God  is  exhibited  as  carrying  on, 
through  the  instrumentality  of  angels, 
unwearied  intercourse  with  the  human 
population.  And  yet,  at  the  same  time, 
we  feel  that  the  figure,  if  this  be  its  im- 
port, scarcely  seems  distinguished  by 
the  aptness  and  force  which  are  al- 
ways characteristic  of  scriptural  imagery. 
The  ladder  appears  to  mark  an  appoint 
ed  channel  of  communication  :  it  can 
hardly  be  said  to  mark  that  universal  in- 
spection of  the  affairs  of  this  earth,  and 
that  universal  care  of  its  inhabitants, 
which  we  are  accustomed  to  understand 
by  the  piovidence  of  God.  Besides,  as 
we  have  already  intimated,  if  the  vision 
tauo:ht  nothinjj  but  that  Jacob  was  the 
object  of  divine  watchfulness  and  pro- 
tection, it  did  not  add  to  the  declara- 
tions with  which  it  was  accompanied ; 
and  the  patriarch  could  gather  no  truth 
from  what  he  saw,  which  he  might  not 
have  equally  gathered  from  what  he 
heard.  And  this,  to  say  the  least,  is  not 
usual  in  God's  recorded  dealings  with 
his  people  :  certainly,  every  part  of  these 
dealings  is  generally  significative,  and 
none  can  be  shown  to  have  been  super- 
fluous. 

We  seem  bound,  therefore,  to  apply 
the  vision  to  other  truths  besides  that 
of  the  providence  of  God.  And  when 
you  observe,  that  one  great  object  of 
the  celestial  manifestation  was  the  re- 
newing with  Jacob  the  promise  made 
to  Abraham  and  Isaac,  you  will  be  quite 
prepared  to  expect  in  the  vision  a  revela- 
tion of  the  Messiah  himself.  Jacob  had 
just  secured  the  distinction  of  being  the 
progenitor  of  Christ ;  and  God  is  about 
to  assure  him,  in  the  words  of  the  origi- 
nal covenant  with  his  fathers,  that  in  his 
seed  should  all  nations  be  blessed. 
How  natural  then  that  some  intelligence 
should  be  communicated  in  regard  of 
the  Christ,  so  that,  vvhilst  the  patriarch 
knew  himself  the  depositary  of  that 
grand  promise  in  which  the  whole  world 
had  interest,  he  might  also  know,  so  far 
as  consisted  with  an  introductory  dis- 
pensation, what  the  blessings  were 
which  the  promise  insured.     It  must  be 


280 


JACOB  S  VISION  AND  VOW. 


fair  to  suppose  tliat  what  Jacob  saw  liad 
an  intimate  coniieciidU  with  what  ho 
heard,  and  that  the  vision  was  intended, 
either  to  illustrate,  or  be  illustrated  l)y, 
the  subsequent  discourse.  But  there  is 
nothing  in  the  discourse,  excej>t  that 
promise  wliich  had  reference  t(;  Christ, 
on  which  it  can  be  said  that  obscurity 
rests.  The  other  parts  liave  to  do  with 
that  guardianship,  of  which  Jacob  should 
be  the  object,  and  with  the  greatness 
of  that  nation,  of  which  he  should  be 
-he  ancestor.  Hence  the  likelihood,  if 
we  may  not  use  a  stronger  expression, 
is  considerable,  that  the  vision  should 
be  associated  with  the  promise  of  the 
Christ ;  and  that,  as  the  one  assured 
Jacob  that  the  Mediator  should  arise 
from  his  line,  the  other  emblematically 
infoimed  him  of  this  Mediator's  person 
and  work. 

We  would  add  to  this,  that  our  Sa- 
vior, in  his  conversation  with  Nathanael, 
used  language  which  seems  undoubtedly 
to  refer  to  the  mystic  ladder  on  which 
the  pati-iarch  gazed.  "  Verily,  verily,  I 
say  unto  you,  Hereafter  you  shall  see 
heaven  open,  and  the  angels  of  God  as- 
cending and  descending  upon  the  Son 
of  Man."  Here  the  Redeemer  appears 
to  identiiy  himself,  as  the  Son  of  Man, 
with  the  ladder :  the  angels  are  to  as- 
cend and  descend  on  the  one,  even  as 
they  did  on  the  other.  We  may  find 
occasion,  in  the  sequel,  to  recur  to  this 
saying  of  Christ,  and  to  examine  it  more 
at  length.  At  present,  we  simply  ad- 
duce it  as  corroborating  the  opinion, 
that  the  ladder  represented  the  Media- 
tor ;  and  that,  as  Abraham  had  been 
symbolically  taught  that  tlie  world  should 
be  redeemed  through  the  sacrifice  of  a 
substitute,  so  was  Jacob  now  symbolical- 
ly instructed  in  regard  of  that  substitute's 
nature  and  dignity. 

But,  of  course,  the  great  point  re- 
mains yet  to  be  examined,  namely, 
whether  the  vision  in  ([ueslion  furnished 
an  accurate  representation  of  the  pi'omis- 
ed  deliverer.  And  here  we  affirm  at 
once,  that,  if  the  ladder  seen  by  Jacob 
be  regarded  as  a  type  of  the  Mediator, 
there  is  an  apposi'.eness  in  the  figure 
which  must  commend  itself  to  all  think- 
ing minds.  Cut  ofi'  by  apostucy  from 
all  intercourse  with  what  is  yet  glorious 
and  undefilcd  in  the  universe,  the  hu- 
man race  lies  natuially  in  wretchedness 
and  loneliness  ;  and,  though  it  may  cast 


eager  looks  at  the  bright  heaven  which 
is  above,  has  no  means  of  holding  com- 
munion with  the  tenants,  or  gaining  ad- 
mission to  the  gladness,  of  dumains  which 
may  be  jirivileged  with  special  manifes- 
tations oi'  Deity.  Who  of  all  our  fallen 
line,  is  possessed  of  a  power,  or  can 
frame  an  engine,  through  which  he  may 
ascend  from  a  planet  which  labors  be- 
neath the  provoked  curse  of  God,  and 
climb  the  battlements  of  the  sky,  and 
achieve  entrance  into  the  city,  into 
which  is  to  enter  nothing  that  defileth  ? 
Who  is  there,  if  the  Almighty  had  dealt 
with  this  world  according  to  its  ini- 
quities, and  left  it  in  the  ruin  threaten- 
ed to  transgression,  that  could  have  so 
found  out  God  by  the  might  of  his  rea- 
son, and  so  propitiated  him  by  the  might 
of  his  virtue ;  as  to  have  renewed  the 
broken  friendship  between  the  human 
and  the  divine,  and  opened  a  clear  way 
for  the  passage  of  the  earthly  to  the 
heavenly  ?  All  of  you,  if  believers  in 
revelation,  know  and  admit  .that  the 
direct  consequence  of  our  forefather's 
sin  was  the  suspension  of  all  intercourse, 
except  that  carried  on  through  the  min- 
istry of  vengeance,  between  God  and 
man.  Up  to  the  moment  of  rebellion 
there  had  been  free  communion  :  earth 
and  heaven  seemed  connected  by  a  path 
which  the  very  Deity  loved  to  traverse  ; 
for  he  came  down  to  the  garden  where 
our  first  pai-ents  dwelt,  and  held  with 
them  most  intimate  converse.  But,  in 
rebelling,  man  broke  up,  as  it  were,  this 
path,  rendering  it  impracticable  that  any 
should  escape  from  the  heritage  on 
which  evil  had  gained  footing,  and  mount 
to  bright  lands  where  all  was  yet  pure. 
And  we  know  of  no  more  striking  and 
accui'ate  representation  of  the  condition 
of  our  race,  iti  its  alienation  from  God, 
than  that  which  should  picture  the  earth 
as  suddenly  deprived  of  every  channel 
of  communication  with  other  sections 
of  the  universe,  so  that  it  must  wander 
on  in  appalling  solitariness,  a  prison- 
house  from  which  nothing  human  could 
soar,  and  which  nothing  divine  could 
visit.  Ay,  this  was  the  earth,  so  soon 
as  Satan  had  seduced  man  from  alle- 
giance; a  lonely  thing,  which  had  snap- 
ped every  link  which  bound  it  to  what 
was  holy  and  happy  in  creation  :  and, 
as  it  bore  along  the  lost  children  of 
Adam,  they  might  have  gazed  wistfully 
on  lands  just  visible  in  the  firm?  ■«£ut 


JACOB  S    VISION    AND    VOW. 


281 


and  which  they  knew  to  be  radiant  with 
the  presence  of  their  Maker  :  but  where 
was  the  way  across  the  vast  expanse, 
where  tlie  mechanism  by  wliich  they 
might  scale  the  inaccessible  heights  ? 

And  undoubtedly,  if  it  be  a  just  re- 
presentation of  our  race,  in  its  fallen 
estate,  that  it  is  cut  off  from  all  inter- 
course with  God,  and  all  access  to  hea- 
ven, it  must  be  a  just  representation  of 
the  Mediator,  that  he  is  the  channel 
through  which  the  lost  communion  may 
be  renewed,  the  way  through  which 
the  lost  paradise  may  be  re-entered. 
The  world  has  not  been  left  in  its  soli- 
tariness :  for  God  "  hath  in  these  last 
days  spoken  unto  us  by  his  Son  ;"  and 
through  him  we  have  "  access  to  the 
Father."  We  are  not  forced  to  remain 
in  our  exile  and  wretchedness  :  for 
Christ  hath  declared,  "  By  me,  if  any 
man  enter  in,  he  shall  be  saved,  and 
shall  go  in  and  out,  and  find  pasture." 
Yea,  we  can  now  thank  the  "Lord  of 
heaven  and  earth,"  that  the  broken 
links  have  been  repaired,  so  that  the 
severed  parts  of  creation  may  be  again 
bound  into  one  household;  that  a  high- 
way has  been  thrown  up,  along  which 
the  weary  and  heavy-laden  may  pass  to 
that  rest  which  remaineth  for  the  peo- 
ple of  God.  But  it  is  only  telling  you 
truths,  with  which  we  may  hope  that 
the  very  youngest  are  acquainted,  to 
tell  you  that  it  is  Christ  alone  by  whom 
all  this  has  been  effected,  Christ  alone 
through  whom  we  can  approach  God, 
Christ  alone  through  whom  we  can  en- 
ter the  kingdom  of  heaven.  And  what 
then  more  accurate  than  a  delineation, 
which  should  represent  the  Mediator 
under  the  image  of  a  ladder,  based  on 
earth,  but  reaching  to  heaven,  and  thus 
affording  a  medium  of  communication 
between  God  and  man  1  Oh,  as  Jacob 
lay  upon  the  ground,  an  exile  from  his 
father's  house,  and  without  a  friend  or 
companion,  he  was  not  an  inappropri- 
ate figure  of  the  human  race,  forced  away 
by  sin  from  the  presence  of  their  Maker, 
and  with  no  associates  to  aid  by  their 
counsel,  and  cheer  by  their  sympathy. 
And  when,  in  visions  of  the  night,  there 
rose  before  the  patriarch  the  appearance 
as  of  a  ladder,  planted  on  the  earth,  but 
its  top  resting  on  the  firmament,  then, 
may  we  affirm,  was  there  given  to  the 
wanderer  the  strongest  assurance,  that 
God  would  yet  provide  means  for  rais- 


ing the  ruined  from  degradation,  and 
gathering  into  his  own  dwelling-place 
the  banished  and  fallen.  When,  more- 
over, this  expressive  emblem  of  renewed 
intercourse  between  earth  and  heaven 
was  accompanied  by  the  voice  of  the  liv- 
ing God,  making  mention  of  the  deliverer 
in  whom  the  world  should  be  blessed, 
then  might  it  be  declared  that  the  re- 
velation was  complete,  and  that  thi-ough 
the  mystic  ladder  was  the  Gospel  preach- 
ed to  Jacob ;  for  in  this  figure  he  could 
read  that  the  seed  of  the  woman  would 
be  the  Mediator  between  God  and  man, 
"  the  repairer  of  the  breach,  the  restorer 
of  paths  to  dwell  in,"  and  who,  as  "  the 
way,  the  truth,  and  the  life,"  would 
"  open  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  all  be- 
lievers. ' 

But  it  is  necessary  that  we  go  some- 
what more  into  particulars  :  hitherto  we 
have  only  spoken  of  Christ  in  his  me- 
diatorial oflSce,  without  referring  to  the 
mysteries  of  his  person.  The  emblem, 
however,  of  the  ladder  is  accurate  in  re- 
gard of  the  jjerson,  as  well  as  the  work, 
of  the  Redeemer.  As  the  ladder  stretch- 
ed into  the  heavens,  and  the  very  Deity 
occupied  its  summit,  so  Christ,  in  his 
divine  nature,  penetrated  immensity, 
and  was  one  with  the  Father.  And  as 
the  ladder,  though  its  top  was  on  the 
sky,  was  set  upon  the  earth,  so  Christ, 
though  essentially  God,  took  upon  him 
flesh,  and  was  ''  found  in  fashion  as  a 
man."  The  ladder  would  be  useless,  if 
it  rested  not  on  the  ground,  or  if  it  reach- 
ed not  to  the  sky  :  and  thus,  had  not 
Christ  been  both  earthly  and  heavenly, 
both'  human  and  divine,  he  could  not 
have  been  the  Mediator,  through  whom 
the  sinful  may  approach,  and  be  recon- 
ciled to  their  Maker.  As  God  appeared 
standing  above  the  ladder,  looking 
down  with  complacency  on  his  servant, 
and  addressing  him  in  gracious  and  en- 
couraging words,  so  it  is  only  in  and 
through  Christ  that  the  Father  beholds 
us  with  favor,  and  speaks  to  us  the  lan- 
guage of  forgiveness  and  friendship. 
In  respect,  moreover,  of  the  angels,  who 
were  seen  ascending  and  descending  on 
the  ladder,  we  cannot  doubt  that  these 
celestial  beings,  though  they  now  attend 
us  as  ministering  spirits,  would  have  held 
no  communication  with  our  race,  had 
it  remained  unredeemed.  We  know 
that  God  is  spoken  of  by  St.  Paul,  in 
his  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians,  as  "  gather- 
36 


282 


Jacob's  vision  and  vow. 


ing:  totjetlicr  in  one  all  thino^s  in  Christ, 
both  which  arc  in  heaven,  and  wliich 
are  on  earth,  even  in  him;"  and  again, 
in  his  Epistle  to  the  Colossians,  as  "  by 
him  reconciling  all  things  to  himself, 
whether  they  be  things  in  earth,  or  things 
in  heaven."  And  it  is  evidently  the  drift 
of  such  expressions,  that,  by  and  through 
the  mediation  of  Christ,  the  fellowship 
of  the  human  race  with  other  orders  of 
being  was  to  be  restored,  and  men  and 
angels  were  to  be  brought  into  associa- 
tion. Indeed  we  know  ourselves  in- 
debted to  the  Mediator  for  every  bless- 
ing :  if,  theref<jre,  we  regard  angels  as 
"  the  ministers  of  God  which  do  his 
pleasure,"  and  through  whose  instru- 
mentality he  carries  on  designs,  whether 
of  Providence  or  of  grace,  we  must  feel 
sure  that  we  owe  it  exclusively  to  Christ, 
that  these  glorious  creatures  are  busied 
with  promoting  our  welfai-e.  And  if 
then  the  continued  descent  and  ascent 
of  the  angels  mark,  as  we  suppose  it 
must,  their  coming  down  on  commis- 
sions in  which  men  have  interest,  and 
their  returning  to  receive  fi'esh  instruc- 
tions, there  is  peculiar  fitness  in  the 
representation  of  their  ascending  and 
descending  by  a  ladder  which  is  figura- 
tive of  Clirist :  it  is  a  direct  result  of 
Christ's  mediation,  that  angels  are  sent 
forth  as  "  ministering  spirits,  to  minister 
for  them  who  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation," 
and  if  then  a  ladder,  reaching  from  earth 
to  heaven,  be  a  just  emblem  of  the  Savior, 
it  is  in  the  nicest  keeping  with  this  em- 
blem, that,  up  and  down  the  ladder, 
should  be  rapidly  passing  the  cherubim 
and  the  seraphim. 

We  would  further  observe  that  some 
writers  appear  anxious  to  prove,  that 
the  appearance,  which  the  patriarch  saw, 
was  not  precisely  that  of  a  ladder,  but 
probably  that  of  a  pyramid,  or  pillar. 
There  is  a  want  of  dignity,  they  think, 
in  the  imago  of  a  ladder,  and  they  would 
therefoie  sul)3titute  a  more  imposing. 
But  though  many  of  the  same  truths 
might  be  taught,  if  theie  were  the  sup- 
posed change  in  the  emblem,  we  are  no 
ways  affected  by  the  homeliness  of  the 
figure,  but  think,  on  the  contrary, 
that  it  adds  to  its  fitness.  It  was  the 
declaration  of  prophecy  in  regard  to  the 
Christ,  "  He  hath  no  form  nor  comeli- 
ness ;  and  when  we  shall  see  hiin,  tliere 
is  no  beauty  that  we  should  desire  him." 
And,  therefore,  if  he  is  to  be  delineated 


as  connecting  earth  and  heaven,  wo 
should  expect  the  image  to  be  that  of  a 
ladder,  a  common  instrument  with  no- 
thin<T  of  the  grand  and  attractive,  rather 
than  of  a  splendid  tower,' such  as  that  of 
Babel,  which  men  themselves  would  do 
light  to  rear,  and,  when  reared,  to  admire. 
Besides,  however  we  would  avoid  the 
straining  a  type,  we  own  that  the  repre- 
sentation of  Christ,  under  the  figure  of 
a  ladder,  appears  to  us  to  include  the 
most  exact  references  to  the  appointed 
mode  of  salvation.  How  do  1  look  to 
be  saved  1  by  clinging  to  Christ.  How 
do  I  expect  to  ascend  up  to  heaven  ?  by 
mounting,  step  by  step,  the  whole  height 
of  Christ's  work,  so  that  he  is  made  un- 
to me  of  God,  "  wisdom,  and  righteous- 
ness, and  sanctification,  and  redemp- 
tion. "  It  is  no  easy  thing,  the  gaining 
eternal  life  through  the  finished  work 
of  the  Mediator.  It  is  a  vast  deal  more 
than  the  sitting  with  the  prophet  in  his 
car  of  fire,  and  being  borne  aloft,  with- 
out effort,  to  an  incorruptible  inher- 
itance. "  The  kingdom  of  heaven  suf- 
fereth  violence,  and  the  violent  take  it 
by  force."  There  must  be,  if  we  may 
thus  express  it,  a  holding  fast  to  Christ, 
and  a  climbing  up  by  Christ ;  to  look 
back  is  to  grow  dizzy,  to  let  go  is  to 
perish.  And  that  we  are  to  mount  by 
the  Mediator,  and,  all  the  while,  to  keep 
h(jld  on  the  Mediator ;  that  we  are,  in 
short,  to  ascend  by  successive  stages, 
stretching  the  hand  to  one  line  after  an- 
other in  the  work  of  the  Redeemer,  and 
planting  the  foot  on  one  step  after  an- 
other in  the  covenant  made  with  us  in 
Christ — what  can  more  aptly  exhibit 
this,  than  the  exhibiting  Christ  as  a  lad- 
der, set  upon  the  earth  that  men  may 
scale  the  heavens  1  The  necessity  for 
our  own  striving,  and  yet  the  useless- 
ness  of  that  striving  if  not  exerted  in  the 
right  maimer ;  the  impossibility  of  our 
entering  heaven  except  through  Christ, 
and  the  equal  impossibility  of  our 
entering  it,  without  effort  and  toil ;  the 
fearful  peril  of  our  relaxing,  for  an  in- 
stant, our  spiritual  vigilance  and  eari  est- 
ness,  seeing  that  we  hang,  as  it  were, 
between  earth  and  heaven,  and  may  be 
thrown,  by  a  moment's  carelessness, 
headlonor  to  the  ground  ;  the  complete- 
ness  and  singleness  or  the  salvation 
which  is  in  Jesus,  so  that,  if  we  adhere 
I  to  it,  it  is  suflicient,  but  there  are  no 
j  modes  which  meet  in  it,  or  branch  off 


JACOB'S  VISION  AND  VOW. 


28S 


from  it — swerve  a  single  inch,  and  you 
have  no  footing,  but  must  be  hopelessly 
precipitated  ;  all  these  particulars  seem 
indicated  under  the  imagery  of  a  ladder, 
and  could  not  perhaps  have  been  equal- 
ly marked,  had  some  other  emblem  been 
given  of  the  connecting  of  earth  and 
heaven  by  the  Mediator,  Christ.  And 
now,  as  I  stand  upon  the  earth,  the 
child  of  a  fallen  and  yet  redeemed  race, 
and  examine  how  I  may  escape  the 
heritage  of  shame  which  is  naturally 
my  portion,  and  soar  to  that  sky  which 
w^oos  me  by  its  brightness,  oh,  I  read  of 
"  entering  into  the  holiest  by  the  blood 
of  Jesus,"  and  of  "  laying  hold  upon  the 
hope  set  before  us,"  and  of  "  following 
on  to  know  the  Lord,"  and  of  being 
"  raised  up,  and  being  made  to  sit  to- 
gether in  heavenly  places  in  Christ," — 
expressions  which  prove  to  me,  that,  if 
I  would  reach  heaven,  it  must  be  through 
fastening  myself  to  the  Mediator,  and 
yet  straining  every  nerve  to  leave  the 
w^orld  behind  ;  leaning  incessantly  upon 
Christ,  and  yet  laboring  to  diminish,  by 
successive  steps,  my  distance  from  God; 
being  always  "  found  in  Christ,"  and  yet 
"  led  by  the  Spirit,"  so  as  to  be  always  on 
the  advance.  But  when  I  consider  these 
scriptural  combinations  of  believing  and 
workinor  trustin":  in  another  and  laboring: 
for  one's  self,  always  having  hold  on 
Christ,  and  always  mounting  to  greater 
nearness  to  God,  always  supported  by 
the  same  suretyship  and  always  pressing 
upward  to  the  same  point,  I  seem  to 
have  before  me  the  exact  picture  of  a 
man,  who,  with  a  steady  eye  and  a  firm 
foot,  and  a  stanch  hand,  climbs  by  a 
ladder  some  mighty  precipice  :  he  could 
make  no  way,  whatever  his  strivings, 
without  the  ladder,  and  the  ladder  is 
utterly  useless  without  his  own  strivings. 
May  we  not,  therefore,  contend,  that, 
through  the  vision  vouchsafed  to  the  pa- 
triarch Jacob,  God  not  only  revealed 
the  person  and  work  of  the  Mediator, 
but  gave  information,  and  that  too  in  no 
very  equivocal  shape,  how  the  working 
out  salvation  will  be  combined  with  the 
being  saved  "  freely  through  the  re- 
demption that  is  in  Clu'ist,"  whenever 
any  of  the  children  of  men  are  raised 
from  earth  and  elevated  to  heaven  1 

But  it  will  be  right  that,  before  leav- 
ing this  portion  of  our  subject,  we  re- 
cur to  our  Lord's  speech  to  Nathatiael, 
which  has  already  been  quoted.     It  is 


easy  to  decide  that  Christ  designed  a 
reference  to  Jacob's  vision,  but  not  to 
determine  the  precise  meaning  of  Ins 
words.  "  Hereafter  ye  shall  see  heaven 
open,  and  the  angels  of  God  ascending 
and  descending  upon  the  Son  of  Man." 
The  words  are  prophetic,  but  there  is 
nothing  to  inform  us  what  time  may  be 
intended  by  "  hereafter."  We  cannot, 
however,  but  think,  thai  however  inge- 
nious may  be  the  interpretations  which 
authors  have  advanced,  nothing  has  yet 
happened  which  quite  fulfils  the  prophe- 
cy.* We  doubt  whether  there  were  any 
occurrences,  during  Christ's  residence 
on  earth,  which  could  be  said  to  bring 
to  pass  the  visible  opening  of  heaven, 
and  the  ascent  and  descent  of  angels  on 
the  Mediator.  Christ  had  not  indeed 
wrought  miracles,  when  he  held  his  in- 
terview with  Nathanael ;  and  he  may 
have  referred  to  the  demonstrations  of 
almightiness,  which  he  was  about  to  put 
forth,  and  which  would  as  much  prove 
his  divine  majesty,  as  though  he  were 
surrounded  with  troops  of  angels.  But 
it  can  hardly  be  said  that  such  an  explan- 
ation as  this  is  commensurate  with  the 
passage.  We  know  not  what  to  call 
far-fetched,  if  we  may  not  so  designate 
the  statement,  that  those  who  saw  Christ 
work  miracles,  saw  heaven  opened,  and 
the  angels  of  God  ascending;  and  descend- 
ing on  the  Savior.  We  may  add  that 
there  were  circumstances  attending  the 
crucifixion,  resurrection,  and  ascension 
of  Jesus,  which  may  be  considered  as 
having  partially  accomplished  the  words 
under  review.  Angels  appeared  in  con- 
nection with  these  several  events,  and 
the  firmament  was  at  length  opened  to 
receive  the  ascending  conqueror.  But 
here  we  must  again  say,  that  the  inter- 
pretation comes  manifestly  so  far  short 
of  the  scope  of  the  passage,  that  nothing 
but  inability  to  find  another  meaning  can 
make  us  content  with  one  so  contracted. 
For  our  own  part,  then,  we  cannot 
but  believe  that  the  prophecy  has  not 
yet  received  its  full  accomplishment.  We 
refer  it  onward  to  times,  of  which  indeed 
our  apprehensions  are  indistinct,  but  not 
on  that  account  less  animating.  We 
have  abundant  reason  for  believing  that 
days  are  to  break  on  this  creation,  such 
as  have  never  yet  visited  it  since  man 
rebelled  against  his  Maker.     We  read 


*  Seo  King's  Morsels  of  Criticism. 


284 


Jacob's  vision  and  vow. 


of  "new  heavens  and  a  new  earth,"  as 
though  the  whole  material  system  were 
to  be  splendidly  renovated,  and  of  the 
creature  itself  also  being  "  delivered 
from  the  bondage  of  corruption,"  as 
though  animate  and  inanimate  were  to 
reach  one  general  jubilee.  And  when 
there  shall  have  been  effected  this  mag- 
nificent rebuilding  of  all  that  has  been 
shattered,  this  hanging  with  new  majes- 
ty, and  enamelling  with  fresh  beauty, 
the  creation  wherein  we  dwell ;  and 
when,  in  its  every  department,  our  globe 
shall  be  tenanted  by  "a  holy  priesthf)od, 
a  peculiar  people;  "  then,  for  any  thing 
we  can  tell,  may  such  intercourse  be 
opened  between  the  earth  and  other  sec- 
tions of  the  universe,  as  shall  give  an 
ampler  meaning  than  has  yet  been  im- 
agined to  the  vision  of  Jacob,  and  the 
words  of  Christ.  It  is  a  fine  saying  of 
the  Psalmist,  "God  setteth  the  solitary 
in  families."  And  it  may  be  one  of  the 
verifications  of  this  saying,  that  woi-lds 
which  have  hitherto  moved,  each  in  its 
own  orbit,  each  left  in  its  solitariness, 
shall  have  channels  of  communication 
the  one  with  the  other,  so  that  one 
mighty  family  shall  be  formed  of  orders 
of  being  which  have  never  yet  been 
brought  into  visible  association.  We 
cannot  pretend  to  speak  with  any  cer- 
tainty of  events  and  times,  of  which  we 
have  only  obscure  intimations.  But  at 
least,  unable  as  we  are  to  apply  the 
woi-ds  under  review  to  any  thing  that 
has  already  occurred,  we  may  lawfully 
connect  them  with  what  is  yet  future, 
and,  by  associating  them  with  other 
predictions,  gain  and  give  additional  il- 
lustration. And  by  following  this  plan 
in  the  present  instance,  we  seem  war- 
ranted in  stating  the  high  probability, 
that,  in  glorious  days  when  Christ's  king- 
dom will  be  visibly  reared  on  the  wreck 
of  human  sovereignty,  there  will  be 
open  and  brilliant  intercourse  between 
dwellers  on  this  earth  and  higher  ranks 
of  intelligence.  Then  may  it  come  to 
pass  that  Jacob's  ladder  will  be  shown 
to  have  represented  the  bringing  into 
blessed  communion  all  the  ends  of  crea- 
tion ;  and  then  may  the  Mediator,  in 
some  manner  unimaginable  now,  appear 
as  the  channel  through  which  commun- 
ion is  maintained.  Ay,  and  then,  in 
some  stupendous  unveiling  of  the  secrets 
of  the  universe,  and  in  some  sublime 
manifestation  of  himself  as  the  connect- 


ing link  between  all  departments  of  tha 
unlimited  household,  may  Christ  explain, 
and  make  good,  the  yet  mysterious  say- 
ing, "Hereafter  ye  shall  see  heaven 
open,  and  the  angels  of  God  ascending 
and  descending  upon  the  Son  of  IMan." 

But  we  turn  now  from  the  vision  to 
the  vow  of  Jacob  ;  from  the  considering 
what  the  patriarch  saw  and  heard,  to  the 
examining  the  efl'ect  thereby  wrought 
upon  his  mind.  We  have  no  intention 
of  entering  at  length  into  all  that  is  re- 
lated of  the  conduct  of  Jacob,  when  he 
awaked  out  of  sleep.  We  wish  to  con- 
fine ourselves  strictly  to  his  vow  ;  for  it 
is  against  this  that  objections  have  been 
urged  by  infidel  writers.  Jacob  sets  up 
for  a  pillar  the  stone  which  had  served 
him  as  a  pillow ;  and,  having  poured  oil 
upon  it,  so  as  to  dedicate  it  to  God, 
vows  a  vow — "if  God  will  be  with  me, 
and  will  keep  me  in  the  way  that  I  go, 
and  will  give  me  bread  to  eat,  and  rai- 
ment to  put  on,  so  that  I  come  again  to 
my  father's  house  in  peace,  then  shall 
the  Lord  be  my  God."  lie  adds — but 
it  is  not  necessary  that  we  touch  on  this 
— that  the  erected  stone  should  be  the 
house  of  the  Lord,  and  that,  of  all  which 
God  gave  him,  he  would  consecrate  the 
tenth. 

Now  it  is  urged  that  there  is  some- 
thing very  mercenary  and  selfish  in  this  ; 
Jacob  is  represented  as  making  a  kind 
of  bargain  with  God,  so  that  he  will 
serve  him  only  on  condition  of  a  recom- 
pense. If  my  bodily  wants  be  all  sup- 
plied, the  Lord  shall  be  my  God ;  as 
much  as  to  say,  if  I  am  left  in  destitution, 
I  will  abandon  all  religion.  We  hold  it 
exceedingly  unfair  and  disingenuous  thus 
to  wi-est  Jacob's  vow.  We  are  sure  that 
no  candid  mind  can  put  on  it  the  inter- 
pretation that  Jacob  was  a  time-server, 
careful  of  religion  only  so  far  as  it  seem- 
ed likely  to  promote  his  temporal  inter- 
ests. On  the  contrary,  we  are  peisuad- 
ed,  that,  if  you  consider  the  vow  without 
prejudice,  you  will  find  it  expressive  of 
great  humility  and  gratitude.  God  had 
just  entered  into  covenant  with  Jacob, 
engaging  to  bestow  privileges  which 
would  make  him  conspicuous  amongst 
men.  God  had  just  told  him,  that  the 
land  on  which  he  lay  should  become  the 
inheritance  of  himself  and  his  children; 
and,  as  though  this  were  little,  that  in  him, 
and  in  his  seed,  should  all  families  of  the 
earth  be  blessed.   Jacob  was  thus  assured 


Jacob's  vision  and  vow. 


28S 


that  he  should  he  the  father  of  a  threat 
nation,  yea,  and  that  from  him  should 
descend  the  Benefactor  and  Redeemer  of 
mankind.  Tliese  were  splendid  prom- 
ises;  we  could  scarcely  have  marvelled, 
had  the  patriarch,  on  awaking  from  his 
sleep,  manifested  great  elation  of  mind 
at  tlie  dignities  to  which  he  was  appoint- 
ed. Knowing  how  difficult  it  is  to  bear 
greatness  meekly,  we  could  not  have 
wondered  had  he  vowed  as  his  vow,  If 
indeed  God  will  accomplish  his  word, 
and  bestow  on  me  the  things  of  which 
he  has  spoken,  I  will  take  him  as  my 
God,  and  serve  him  faithfully  all  the  days 
of  my  life.  And  had  this  been  Jacob's 
vow,  there  might  have  been  color  for  the 
opinion,  that  the  patriarch  was  merce- 
nary in  his  religion.  Had  he  made  his 
serving  God  contingent  on  his  obtaining 
what  would  render  him  mighty  and  il- 
lustrious, it  would  have  been  with  some 
show  of  fairness  that  men  accused  his 
piety  of  being  sordid  and  selfish.  But 
when,  in  place  of  speaking  of  lordship 
over  the  land  of  Canaan,  and  of  being 
the  ancestor  of  Messiah,  he  simply  asks 
for  bread  to  eat,  and  raiment  to  put  on, 
the  bare  necessaries  of  life,  with  none  of 
its  superfluities  ;  those  we  think,  must 
be  resolved  to  find  fault,  who  can  see  in 
Jacob's  conduct  the  indications  of  a  re- 
ligion which  looked  at  nothing  but  re- 
compense. The  only  just  interpretation 
which  can  be  put  upon  his  vow,  appears 
to  us  the  following  :  Jacob  is  quite  over- 
powered by  the  manifestations  of  God's 
favor,  which  had  just  been  vouchsafed, 
and  sinks  under  the  sense  of  his  own  ut- 
ter unworthiness.  Who  is  he,  a  wan- 
derer on  account  of  his  sin,  that  the  Al- 
mighty .  should  enter  into  covenant 
with  him,  and  promise  him  whatever 
was  most  noble  in  human  allotment  1  Oh, 
he  seems  to  say,  it  was  not  needful  that 
promises  such  as  these  should  have  been 
made,  in  order  to  my  feeling  bound  to  the 
service  of  God.  I  am  not  woi  thy  of  the 
least  of  all  his  mercies  ;  and  I  required 
not,  as  I  deserved  not,  the  being  signal- 
led out  from  other  men,  to  make  me 
strong  in  my  resolve  of  obedience.  If 
he  will  but  grant  me  the  commonest 
food,  and  the  sim])lest  clotliing,  I  shall 
be  satisfied  ;  it  will  be  more  than  I  have 
a  right  to  ask,  and  will  bind  me  to  him 
as  my  maker  and  benefactor.  He  has 
indeed  promised  to  restore  me  safely  to 
my  father's  house,  so  that  I  shall  not 


perish  in  the  exile  which  my  offence  has 
piocured  ;  and  if  he  do  this,  and  thus 
make  good  his  word,  I  shall  account  as 
nothing  the  having  to  struggle  with 
hardship  and  want ;  there  will  be  given 
me  a  clear  token  that  I  am  under  the 
protection  of  an  ever-vigilant  guardian, 
and  whom  but  this  guardian  shall  I  take 
for  my  God  ? 

We  have  no  hesitation  in  stating  that 
such  seems  fairly  the  import  of  Jacob's 
vow.  Jacob  is  not,  so  to  speak,  bargain- 
ing with  God  :  he  is  only  overcome 
by  the  display  of  Divine  goodness,  and 
abashed  by  the  consciousness  how  little 
it  was  deserved.  Can  the  vow  be  called 
mercenary,  when  he  only  asked  a  bare 
subsistence,  though  the  promise  had  in- 
cluded territory  and  dominion  1  Jacob, 
after  all,  merely  asked  life  ;  and  he  ask- 
ed it  merely  that  he  might  devote  it  to 
God.  Does  this  savor  of  the  spirit  of  a 
hii-eling  ]  Can  this  be  declared  indica- 
tive of  a  resolution  to  treat  religion  as  a 
mere  matter  of  profit  and  loss,  and  to 
cultivate  piety  no  further  than  God 
would  give  him  riches  in  exchange] 
We  are  persuaded  that  you  cannot  thus 
characterize  the  vow  of  the  patriarch 
We  stated,  indeed,  at  the  commencement 
of  our  discourse,  that  we  had  right  to 
expect  that  the  faults  of  saints  would  be 
recorded  ;  if,  therefore,  the  vow  of  Jacob 
were  what  it  has  been  maliciously  repre- 
sented, we  should  have  only  to  lament 
another  proof  of  the  frailty  of  the  best, 
and  to  point  out  another  evidence  of  the 
honesty  of  the  historian.  But  we  are 
not  to  allow  the  faults  to  be  exaggerated. 
When  holy  men  transgressed,  and  yield- 
ed to  temptation,  it  is  not  for  the  interest 
of  truth  that  we  should  defend  or  exteu 
uate  their  conduct.  But  where  the 
charge  against  them  is  disingenuous  and 
unfounded,  it  is  our  duty  to  expose  the 
unfairness  of  the  attack,  and  vindicate 
the  accused.  And  men  may  perversely 
find,  if  they  will,  the  marks  of  a  sordid  and 
mercenary  temper  in  the  declaration, 
that  Jacob  would  take  the  Lord  for  his 
God,  if  he  had  bread  to  eat,  and  raiment 
to  put  on  :  but  when  the  circumstances 
of  the  patriarch  are  taken  into  account, 
when  what  he  asks  of  God  is  set  in  con- 
trast with  what  God  had  engaged  to  be- 
stow, candid  reasoners  must  admit  that 
his  language  is  that  of  humility,  rather 
than  of  a  hireling,  and  find  in  it  the  ex- 
pression of  gratitude  and  thankfulness, 


58e 


Jacob's  tision  and  vow. 


rather  than  of  a  covetous  and  time-serv- 
ing disposition. 

Tliero  is  but  another  remark  which 
we  would  make  before  winding  up  our 
Bubject  of  discourse.  We  learn  from 
such  narratives  as  this  of  Jacob's  vision, 
how  possible  it  is  that  the  soul  may  en- 
joy great  happiness,  and  gain  vast  ac- 
cession of  knowledge,  in  what  is  called 
the  separate  state.  It  is,  you  observe, 
whilst  Jacob  is  asleep,  and  therefore  not 
to  be  communicated  with  through  his 
bodily  senses,  that  God  shows  him  the 
heavens  opened,  and  speaks  to  him  of 
great  things  to  come.  And  this  is  a  fine 
testimony  to  the  capacity  of  the  soul, 
when  detached  from  the  body,  for  receiv- 
ing notices  of  the  invisible  world,  and 
holding  converse  with  spiritual  beings. 
When  I  have  laid  aside  this  corruptible 
flesh,  my  soul — if  indeed  I  "  sleep  in 
Jesus" — will  pass  into  a  condition  of 
peace  and  tranquillity,  and  there  await 
the  trumpet-peal  which  is  to  call  forth 
as  her  residence  a  glorified  body.  But 
there  is  no  necessity  that  the  soul  should 
be  inactive,  or  contracted  in  her  enjoy- 
ments, because  stripped  for  a  while  of 
material  organs.  The  intermediate  state 
must  indeed  be  vastly  inferior,  in  all 
the  elements  of  dignity  and  happiness, 
to  that  which  will  succeed  the  general 
resurrection.  Yet  it  may  not  be  a  state 
of  listlessness,  nor  one  whose  privilege 
consists  in  mere  repose.  The  soul,  by 
her  own  organs,  may  gaze  on  what  is 
glorious,  and  gather  in  what  is  inspirit- 
ing. For  if,  whilst  the  body  was  wrap- 
ped in  slumber,  and  the  soul  left  alone 
in  her  wakefulhess,  Jacob  could  behold 
earth  linked  with  heaven,  and  the  bright 
array  of  angels,  and  the  majesty  of  Dei- 
ty ;  and  hearken  to  a  Divine  voice  which 
brought  him  animating  tidings  ;  we  may 
well  be  persuaded  that,  when  separated 
from  matter  by  death,  our  spirit  shall  be 
capable  of  intercourse  with  God,  and 
of  grasping  much  of  the  magnificence 
of  the  future.  If  they  cannot  mount 
the  whole  height  of  the  ladder,  they  may 
yet  look  on  in  its  stateliness,  and  admire 
the  celestial  troop  by  which  it  is  travers- 
ed, and  receive  from  the  Lord  God,  the 
mysterious  emblems  of  whose  presence 
crown  its  summit,  intelligence  of  the 
things  which  the  eye  hath  not  seen,  and 
the  ear  hath  not  heard. 

But  now  we  address  you,  in  conclu- 
sion, as  beings  confined  for  a  while  to 


a  narrow  and  inconsiderable  scene,  but 
whose  home  is  far  away,  in  those  re- 
gions of  light  where  Deity  is  specially 
manifested,  and  where  the  angel  and  the 
archangel  have  their  abode.  We  point 
you  to  the  everlasting  hills,  whose  glori- 
ous and  gold-lit  summits  come  out  to 
the  eve  of  faith  from  the  mighty  ex- 
panse ;  and  we  tell  you  that  those  hills 
must  be  climbed.  We  point  you  to  "  a 
city  which  hath  foundations,"  the  "Je- 
rusalem which  is  above  :"  we  show  you 
its  stupendous  walls  stretching  inter- 
minably iipward ;  and  we  tell  you  that 
these  walls  must  be  scaled.  And  you 
ai'e  staggered  at  the  greatness  of  the 
demand.  How  can  we  ascend  hills 
which  are  not  based  on  this  eaith  ;  how 
surmount  walls,  of  which  no  eye  can 
take  the  altitude  1  We  lead  you  with 
us  to  Bethel,  and  bid  you  behold  that 
on  which  the  patriarch  gazed.  There 
is  a  ladder,  set  up  on  the  ground,  but 
its  top  reaches  to  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  and  to  the  gate  of  the  city. 
Are  you  willing  to  go  up,  to  leave  the 
prison,  and  to  seek  tne  palace  ]  Then, 
in  the  name  of  the  living  God,  we  bid 
you  plant  the  foot  on  the  first  step  of 
this  ladder :  forsake  evil  courses,  break 
away  from  evil  habits,  and  take  part 
with  the  disciples  of  Christ.  Christ 
castelh  out  none  who  come  unto  him  : 
and  he  who  strives  to  turn  from  his  ini- 
quities at  the  call  of  his  Savior,  is  be- 
ginning to  lay  hold  on  that  propitiation, 
through  the  grasping  of  which  in  its 
several  parts  he  will  be  gradually  raised 
to  the  blessedness  of  immortality.  Are 
you  afraid  of  trusting  yourselves  to  this 
ladder?  Thousands,  in  every  age,  have 
gone  up  by  it  to  glory ;  and  not  a  soli- 
tary individual  has  found  it  give  way 
beneath  him,  however  immense  the  bur- 
den of  his  sins.  And  why  afraid  ]  The 
ladder  is  He  who  is  "  able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost "  all  who  would  go  unto  God 
through  him  ;  and  the  angels  are  ascend- 
ing and  descending  upon  it,  for  they 
have  charge  over  tlie  righteous  to  keep 
them  in  all  their  ways  ;  and  the  Almighty 
himself  looks  down  on  those  who  are 
climbing  painfully  upwards,  that  ho  may 
send  them  succor  when  the  hand  is  re- 
laxing and  the  foot  falling.  I  can  an- 
swer for  it,  that  every  one  of  you  may, 
if  he  will,  mount  by  this  ladder,  seeing 
that  Christ  took  human  nature,  and  thus 
united  earth  and  heaven,  as  the  substitute 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  ANU  THE  SON. 


287 


of  all.  I  can  answer  for  it,  that  none 
who  strive  to  mount  by  this  ladder  shall 
fail  of  everlasting  life  ;  for  those  who 
believe  on  Christ  can  never  perish, 
neither  shall  any  pluck  them  out  of  his 
hand.  The  canopy  of  the  sky  seems 
lined  with  the  "  cloud  of  witnesses.  " 
Those  who  have  gone  before  are  bid- 
ding us  climb,  through  the  one  Mediator, 


to  their  lofty  abode.  We  come,  we 
come.  Your  call  shall  be  obeyed. 
Your  voices  animate  us,  as  they  e?teal 
down  in  solemn  and  beautiful  cadence. 
And  God  helping,  there  shall  not  be  one 
of  us  who  does  not  seek  salvation  through 
the  blood  and  righteousness  of  Jesus ; 
not  one  who  shall  not  share  with  you  tV^ 
throne  and  the  diadem. 


SERMON    II. 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


"  But  Jesus  answered  thera,  My  Father  worketh  hitherto,  and  I  work." — St.  John,  v.  17. 


It  is  a  very  peculiar  argument  which 
Christ  here  employs,  to  disprove  the 
charg^e  of  having  broken  the  Sabbath. 
We  will  refer,  for  a  few  moments,  to 
the  context,  that  you  may  understand 
the  drift  and  force  of  the  reasoning. 
Christ  had  healed  the  impotent  man, 
who  had  lain  for  a  long  time  by  the  pool 
of  Bethesda.  He  had  bidden  him  take 
up  his  bed,  and  walk  ;  and  the  cripple 
was  immediately  enabled  to  obey  the 
command.  It  was  on  the  Sabbath-day 
that  this  great  miracle  was  wrought ;  and 
the  circumstance  of  the  man's  carrying 
his  bed  through  the  streets,  attracted 
the  notice  of  those  who  were  jealous  for 
the  ceremonial  law.  They  taxed  the 
man  with  doing  what  it  was  not  lawful 
to  do  on  the  Sabbath  :  he  justified  him- 
self by  pleading  the  direction  of  the  Be- 
ing by  whom  he  had  been  healed.  This 
led  to  an  inquiry  as  to  the  author  of  tlie 
miracle  ;  and  so  soon  as  the  Jews  had 
ascertained  that  it  was  Jesus,  they  per- 
eecuted  him,  and  "  sought  to  slay  him, 


because  he  had  done  these  things  on  the 
Sabbath-day."  In  order  to  show  thera 
the  unreasonableness  of  their  conduct, 
and  to  prove  that  he  had  authority  for 
what  he  had  done,  Christ  made  use  of 
the  words  of  our  text,  words  by  which 
he  seemed  to  the  Jews  to  claim  essential 
Divinity,  however  modern  objectors  may 
fail  to  find  in  them  such  assumption. 
You  read  that,  so  soon  as  Christ  had  said, 
"  My  Father  worketh  hitherto,  and  I 
work,"  his  enemies  took  a  new  ground 
for  seeking  his  death.  "  Therefore  the 
Jews  sought  the  more  to  kill  him,  be- 
cause he  not  only  had  broken  the  Sab- 
bath, but  said  also  that  God  was  his  Fa- 
ther, making  himself  equal  with  God." 

It  is  very  observable,  that  the  Jews 
considered  Christ  as  claiming  actual 
equality  with  God — a  plain  indication, 
we  think,  that  such  was  the  meaning 
which  his  words  bore.  The  contempo- 
raries of  the  Savior,  addressed  by  hira 
in  their  native  tongue,  were  more  like- 
ly to  perceive  the  true  sense  of  what  he 


2S8 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


said  than  ourselves,  wlio  receive  his  dis- 
courses in  a  dead  language.  At  all 
events,  supposing  that  the  Jews  mistook 
his  meaning,  what  can  be  said  of  his 
not  correcting  the  mistake  ]  So  soon 
as  he  knew  that  they  were  enraged  at 
him  for  a  supposed  violation  of  the  Sab- 
bath, he  entered  on  his  vindication,  and 
sought  to  prove  the  charge  groundless. 
But  did  he  do  any  thing  similar  when 
he  knew  himself  accused  of  "  making 
himself  equal  with  God  ]  "  The  chai-gc 
was  far  heavier.  If  Christ  had  been  on- 
ly a  creature,  a  mere  man  like  one  of 
ourselves,  it  would  have  been  nothing 
short  of  blasphemy  had  he  proclaimed 
himself  "  equal  with  God."  We  may 
be  sure,  therefore,  that  if  the  Jews  had 
been  wrong  in  infcri-ing  from  Christ's 
words  a  claim  to  divinity,  they  would 
not  have  been  suffered  to  continue  in 
error.  We  may  be  sure,  we  say,  of 
this;  for  even  those  who  are  most 
earnest  in  contending  that  Christ  was 
only  man,  allow  that  he  was  a  good  man, 
and  no  deceiver :  they  are  not  ready  to 
accuse  him  of  uttering  blasphemy,  or  of 
being  wholly  indifferent  as  to  what  con- 
struction might  be  put  upon  his  words. 
Yet  it  is  very  certain,  that,  when  Christ 
knew  himself  charfred  with  makinsf  him- 
self  "  equal  with  God,"  he  attempted 
no  denial,  but  spake  in  terms  which  must 
have  confirmed  the  Jews  in  the  inference 
which  they  had  drawn  from  our  text. 
We  find  him  immediately  afterwards 
saying,  "  Wliat  things  soever  the  Father 
doeth,  these  also  docth  the  Son  likewise," 
— words  which,  in  place  of  contradicting  ,' 
the  supposition  that  he  meant  to  declare 
himself  every  way  divine,  admit  no  con- 
sistent interpretation,  unless  the  power 
of  the  Son  be  precisely  the  same  with 
that  of  the  Father.  And  thus  it  would 
appear,  either  that  it  was  a  true  infer- 
ence which  the  Jews  drew  from  our 
text,  when  they  concluded  that  Christ 
affirmed  himself  equal  with  God  ;  or  that 
Christ,  when  he  knew  the  interpretation 
put  upon  his  words,  took  no  pains  to 
defend  himself  against  the  charge  of 
blas|)liemy,  but  made  statements  which 
ratlier  went  to  prove  the  charge  just. 

We  do  not  well  see  how  the  deniers 
of  Christ's  divinity  are  to  extricate 
themselves  from  lliis  dilemma.  The 
Redeemer  had  used  words,  which  the 
Jews  interpreted  into  a  claim  of  equality 
with  God.    The  interpretation  was  either 


correct  or  incorrect.  If  correct,  Christ 
meant  to  declare  himself  divine,  and 
there  can  be  no  debate  that  he  actually 
was.  If  incorrect,  then  Christ,  who  was 
not  silent  under  a  charge  of  sabbath- 
breaking,  would  not  have  been  silent  un- 
der a  charge  of  the  worst  posssible  blas- 
phemy; at  least,  he  would  not  have 
countenanced  the  charge,  by  using  more 
of  the  same  suspicious  language.  Hence 
the  only  fair  conclusion  seems  to  be,  that 
the  Jews  had  put  the  right  construction 
on  our  text;  and  that  Christ  actually 
designed  to  assert  his  proper  deity, 
when,  in  order  to  prove  that  he  had  not 
broken  the  Sabbath  by  healing  on  that 
day,  he  said,  "  My  Father  worketh  hith- 
erto, and  I  work." 

Indeed  we  know  not  what  force  there 
would  be  in  the  argument,  on  any  sup- 
position but  that  of  Christ's  being  equal 
with  God.  The  accusation  against  Christ 
was,  that  he  had  broken  the  Sabbath 
by  working  a  miracle.  How  does  he 
meet  the  charge  1  Simply  by  saying, 
"  My  Father  worketh  hitherto,  and  I 
work,"  13ut  what  answer,  what  apology, 
is  this  ?  There  is  an  answer,  and  there 
is  an  apology,  on  the  supposition  that 
Christ  was  God,  but  not  on  any  other. 
God,  though  he  had  ceased  from  creat- 
ing, was  continually  occupied  in  sus- 
taining and  picserving,  so  that  he  per- 
formed works  of  mercy  on  the  Sabbath- 
day,  as  well  as  on  every  other,  making 
his  sun  to  shine  on  the  evil  and  the  good, 
and  his  rain  to  descend  on  the  just  and  the 
unjust.  And  if  Christ  were  God,  then, 
in  curing  the  impotent  on  the  Sabbath, 
he  had  only  exercised  the  prerogative 
of  Deity,  and  continued  what  had  been 
his  practice  from  the  very  beginning  of 
the  world.  The  .Jews,  therefore,  might 
as  well  have  objected,  that  God  brake 
his  own  ordinance  by  those  actings  of 
his  providence  which  took  place  without 
resj)ect  of  days,  as  that  Christ  had  vio- 
lated the  Sabbath  by  healing  the  sick. 
Jjut  if  Christ  were  not  God,  we  know 
not  what  riglit  he  had  to  refer  to  what 
God  did,  and  thereby  to  atfemjit  his  own 
vindication.  Untpiestionably,  the  prac- 
tice of  the  Creator  could  not  rightly  be 
quoted  in  proof,  that  a  mere  creature 
might  do  what  he  thought  fit  on  the  Sab- 
bath  :  it  did  not  follow  that  because  the 
Creator  worked  on  tlie  Sabbath,  the 
cieature  might  lawfully  work;  this 
would  be  placing  the  creature  on  a  level 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


289 


witli  the  Creator  ;  for  it  woiikl  be  claim- 
ing- the  same  privileges  for  the  two,  the 
same  superiority  to  all  authority  and 
command.  But  if  Christ  were  more 
than  a  creature,  if  he  were  himself  the 
Creator  :  the  argument  was  strong  and 
conclusive  :  in  healing  the  sick,  he  did 
but  assert  the  independence  which  be- 
longed to  him  as  God,  and  act  as  he  had 
all  along  acted,  whilst  busied  with  up- 
holding the  universe.  Thus  the  Jews 
attached  to  Christ's  words  the  only 
meaning  which,  we  think,  they  will  bear, 
when  considered  as  furnishing  the  reason 
why  he  might  lawfully  cure  on  the  Sab- 
bath. The  reason  was  that,  being  him- 
self God,  he  might  act  as  God,  and  there- 
fore work  on  all  days  alike.  But  the 
moment  you  throw  doubt  on  the  fact 
.  of  his  being  God,  the  reason  disappears, 
and  our  text  contains  only  the  presump- 
tuous, and  even  blasphemous  insinua- 
tions, that  a  creature  might  lawfully 
guide  himself  by  the  actions  of  the  Crea- 
tor, without  regard  to  his  positive  com- 
mands. 

But  we  will  not  insist  at  greater  length 
on  the  argument  furnished  by  our  text 
and  its  context  in  support  of  the  divinity 
of  Christ.  Wc  have  probably  said 
enough  to  convince  you,  that  this  argu- 
ment is  of  more  than  common  strength; 
inasmuch  as,  in  interpreting  the  passage 
as  containing  a  claim  to  divinity,  we  ad- 
vance only  the  interpretation  which  was 
put  upon  it  by  the  Jews,  and  which 
Christ  allowed  to  pass  without  censure, 
nay,  which  he  even  confirmed  by  his 
subsequent  discourse.  We  will  now, 
however,  wave  further  reference  to  the 
circumstances  which  occasioned  the  de- 
livery of  the  text ;  and,  assuming  your 
belief  in  that  fundamental  article  of 
Christianity,  the  divinity  of  Christ,  pro- 
ceed to  examine  the  assertions  which 
are  made  in  regard  both  of  the  Father 
and  the  Son.  We  have  only  to  premise, 
that  our  Savior  must  be  understood  as 
speaking  in  his  character  of  Mediator, 
the  being  who  had  united  in  his  person 
the  divine  nature  and  the  human.  It 
was  not  altogether  as  God,  but  rather 
as  Godman,  that  he  had  healed  the  crip- 
ple, who  had  vainly  waited,  year  after 
year,  by  the  pool  of  Bethesda.  The 
miracles  which  Jesus  wrought  were  de- 
signed as  credentials,  by  which  his  au- 
thority, as  a  teacher  sent  from  God, 
might  be  clearly  established.     Hence,  in 


working  a  miracle,  he  is  to  be  consider- 
ed as  acting  in  his  mediatorial  capacity, 
carrying  forward  that  great  undertaking 
on  wiiich  he  had  entered  so  soon  as  man 
transgressed.  Hence,  when  he  justifies 
his  performing  a  miracle  on  the  Sabbath, 
by  saying,  "  My  Father  worketh  hither- 
to, and  I  work,"  he  is  to  be  regarded  as 
affirming  that  the  mediatorial  office  had 
been,  and  was  to  be,  discharged  with 
that  uninterrupted  activity  which  mark- 
ed the  Creator's  providential  dealings. 
It  might  not  perhaps  have  been  a  suffi- 
cient vindication  of  the  act  which  had  ex- 
cited the  anger  of  the  Jews,  that  he  who 
wrought  it  was  God,  and  therefore  not 
bound  by  such  an  ordinance  as  that  of 
the  Sabbath.  Christ  had  assumed  the 
nature  of  man,  and  voluntarily  brought 
himself  under  the  law.  It  did  not,  there- 
fore, necessarily  follow,  that  he  had  a 
right  to  do,  as  man,  whatever  it  was  his 
prerogative  to  do  as  God.  But  as  God- 
man,  or  Mediator,  he  might  be  called  on 
for  the  same  continued  exercise  of  en- 
ergy as  that  by  which  the  Creator  sus- 
tained the  work  of  his  hands.  And  this 
it  is  which  he  must  be  supposed  to  af- 
firm— even  that,  as  the  Father,  as  the 
universal  upholder,  had  been  occupied 
from  the  first  with  providential  opera- 
tions, so  had  the  Son  been  actively  em- 
ployed from  the  first  in  his  Mediatorial 
capacity ;  and  that,  in  the  one  instance, 
as  well  as  in  the  other,  the  work  pro- 
ceeded without  respect  of  days. 

But  this  will  be  better  understood  as 
we  advance  with  our  discourse.  We 
shall  consider  the  text  as  affirming,  in 
the  first  place,  the  continual  working  of 
the  Father ;  in  the  second  place,  the 
continual  working  of  the  Son;  and  we 
shall  strive  so  to  speak  of  each,  as  to 
prove  the  words  "  profitable  for  doc- 
triMe,  and  instruction  in  righteousness." 

Now  there  is,  perhaps,  in  all  of  us  a 
tendency  to  the  substituting  second 
causes  for  the  first,  to  the  so  dwelling 
on  the  laws  of  matter,  and  the  opera- 
tions of  nature,  as  to  forget,  if  not  deny, 
the  continued  agency  of  God.  If  our 
creed  were  to  be  gathered  from  our 
common  forms  of  speech,  it  might  be 
concluded  that  we  regarded  nature  as 
some  agent  quite  distinct  from  deity, 
having  its  own  sphere,  and  its  own  pow- 
ers, in  and  with  which  to  work.  We 
are  wont  to  draw  a  line  between  what 
we  call  natural,  and  what  supernatural ; 
37 


290 


THE  CONT/NUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  AXD  THE  SON, 


assigning  the  latter  to  an  infinite  pow- 
er, but  ascribing  the  former  to  ordinary 
causes,  unconnected  with  tlie  immediate 
interference  of  God.  But  is  not  our 
pliilosoj)liy  as  defective  as  our  theology, 
8o  long  as  we  thus  give  energy  to  mat- 
ter, and  make  a  deity  of  nature  ]  We 
do  not  believe  that  it  would  furnish  any 
satisfactory  account  of  the  thousand 
beautiful  arrangements,  discoverable  in 
the  visible  creation,  to  say  that  matter 
was  endued  with  certain  properties,  and 
placed  in  certain  relations,  and  then  left 
to  obey  the  laws  and  perform  the  revolu- 
tions originally  impressed  and  command- 
ed. This  is  ascribing  a  permanence, 
as  well  as  a  power,  to  second  causes,  for 
which  it  seems  to  us  as  unscientific  as 
it  certainly  is  unscriptural  to  contend. 
We  do  not  indeed  suppose  that  God 
exerts  any  such  agency  as  to  supersede 
the  laws,  or  nullify  the  properties  of 
matter;  but  we  believe  that  he  is  con- 
tinually acting  by  and  through  these 
laws  and  properties  as  his  instruments, 
and  not  that  these  laws  and  properties 
are  of  themselves  effecting  the  various  oc- 
currences in  the  material  world.  What 
is  that  nature,  of  which  we  rashly  speak, 
but  the  Almighty  perpetually  at  work  1 
What  are  those  laws  of  matter,  to 
which  we  confidently  appeal,  and  by 
which  we  explain  certain  phenomena, 
but  so  many  manifestations  of  infinite 
power  and  intelligence,  proofs  of  the 
presence  and  activity  of  a  being  who 
produces,  according  to  his  own  will, 
"  All  action  and  passion,  all  permanence 
and  change  1  "*  I  count  it  not  owing 
to  inherent  powers,  originally  impressed, 
that  year  by  year  this  globe  walks  its 
orbit,  repeating  its  mysterious  march 
round  the  sun  in  the  firmament:  I  rather 
reckon  that  the  hand  of  the  Almighty 
perpetually  guides  the  planet,  and  that 
it  is  through  his  energies,  momentarily 
applied,  that  the  ponderous  mass  eflects 
its  rotations.  1  do  not  believe  it  the 
result  of  properties,  which,  once  impart- 
ed, operate  of  themselves,  that  vegeta- 
tion goes  forward,  and  verdure  mantles 
the  earth  :  I  rather  believe  that  Deity  is 
busy  with  every  seed  that  is  cast  into 
the  ground,  and  that  it  is  through  his 
immediate  agency  tliat  every  leaf  opens, 
and  every  flower  blooms.  I  count  it 
not  the  consequence  of  a  physical   or- 


•Whewell.  Bridgowater  Trealiae. 


ganization,  the  effect  of  a  curious  me- 
chanism, which,  once  set  in  motion,  con- 
tinues to  work,  that  pulse  succeeds  to 
pulse,  and  breath  follows  Ineath  :  I  ra- 
ther regard  it  as  literally  true,  that  in 
God  "we  live  and  move,  and  have  our 
being,"  that  each  pulse  is  but  the  throb, 
each  breath  the  inspiration  of  the  ever- 
present,  all-actuating,  Divinity. 

Away  with  the  idolatry  of  nature. 
Nature  is  but  a  verbal  fiction,  invented 
to  keep  out  of  sight  the  unwearied  act- 
ings of  the  great  First  Cause.  The 
Bible  ascribes  to  God  the  preservation, 
and  not  only  the  production,  of  all  things. 
The  Levites,  when  Nehemiah  had  pro- 
claimed a  solemn  fast,  thus  poured  forth 
their  confession  of  the  greatness  of  God, 
"  Thou,  even  thou,  art  Lord  alone  :  thou 
hast  made  heaven,  the  heaven  of  hea- 
vens, with  all  their  host ;  the  earth,  and 
all  things  that  are  therein ;  the  seas, 
and  all  that  is  therein ;  and  thou  pre- 
scrvest  them  all,  and  the  host  of  hea- 
ven worshippeth  thee."  The  Apostle, 
when  preaching  the  true  God  to  the 
idolatrous  Athenians,  declared,  "  He 
giveth  to  all  life  and  breath,  and  all 
things,"  There  is  scarcely  a  natural 
production,  or  occurrence,  which  we  do 
not  find  referred,  in  some  part  or  other 
of  the  Bible,  immediately  to  the  agency 
of  G  od.  Ho  it  is,  if  we  believe  the  state- 
ments of  Holy  writ,  who  maketh  the  sun 
to  arise,  and  the  rain  to  descend.  He  it 
is,  saith  the  Psalmist,  "  who  maketh 
grass  to  grow  upon  the  mountains." 
"  He  giveth  snow  like  wool ;  he  scat- 
tereth  the  hoar-frost  like  ashes."  "When 
he  uttereth  his  voice,  there  is  a  multi- 
tude of  waters  in  the  heavens ;  he  ma- 
keth lightnmgs  with  rain,  and  bringeth 
fiirth  the  wind  out  of  his  treasures." 
These  are  the  terms  in  which  inspired 
writers  speak  of  the  agency  of  God  ; 
terms  which  seem  decisive  on  the  fact, 
that  then;  is  no  such  thing  in  the  material 
universe  as  the  working  of  second  causes, 
without  the  inteifercnce  of  the  first ;  but 
that  the  Divine  Being,  though  he  have 
ceased  from  creating,  is  momentarily  en- 
gaged in  actuating  and  upholding  the 
vast  system  which  he  originally  con- 
structed. And  if,  though  he  have  insti- 
tuted laws,  and  conimunicated  proper- 
ties, these  laws  and  properties  are  but 
instruments  in  God's  hands,  by  and 
through  which  he  effects  the  results  and 
calls  forth  the  productions  which  we  are 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OP  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


m 


wont  to  refer  tc  natural  causes — yea,  if 
each  planet,  as  it  turns  on  its  axis  and 
traces  out  its  orbit  is  moved  by  his  hand  ; 
if  his  breath  be  in  eveiy  gale,  his  glance 
in  every  beam,  his  voice  in  every  sound  ; 
if  his  be  the  vegetable  power  which 
makes  the  valleys  thick  with  com,  his 
the  pencil  which  traces  beauty  on  the 
flowers,  his  the  sti'ength  which  marshals 
the  elements,  his  the  wisdom  which  pro- 
vides for  all  animated  being ;  who  will 
not  own  that  so  universal  and  uninter- 
rupted an  agency  is  exercised  by  God, 
as  bears  out,  in  its  largest  signification, 
the  declaration  of  Christ,  "  Hitherto  my 
Father  worketh  ?  " 

We  go  on  to  observe,  that  it  is  not 
only  in  the  material  universe,  that  there 
is  the  perpetual  and  immediate  agency 
of  God.  We  know  that  God  has  re- 
vealed himself  as  a  moral  governor, 
having  all  orders  of  intelligent  being  as 
his  subjects,  employing  them  in  his  ser- 
vice, and  taking  cognizance  of  their  ac- 
tions. And  it  is  a  mighty  field  of  em- 
ployment which  is  thrown  open  before 
us,  when  we  thus  view  in  God  the  Gov- 
ernor as  well  as  the  Creator.  If  we 
limit  our  thoughts  to  our  own  globe  and 
race,  how  immense  is  the  occupation 
with  which  we  suppose  Deity  charged. 
To  observe  every  motion  of  the  human 
will,  and  make  it  subserve  his  own  pur- 
poses ;  to  note  whatsoever  occurs,  and 
register  it  for  judgment ;  to  instigate  to 
every  good  action,  and  overrule  every 
bad, — this  is  the  business,  if  we  may  use 
the  word,  which  belongs  to  the  Moral 
Governor;  a  business  in  which  there 
Cannot  have  been  a  moment's  cessation 
since  the  first  man  was  made,  and  in 
which  there  will  not  be  a  pause  till  the 
last  man  hath  died.  You  are  to  add  to 
this,  that,  with  respect  to  every  one  of 
us,  the  occupation  is  just  as  individual 
as  though  there  were  none  other  upon 
earth  to  engage  the  watchfulness  of 
Deity.  "  Thou  understandest,"  saith 
David,  "  my  thought  afar  ofl'."  "  There  is 
not  a  word  hi  my  tongue,  but  lo,  O  Lord, 
thou  knowest  it  altogether."  "  Thou 
tellest  my  wanderings  :  put  thou  my 
tears  into  thy  bottle  ;  are  they  not  in  thy 
book  1 "  It  is  certainly  the  representa- 
tion of  Scripture  ;  a  representation,  of 
which  it  is  hard  to  say  whether  it  more 
surprises  us  by  the  view  which  it  gives 
of  the  unsearchable  greatness  of  God,  or 
delights  u3  by  the  exquisite  tenderness 


of  which  it  proves  us  the  objects  ;  that 
no  calamity  can  befall  the  meanest 
amongst  us,  no  anxiety  disquiet  him,  no 
joy  cheer  him,  no  prayer  escape  him,  of 
which  our  heavenly  Father  is  unobser- 
vant, or  in  which  he  takes  no  immediate 
concern.  We  are  directed  to  ask  him 
for  our  daily  bread ;  we  are  bidden  to 
cast  all  our  care  upon  him ;  we  are  as- 
sured that  he  will  wipe  away  our  tears; 
we  are  told  that  he  is  a  present  help  in 
every  time  of  trouble;  that  "this  poor 
man  cried,  and  the  Lord  heard  him;" 
that  "he  healeth  the  broken  in  heart, 
and  bindeth  up  their  wounds." 

We  will  not  now  insist  on  the  unmea- 
sured condescension  and  compassion 
which  such  directions  and  assurances  in- 
dicate. We  wish  to  fasten  your  atten- 
tion on  that  inconceivably  vast  employ- 
ment which  is  hereby  attributed  to  the 
Almighty.  We  are  showing  you  God, 
as  the  God  of  all  the  families  of  the  earth, 
exercising  over  the  whole  extent  of  the 
human  population  a  watchfulness  which 
nothing  can  escape,  and  a  carefulness 
which  nothing  can  weary.  He  has  to 
give  audience  every  moment  to  unnum- 
bered beings,  who  lay  before  him  the 
expressions  of  their  wants  and  desires ; 
and  every  moment  he  has  to  minister  to 
the  necessities  of  unnumbered  others, 
who  live  upon  his  bounty,  and  yet  yield 
him  no  worship.  It  is  not  by  day  alone, 
it  is  not  by  night  alone,  it  is  not  at  stat- 
ed seasons  alone,  but  perpetually  as  well 
as  universally,  at  every  instant,  in  every 
land,  in  every  household,  in  every  heart, 
that  the  Almighty  must  be  busy  :  busy, 
wherever  there  is  life,  in  ministering  an- 
imation ;  wherever  there  is  death,  in 
dismissing  the  spirit ;  wherever  there  is 
righteousness,  in  producing  it ;  wher- 
ever there  is  wickedness,  in  controlling 
it;  wherever  there  is  sorrow,  wherever 
there  is  peace,  wherever  there  is  sup- 
plication, in  sanctifying,  bestowing,  re- 
ceiving. We  knovv  not  where  to  firxl 
terms  in  which  to  set  forth  to  you  what 
we  may  dare  to  call  the  industry  of  Deity. 
But  if  you  can  number  the  actions  which 
are  daily  wrought  upon  the  earth,  the 
words  which  are  spoken,  the  thoughts 
which  are  thought,  the  tears  which  are 
i  shed,  the  joys  which  are  felt,  the  wishes 
which  are  breathed,  then  you  number 
'  the  occupations  with  which  this  single 
I  creation  furnishes  the  Creator  ;  for  with 
I  every  the  most  minute  and  insignificant 


292 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OP  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


of  these  he  has  a  close  and  immediate 
concern  ;  either  causinf^,  or  oveiTuling, 
or  moderating,  or  answering. 

And  is  it  not  then  true  that  there  must 
be  an  activity  in  God,  which  is  at  least 
as  wonderful  as  aught  else  which  reason 
and  revelation  concur  in  ascribing  to 
him]  We  have  spoken  only  of  a  soli-  i 
tary  globe,  inhabited  by  beings  who  have  i 
been  made  "a  little  lower  than  the  an- 
gels." But  there  are  worlds  upon  ] 
worlds,  scattered  throughout  immensity,  ! 
each,  it  may  be,  the  home  of  life  and  in- 
telligence. And  all  that  inconceivable 
employment,  which  is  furnished  to  God 
by  a  single  province  of  his  infinite  em- 
pire, is  probably  but  an  inconsiderable 
fraction  of  that  total  of  occupation  which 
is  devolved  upon  him  as  the  ruler  and 
upholder  of  "thrones  and  dominions, 
and  princij^alities  and  powers,"  the  end 
as  well  as  the  origin  of  all  that  is,  the 
guardian,  the  refuge,  the  life,  of  every 
creature  in  every  spot  of  unlimited  space. 
The  human  mind  shrinks  from  the  ef- 
fort to  compass  the  multitudinous  trans- 
action. And  it  is  not  the  business  of  a 
day,  or  a  year,  or  a  century.  If  we  follow 
the  leadings  of  science — leadings  which 
seem  not  the  less  trust-worthy,  because 
only  the  fragments  of  a  shell,  or  the  foot- 
prints of  an.  insect,  may  have  guided  her 
along  the  path  of  discovery, — we  find 
dates  graven  on  the  visible  universe, 
which  seem  to  prove  that,  thousands  of 
ages  back,  in  periods  too  remote  for  the 
flight  of  all  but  imaginalion,there  weresys 
tems  and  beings  to  engage  the  unremitted 
attention  of  the  Creator;  just  as,  through- 
out the  coming  eternity,  myriads  upon 
myriads  will  hang  momentarily  on  his  sup- 
port. Oh, it  were  to  be  as  God,  to  compre- 
hend what  God  has  to  do  !  But  this  we 
may  safely  say,  that  if,  as  the  protector  and 
moral  governor  of  whatsoever  he  hath 
formed,  the  Almighty  be  obsei'vant  of  all 
the  actions  of  all  his  intelligent  creatures ; 
if  he  inspect  every  heart,  record  every 
motive,  supply  every  want,  hear  every 
petition,  appoint  every  judgment,  em- 
ploy every  instrument, — and  this  too  in 
every  section  of  an  unmeasured  domin- 
ion,— then  all  must  acknowledge  the 
truth  of  the  simple  but  sublime  state- 
ment of  Christ,  "Hitherto  my  father 
worketh." 

We  have  now,  in  the  second  place, 
to  consider  what  our  Savior  here  af- 
firms of  himself :  he  associates  himself 


\vith  the  Father  in  the  perpetual  woik» 
ing  of  which  he  speaks  :  "  My  Father 
worketh  hitherto,  and  I  work."  We 
may  suppose  that  Christ  partly  referred 
to  that  perfect  union  of  will  and  opera- 
tion which  subsists  among  the  persons 
of  the  Trinity,  and  which  makes  them 
to  be  not  more  one  in  nature  than  in 
purpose.  When  St.  Paul,  in  writing  to 
the  Hebrews,  had  described  the  Son  as 
"the  brightness  of  the  Father's  glory, 
and  the  express  image  of  his  person," 
and  had  thus  assigned  him  the  honors  of 
Godhead,  he  went  on  to  speak  of  him  as 
"  upholding  all  things  by  the  word  of  his 
power,"  and  thus  attributed  to  him  that 
continued  agency  on  which  we  have  dis- 
coursed as  characteristic  of  Deity.  It 
might  then  have  been  a  sufficient  ex- 
planation of  our  text,  if  uttered  by  Christ 
in  his  divine  capacity,  to  have  refen-ed 
to  that  openness  which  there  is  among 
the  persons  of  the  Trinity,  and  to  have 
concluded  from  it  that  "  what  things  so- 
ever the  Father  doeth,  these  also  doeth 
the  Son  likewise."  But  we  have  alrea- 
dy stated  that  it  was  in  the  discharge  of 
his  mediatorial  office  that  Christ  had 
wrought  a  miracle  on  the  Sabbath  ;  and 
that  it  must  therefore  have  been  as  the 
Saviour,  rather  than  as  the  Creator  of 
the  world,  that  he  spake,  when  affirming 
his  own  continued  agency.  This  opens 
before  us  a  most  interesting  truth  ;  for 
Christ  exhibits  himself  as  having  been 
all  along  occupied  Vvith  redeeming,  just 
as  the  Father  had  been  with  preserving 
mankind.  In  his  mediatorial  capacity, 
for  in  this  he  now  spake,  he  had  not 
been  inactive  up  to  the  time  of  his  in- 
carnation, as  though,  until  the  Word 
were  made  flesh,  there  had  been  nothing 
to  be  done  on  behalf  of  transgressors. 
On  the  contrary,  there  had  been  the 
same  uninterrupted  agency  as  is  exer- 
cised by  God,  as  Ci-eator  and  Governor 
of  the  universe,  so  that  the  one  perpet- 
ual action  might  be  paralleled  by  the 
other,  "  INIy  Father  worketh  hitherto,  and 
I  work." 

We  speak  of  this  as  a  most  interesting, 
though  well-known  truth,  which  it  would 
be  for  our  profit  frequently  to  ponder. 
It  hath  pleased  God,  who  "worketh  all 
things  after  the  counsel  of  his  own  will," 
to  place  men  bcneatli  various  dispensa- 
tions, commanding  duties,  and  enjoining 
observances  peculiar  to  each.  We  have 
but  faint  traces  of  patriarchal  religion; 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


29t 


but  we  know  that,  whilst  the  world  was 
yet  young,  and  evil  only  of  recent  intro- 
duction, God  held  intercourse  with  the 
fathers  of  humankind,  and  instructed 
them  as  to  the  mode  in  which  he  would 
be  worshipped.  It  would  seem  that  he 
went  on  revealing  his  purposes,  with 
greater  and  greater  distinctness,  to  a  fa- 
vored few,  until  he  separated  one  peo- 
ple from  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  made 
them  the  depositary  of  truth.  And  then 
he  giadually  imposed  on  this  people  an 
assemblage  of  mystical  rites,  and  taught 
them  by  a  succession  of  prophets  and 
seers — every  instituted  ordinance  con- 
veying a  new  lesson,  and  every  inspired 
messeno^er  addinof  a  fresh  leaf  to  the 
volume  of  knowledge.  This  dispensa- 
tion had  its  period  ;  and  then,  the  fulness 
of  time  having  at  length  arrived,  the 
Jewish  temple,  with  its  mysterious  shad- 
ows and  sacramental  treasures,  depart- 
ed from  the  scene,  and  a  new  order  of 
things  was  introduced  by  Christ  and  his 
apostles. 

To  those  who  take  only  a  cursory 
survey  of  the  dealings  of  God,  it  might 
seem  as  though  there  had  been  no  same- 
ness in  these  various  dispensations,  but 
that  different  modes  of  obtaining  the 
divine  favor  had  been  prescribed  in  dif- 
ferent ages.  They  may  not  perceive 
that  close  connection  between  the  pa- 
triarchal, Jewish,  and  Christian  religions, 
that  uniformity  in  the  appointed  method 
of  salvation,  which  is  apparent  on  atten- 
tive inspection,  and  affirmed  by  the 
whole  tenor  of  the  Gospel.  There  is 
abundant  demonstration,  both  from  ex- 
press statements  of  Scripture,  and  from 
the  nature  of  each  successive  dispensa- 
tion, that,  from  the  first,  men  recovered 
the  forfeited  immortality  through  the 
suretyship  of  the  everlasting  Word  ; 
that,  from  the  first,  in  every  age  and 
every  land,  it  hath  been  equally  true 
that  there  "is  none  other  name  under 
heaven,"  but  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ, 
"given  among  men,  whereby  we  must 
be  saved."  There  were  vast  diff'erences 
in  the  degrees  in  which  Christ  was  made 
known ;  but,  all  along,  there  was  but 
one  Savior,  and  that  one,  Jesus  of  Na- 
zareth, The  early  patriarch,  who  as- 
sembled his  family  round  some  rude  al- 
tar, built  at  God's  command,  on  the 
mountain,  or  in  the  valley,  and  there  of- 
fered the  firstlings  of  his  flock;  the  Jew 
in  Egypt,  sprinkling  his  door-posts  with 


the  blood  of  the  Paschal  Lamb,  or  in  the 
wilderness,  following  the  pillar  of  fire 
and  cloud;  his  children,  settled  in  Ca- 
naan, thronging  to  a  magnificent  temple, 
with  the  blast  of  silver  trumpets,  and  the 
floating  of  incense,  and  the  pomp  of  a 
splendid  presthood  ;  these  were  all,  not- 
withstanding the  striking  differences  in 
external  circumstance,  seeking  the  sal- 
vation of  the  soul  through  the  same  chan- 
nel as  ourselves,  to  whom  the  Gospel  is 
preached  in  its  beauty  and  fulness.  We 
find  it  said  of  Abraham,  that  he  rejoiced 
to  see  Chirst's  day ;  that  he  saw  it,  and 
was  glad.  We  read  of  Isaiah,  that  he 
"saw  Christ's  glory,  and  spake  of  him." 
We  are  told  of  Moses,  that  he  "  esteem 
ed  the  reproach  of  Christ  greater  riches 
than  all  the  treasures  of  Egypt,"  And 
does  not  St.  Peter,  speaking  of  the 
righteous  men  v/ho  had  obtained  justifi- 
cation under  the  law,  use  this  remark- 
able expression  :  "  We  believe  that 
through  the  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  we  shall  be  saved  even  as  they  ]  " 
an  expression  which  puts  it  beyond  con- 
troversy, that,  from  the  earliest  days, 
there  had  been  but  one  mode  of  salva- 
tion ;  and  that,  when  there  appeared  on 
the  earth  the  "one  Mediator  between 
God  and  man,"  no  new  way  was  opened 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ;  there  was 
only  poured  a  flood  of  glorious  light  on 
the  path  which  had  been  trodden  by 
good  men  under  every  dispensation.  It 
were  almost  to  quote  the  whole  Bible  to 
produce,  if  we  may  use  such  expression, 
the  footprints  of  a  Mediator  which  are 
discernible  along  the  line  of  the  patri- 
archal and  legal  economy.  "  To  Him 
give  all  the  prophets  witness."  He  it 
was  whom  seers  beheld,  when  the  train 
of  future  things  swept  before  them  in 
mysterious  procession.  He  died  in  eve- 
ry sacrifice  ;  he  ascended  in  every  cloud 
of  incense  ;  his  name  was  in  every  jubi- 
lee shout ;  his  majesty  in  the  awfulness 
of  the  holy  of  holies. 

And  if  it  be  true  that  Christ  was  a  Sa- 
viour as  well  before  as  after  his  incarna- 

i  tion  ;  that,  at  the  very  instant  of  human 
apostacy,  he  entered  on  his  great  office  ; 

•  and  that  he  hath  labored  in  its  discharge, 
whensoever  there  was  a  soul  to  be  sav- 

■  ed ;    must  it  not  be  allowed   that  there 

;  was  demanded  as  uninterrupted  an  ac- 
tivity from  the  Redeemer,  as  from  the 
Upholder  and  moral  Governor  of  the 
universe  1     As  soon  as  there  v/as  sin, 


294 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


there  was  salvation — salvation  through 
Christ.  And  if  there  were  salvation, 
there  must  liave  been  the  intei'ference 
and  agency  of  the  Savior,  who  anticipat- 
ing his  passion  and  death,  must  have 
acted  as  an  advocate  with  God,  present- 
ing the  virtues  of  his  own  sacrifice,  and 
thus  averting  from  the  guilty  the  doom 
they  had  dt'served.  We  know  not  whe- 
ther many,  or  whether  only  few,  were 
gathered  in  early  days  into  tlie  kingdom 
of  heaven.  But  the  determining  this  is 
not  material  to  our  being  certified  of  the 
incessant  occupation  with  which  the 
Mediator  was  charged.  Enough  that 
he  had  to  act  as  Mediator;  and  we 
might  almost  say  that  he  had  the  same 
amount  of  labor,  whether  men  were 
saved,  or  whether  they  perished.  Who 
shall  doubt  that  Christ  has  toiled  for  a 
lost  soul,  as  well  as  for  a  rescued — toil- 
ing through  the  striving  of  his  Spirit, 
and  with  the  shedding  of  his  blood, 
though  he  have  not  won  from  unrighte- 
ousness the  being  with  whom  he  hath 
pleaded,  and  for  whom  he  died  1  He 
had  been  busy,  not  only  with  the  eight 
who  were  enclosed  in  the  ark,  but  with 
the  thousands  upon  thousands  who 
wrestled  vainly  with  the  deluge.  He 
had  been  busy,  not  only  with  those 
among  the  Jews  who  died  in  faith,  but 
with  the  great  body  of  the  people,  who 
trusted  in  ceremonies,  and  put  shadow 
for  substance.  He  had  been  busy,  not 
only  with  this  single  and  isolated  nation, 
but  with  those  vast  masses  of  human 
kind  who  had  only  the  feeble  notices  of 
truth  derivable  from  tradition  and  con- 
science. He  had  been  busy  with  making 
men  inexcusable,  chargeable  altogether 
with  their  own  condemnation,  when  he 
could  not  prevail  on  them  to  deny  un- 
godliness and  worldly  lusts,  and  give 
themselves  in  good  earnest  to  the  seek- 
ing their  God.  Thus  every  human  be- 
ing had  furnished  employment  to  the 
Medialor,  as  well  as  to  the  Creator.  The 
individual  had  not  sprung  of  Adam's  hne, 
who  had  not  drawn  the  notice,  and  en- 
gaged the  operations  of  the  Surety  of 
tlie  fallen,  even  as  he  had  been  watched 
by  the  Providence  which  is  about  our 
path,  and  about  our  bed,  and  spieth  out 
all  our  ways.  And,  therefore,  might  the 
uninteiTupted  activity  of  a  Redeemer  be 
spoken  of  in  tlie  same  terms  witli  that 
of  the  universal  Guardian  ami  (rovernor 
—no  pause  in  the  one  any  more  than  in 


the  other,  no  moment  of  idleness,  no  in* 
terval  of  repose — and  Christ  could  em- 
ploy the  present  tense  in  speaking  not 
only  of  the  Father's  operations,  but  of 
his  own,  just  as  he  could  apply  to  him- 
self the  sublime  definition,  "1  am  that  I 
am;"  and  say  to  the  Jews  when  they 
arraigned  him  for  healing  on  the  Sabbath, 
"  My  Father  worketh  hitherto,  and  I 
work." 

Now  we  are  aware,  that,  in  thus  show- 
ing you  the  unremitting  acti\'ity  which 
had  been  required  from  the  Mediator, 
we  do  not  apparently  take  as  wide  a 
sweep,  or  display  as  mighty  a  work,  as 
under  our  first  head  of  discourse,  when 
the  employments  of  the  Creator  engaged 
our  attention.  W^c  have  confined  our- 
selves to  the  single  globe  on  which  we 
dwell,  and  to  the  single  race  to  which 
we  belong  :  whereas  before,  we  had  im- 
mensity across  which  to  travel,  and 
countless  orders  of  being  to  gather 
under  the  wing  of  the  one  Great  Pro- 
tector. But  possibly  we  take  a  con- 
tracted view  of  the  office  and  occupation 
of  the  Son,  when  we  reduce  them  within 
narrower  limits  than  those  of  the  Father. 
It  may  be,  that  our  world  is  the  only 
world  on  which  evil  gained  footing,  and 
our  race  the  only  race  over  which  Satan 
triumphed.  But  if  this  opinion  were  in- 
contestably  proved  just,  it  would  not  fol- 
low that  the  mediatorial  work  of  Christ 
was  confined,  in  its  consequences,  to 
Adam  and  his  posterity.  If  all  those 
worlds,  which  we  see  travelling  in  their 
brightness,  be  inhabited  by  beings  who 
never  ti^ansgressed,  I  do  not  conclude 
that  they  cannot  have  interest  in  the  of- 
fice assumed  by  the  second  person  in  the 
Trinity.  We  know  that  the  possibility 
of  falling  is  inseparable  from  creature- 
ship  ;  so  that  there  must  be  some  exter- 
nal security,  ere  any  finite  being  can  be 
certain  to  keep  its  first  estate.  We 
know  this  from  the  very  nature  of  the 
case  :  for  it  is  to  make  the  C7-eature  equal 
to  the  Creator,  to  suppose  it  in  itself 
incapable  of  sin.  We  know  this 
moreover  from  the  history  of  fallen 
angels.  They  were  the  very  loftiest 
of  created  beings :  they  lived  in  the 
light  of  God's  immediate  presence  : 
there  was  nothing  from  without  to 
originate  temptation  :  and  nevertiielesa 
they  rebelled  against  their  Maker,  and 
procured  for  themselves  an  eternity  ol 
torment. 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCV  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


295 


But  if  the  possibility  of  falling  away 
must  thus  exist  throughout  the  universe, 
why  ai'e  we  to  conclude  that  Christ,  in 
his  office  of  Mediator,  has  done  nothing 
for  those  ranks  of  intelligent  being 
which  have  maintained  their  allegiance  1 
If  they  are  now  secured  against  falling 
away,  what  has  made  them  secure  ? 
What  has  thrown  round  them  such  a 
rampart  against  the  incursions  of  evil, 
that  there  is  certainty  of  their  continuing 
the  obedient  and  the  happy  ]  We  know 
of  no  satisfactory  answer  to  these  ques- 
tions— and  they  are  questions  which 
force  themselves  upon  every  man  who 
considers  what  creatureship  is — but  that 
which  supposes  the  whole  universe  in- 
terested in  the  suretyship  of  Jesus,  and 
affected  by  his  mediation.  Of  course,  we 
do  not  mean,  that,  where  no  sin  had 
been  committed  there  could  be  need  of 
the  shedding  of  blood.  But  those  who 
required  not  expiation,  required  the  be- 
ing confirmed  and  established  ;  they  re- 
quired to  have  their  happiness  made 
permanent  through  some  coiTCction  of 
its  natural  mutability.  When,  there- 
fore, the  Son  of  God  undertook  to  link 
the  created  with  the  uncreated,  the  finite 
with  the  infinite,  in  his  own  divine  per- 
son, he  probably  did  that  which  gave 
stability  to  unfallen  orders,  as  well  as 
wrought  the  recovery  of  a  fallen.  He 
maintained  the  obedient,  as  well  as 
raised  the  disobedient ;  and,  by  the  same 
act,  rendered  it  impossible  that  those 
then  pure  should  be  polluted,  and  pos- 
sible, that  men,  though  polluted,  might 
be  cleansed.  And  now,  if  you  tell  me 
of  glorious  worlds,  where  the  inhabitants 
have  no  sins  of  which  to  repent,  I  do 
not,  on  that  account,  conclude  that  they 
cannot  join  with  me  in  gratitude  to  a 
Mediator.  Whilst  I  thank  and  bless 
him  for  my  restoration,  they  may  thank 
and  bless  him  for  their  preservation. 
His  the  arm  which  has  raised  me  from 
ruin  :  his  may  be  the  arm  which  has  re- 
tained them  in  glory.  Why,  then,  may 
we  not  think  that  the  mediatorial 
energy  is  every  jot  as  wisely  diffused 
and  as  incessantly  occupied,  as  that  of 
the  Upholder  and  Governor  of  the  uni- 
verse ]  It  is  not  this  globe  alone,  it  is 
every  world  throughout  a  teeming  im- 
mensity, which  furnishes  employment 
to  the  Father,  engaging  his  inspections, 
requiring  his  support,  and  offering  him 
homage.     And  equally  may  the  Son  be 


occupied  with  every  home  of  intelligent 
being,  ministering  throughout  the  broad 
sweep  of  the  spiritual  creation,  to  the 
retaining  those  in  obedience  who  are  by 
nature  in  constant  danger  of  apostacy. 
Hence,  just  as  we  refer  it  to  the  imme- 
diate agency  of  God,  that  stars  and 
planets  retain  their  places,  and  perform 
their  revolutions,  so  would  we  refer  it  to 
the  immediate  agency  of  Christ,  that  the 
successive  ranks  of  the  heavenly  hosts 
preserve  their  glory,  and  walk  their  bril- 
liant circuits  :  and  we  have  no  account 
to  give  why  there  is  no  jostling  in  the 
material  world,  and  no  apostacy  in  the 
moral :  why  the  wants  of  whatsoever 
liveth  are  supplied,  and  all  that  is  holy 
in  created  orders  is  kept  from  decay — 
none  but  that  furnished  by  the  combina- 
tion of  providential  and  mediatorial  ac- 
tivity, which  is  here  affirmed  by  Christ, 
"  My  Father  worketh  hitherto,  and  I 
work." 

There  is  yet  another  consideration, 
suggested  by  these  words  of  our  Lord, 
with  which  we  would,  in  conclu- 
sion, engage  your  attention.  Christ  had 
wrought  a  miracle  on  the  Sabbath ;  and 
he  justified  his  so  doing  by  stating  that 
his  work  allowed  of  no  interruptions, 
but  must  be  prosecuted  incessantly,  like 
that  of  actuating  and  sustaining  the  uni- 
verse. The  effect  of  this  statement 
should  be  to  give  us  the  same  confidence 
in  addressing  ourselves  to  Christ  as  our 
]Mediator,  and  to  God  as  our  Father. 
The  providence  on  which  we  depend 
for  daily  bread  is  not,  it  appears,  more 
active  or  unwearied  than  the  interces- 
sion through  which  must  come  our  daily 
grace.  And  as  that  providence  watches 
what  is  mean  and  inconsiderable,  so 
that  not  even  a  sparrow  falls  unobserved, 
we  conclude  that  the  intercession  leaves 
not  out  the  very  poorest ;  and  that,  con- 
sequently, insignificance  can  no  more 
exclude  us  from  the  sympathy  and  suc- 
cor of  a  Savior,  than  from  the  bounty 
and  guardianship  of  God.  There  should 
be  something  very  consolatory  to  the 
timid  and  downcast,  in  the  parallel 
which  our  text  draws  between  the  agen- 
cies of  the  Father  and  the  Son.  The 
Son,  it  appears,  is  as  assiduously  em- 
ployed in  his  office  of  Mediator,  as  the 
Father  in  that  of  the  common  Parent 
and  Ruler  :  then  let  me  judge  what  may 
be  expected  from  the  one,  bj  what  I 
know  of  the  other.     The  Father  "  feed- 


296 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DRY  BONES. 


eth  the  young  ravens,"  espouseth  the 
cause  of  the  widow,  and  declares  and 
proves  himself  the  helper  of  the  friend- 
less. Then  the  Son  will  do  no  less  : 
"  He  will  nf)t  break  the  bruised  reed, 
and  the  smoking  flax  he  will  nut  quench." 
He  will  be  the  High  Priest  of  those  who 
have  only,  like  the  widow,  two  mites  to 
present ;  and  will  sprinkle  his  blood  on 
the  unworthiest,  "  without  money  and 
without  price."  "  My  Father  work- 
eth;"  and  whom  does  he  neglect,  whom 
fail  to  sustain  ]  "I  work  :"  and  to  whom 
will  I  refuse  pardon,  who  shall  come  to 
me  and  be  cast  out  ]  It  were  to  des- 
troy all  the  energy  of  the  sentence,  to 
take  all  force  from  the  combination,  to 
doubt  that  Christ  is  as  vigilant  about  my 
60ul,  as  earnest  in  noting  ray  spiritual 
dangers,  as  liberal  in  supplying  my 
spiritual  wants,  as  is  God  in  reference 
to  my  body,  though  I  cannot  breathe 
the  breath  which  he  does  not  inspire, 
nor  eat  the  the  morsel  which  he  does 
not  provide.  And  this  should  produce 
great  confidence  iu  Christ  as  a  Media- 


tor. If  there  be  one  of  us  who  has  long 
lain,  like  the  impotent  man.  by  the  pool 
of  Bethesda,  deriving  no  benefit  from 
the  salutary  waters,  let  him  look  up  in 
faith  to  the  Savior,  who  is  now  saying 
to  him,  "  Wilt  thou  be  made  whole  ] " 
and  as  aprDof  that  this  Savior  yet  work 
eth  on  the  Sabbath,  he  shall  find  his 
limbs  strengthened,  and  he  shall  depart 
from  the  temple,  "  walking,  and  leaping 
and  praising  God."  Yes,  if  ye  will  in- 
deed be  earnest  in  breaking  loose  fi'om 
evil  habits,  renouncing  practices,  and 
forsaking  associates,  against  which  con- 
science warns  you,  we  can  promise  that 
Christ  will  so  communicate  unto  you 
the  assistances  of  his  Spirit,  that  you 
shall  become  living  proofs  that  the  medi- 
atorial energy  is  not  abated  ;  whilst  stars, 
and  forests,  and  mountains  are  witness- 
ing to  the  unwearied  activities  of  our 
Maker,  ye  shall  witness  to  the  unwearied 
activities  of  our  Redeemer:  and  thus 
shall  full  evidence  be  given  that  Christ 
might  still  say,  "  My  Father  worketh 
hitherto,  and  I  work.  " 


SERMON    III. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DRY  BONES. 


"  And  he  said  unto  me,  Son  of  man,  can  these  bones  live?    And  I  answered,  O  Lord  God,  thou  knowest." 

EZEKIEL,  XXXVII.  3. 


In  the  preceding  chapter  Ezekiel  had 
delivered  very  animated  and  encourag- 
ing predictions  of  the  prosperity  of  the 
houses  of  Israel  and  Judah.  There  is 
a  fulness  in  these  predictions  which  will 
scarce  admit  of  our  applyitig  them  ex- 
clusively to  events  which  have  already 
occurred.  Ezekiel  jirophesied  during 
the  Babylonish  captivity  ;  and  we  may 
believe  that   the  words  which   he  was 


commissioned  to  utter,  had  a  primary 
refei'ence  to  the  then  desolate  estate  of 
his  country  and  nation.  When  he  S])eak8 
of  dispersion  and  captivity,  and  when 
he  pours  forth  announcements  of  restor- 
ation and  greatness,  it  may  well  be  sup- 
posed that  there  is,  at  least,  an  allusion 
to  the  existing  circumstances  of  tho 
Jews,  and  their  apjn-oaching  deliverance 
by  Cyrus.     And  it  is  possible  that  those, 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DRY  BONES. 


297 


who  first  heard  his  predictions,  received 
them  only  in  their  primary  sense,  and 
looked  not  on  to  a  more  thorough  fulfil- 
ment, worthy  of  the  splendor  of  the  fig- 
ures, and  the  amplitude  of  the  language. 
But  to  ourselves,  who  can  compare  the 
event  with  the  prophecy,  it  must  be  evi- 
dent that  a  deliverance  greater  than  any 
past,  was  foreseen  by  Ezekiel.  Even 
if  it  could  be  shown  that  the  condition 
of  the  Jews,  after  their  return  from  Ba- 
bylon, answered  to  the  prophet's  lofty 
descriptions  of  national  prosperity,  we 
should  be  unable  to  interpret  the  pre- 
dictions without  having  respect  to  yet 
future  things.  There  can  hardly  be 
dispute  that  the  ten  tribes,  which  con- 
stituted the  kingdom  of  Israel,  have 
never  been  restored  to  their  own  land, 
but  are  still  in  some  mysterious  seclu- 
sion, exiles  from  Palestine.  Only  the 
tribes  of  Judah  and  Benjamin  were  led 
captive  by  Nebuchadnezzai",  and  sent 
back  by  Cyrus.  Undoubtedly,  certain 
individuals,  who  belonged  to  the  king- 
dom of  Israel,  were  mixed  with  these 
in  captivity  and  in  restoration.  But  as 
a  body,  the  ten  tribes  have  never  yet 
been  restored ;  so  that,  if  predictions, 
which  refer  to  the  house  of  Judah, 
could  be  proved  accomplished  by  their 
return  home  from  Babylon,  the  like  ac- 
count could  not  be  given  of  those  which 
have  to  do  with  the  kingdom  of  Israel. 

And  if  you  examine  the  predictions 
of  Ezekiel  in  the  foregoing  chapter, 
and  in  that  which  contains  our  text,  you 
will  perceive  that  Israel  is  so  associated 
with  Judah,  that  no  restoration  can  be 
ultimately  intended,  Avhich  does  not  in- 
clude both.  This  might  be  proved  of 
each  part  of  the  prophecies  in  question ; 
but  we  will  confine  ourselves  to  the  c^ose 
of  the  second  of  the  chapters.  The 
prophet  is  directed  to  take  two  sticks  ; 
to  write  on  one,  "For  Judah,  and  for 
the  childien  of  Israel  his  companions;" 
on  the  other,  "  For  Joseph,  the  stick  of 
Ephraim,  and  for  all  the  house  of  Israel 
his  companions."  These  sticks,  thus 
inscribed,  are  to  be  held  in  the  hand  of 
Ezekiel ;  they  are  to  become  one  stick 
in  his  hand  ;  and  then  he  is  to  utter  a 
prediction,  explanatory  of  this  symboli- 
cal transaction,  declaring  that  both  Ju- 
dah and  Israel  should  be  gathered  back 
from  their  dispersions  ;  that  they  should 
no  longer  oe  two  nations,  but  be  com- 
bined, like  the  sticks,  into  one  people 


under  one  king.  You  can  give  no  fair 
interpretation  of  such  a  prophecy  as 
this,  if  you  limit  its  scope  to  the  events 
of  past  days  :  for  you  can  find  no  account 
in  history  of  such  a  restoration  of  the 
twelve  tiibes,  and  of  their  re-establish- 
ment as  one  nation  under  David  their 
prince. 

Accordingly,  we  conclude  that  yet 
future  occurrences  passed  before  the 
view  of  the  prophet.  We  believe  that 
the  seer  had  his  eye  on  a  restoration  of 
the  children  of  Abraham,  of  which  none 
that  has  yet  happened  can  have  been 
more  than  a  type.  And  we  refer  these 
chapters,  though  vnthout  denying  that 
they  may  have  had  a  piimary  and  par- 
tial accomplishment  in  events  connected 
with  the  close  of  the  Babylonish  captivi- 
ty, to  a  glorious  season,  when  God  shall 
bring  to  their  own  land  the  people  whom 
he  hath  cast  off  in  displeasure,  and  who 
have  been  wanderers  for  centuries  over 
the  habitable  earth.  Then,  when  from 
the  east  and  west,  from  the  north  and 
south,  there  shall  have  flowed  into  Judea 
the  sons  and  daughters  of  those  to  whom 
the  land  was  originally  given,  and  the 
re-instated  people  shall  hold  the  sove- 
reignty of  the  globe  beneath  the  sceptre 
of  the  long-rejected  Christ,  will  there 
be  a  deliverance  worthy  of  the  trium- 
phant strains  of  Isaiah,  and  a  greatness 
commensurate  with  the  majestic  descrip- 
tions of  Ezekiel. 

Such  is  the  first  point  which  it  is  ne- 
cessary to  settle  before  entering  on  the 
examination  of  our  text  and  its  context. 
We  must  determine  the  period  whose 
occurrences  the  prophet  delineates ; 
else  we  may  easily  go  far  wrong  in  ex- 
plaining his  sketches.  But  this  is  not 
all  ;  there  is  a  second  preliminary  to 
which  we  would  direct  your  attention. 
The  Jews  are  to  be  regarded  as  a  typi- 
cal nation,  so  that  their  history  is  figu- 
rative, and  may  be  studied  as  a  parable. 
You  cannot  ask  proof  of  this  ;  for  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  read  the  books  of 
Moses,  to  follow  the  Isi-aelites  into  their 
prison  in  Egypt,  and  then  through  the 
wilderness  to  their  rest  in  Canaan,  with- 
out feeling  that  what  happened  to  this 
people  describes,  as  by  a  figure,  what 
happens  to  the  church.  There  is  mani- 
festly a  moral  in  all  that  occurs ;  or,  to 
speak  more  accurately,  our  spiritual 
history  is  traced  in  the  events  which  be- 
fell the  Jews  as  a  nation.  With  them 
38 


29S 


THE  RESURECTION  OF  DRY  BOXES. 


we  are  naturally  slaves  under  an  impe- 
rious task-master ;  with  them  we  are 
delivered  from  bondage,  though  by  a 
mightier  than  Moses ;  with  them  we 
march  through  a  wiklcrness^  dieary  in 
itself,  but  rendered  more  appalling  by 
our  murmuring  and  unbelief,  to  a  land 
that  floweth  with  the  milk  and  the  ho- 
ney. And  it  may  be,  that  this  typical 
character  of  the  Jews  extends  beyond 
these  simjjle  and  self-evident  particu- 
lars. We  should  be  disposed  to  say  of 
the  history  of  this  people,  taken  in  its 
spreading  over  the  future  as  well  as 
the  past,  that  it  is  the  exact  miniature  of 
that  of  the  human  race.  The  Jews  have 
lost  their  peculiar  position  in  the  favor 
of  God,  and  are  wanderers  from  the  land 
which  is  specially  their  own.  But  they 
are  yet  to  be  restored  to  their  forfeited 
place,  and  to  enjoy  in  Canaan  a  higher 
than  their  first  dignity.  Thus  the  hu- 
man race,  having  apostatized  from  God, 
is  left  for  a  while  in  the  dreariness  of 
exile,  but  is  reserved  for  the  richest 
splendors  of  immortality.  Men,  there- 
fore, in  general,  may  be  to  angels  what 
the  Jews  are  to  the  rest  of  humankind. 
Angels  may  read  in  the  records  of  the 
fallen  but  yet  beloved  race,  precisely 
what  we  read  in  those  of  the  rejected, 
but  not  forgotten,  people.  And  as  we 
look  forward  to  the  restoration  of  the 
Jews,  as  big  with  interest  to  all  the 
dwellers  on  this  globe,  so  may  angels 
expect  the  final  "  manifestation  of  the 
sons  of  God,"  when  Christ  ajid  his 
church  shall  shine  out  in  their  glory,  as 
fraught  with  the  mightiest  results  to 
every  rank  of  intelligent  being. 

But  without  examining,  more  at 
length,  the  respect  in  which  the  Jews 
may  be  regarcled  as  a  typical  people, 
we  may  consider  the  general  fact  so 
readily  acknowledged  that  we  may  safe- 
ly assume  it  in  any  process  of  reason- 
ing. And  as  a  consequence  on  this  al- 
lowed fact,  we  may  suppose  that  when 
we  meet  with  a  figurative  delineation 
of  things  that  were  to  happen  to  the 
Jews,  it  is  to  be  also  treated  as  a  figu- 
rative delineation  of  things  that  relate 
to  the  whole  humaa  race.  At  least,  and 
this  is  probably  as  far  as  we  shall  find 
it  necessary  to  go  in  our  present  dis- 
course, there  can  be  no  gnuind  for  call- 
ing an  interpretation  fanciful,  if,  after 
treating  a  parable  as  descriptive,  in  the 
first  instance,  of  the  state  or  ex2)ecta- 


tion  of  the  Jews,  we  assign  it  a  spirit* 
ual  meaning,  and  apply  it,  in  the  second 
place,  to  our  own  circumstances,  or 
those  of  the  church. 

Now  we  have  thus  cleared  the  way 
for  our  entering  on  the  examination  of 
that  very  singular  jjortion  of  holy  writ 
with  which  our  text  is  associated.  We 
have  determined  that,  so  far  as  it  is 
prophetic  of  occun'ences  in  the  history 
of  the  Jews,  its  accomplishment  is  to 
be  mainly  sought  in  the  future  rather 
than  the  past ;  we  have  also  ascertained 
that,  though  in  its  primary  application, 
it  belongs  only  to  a  solitary  people,  it 
may  bo  regarded  as  referring,  in  its  spi- 
ritual meaning,  to  the  whole  human 
race.  Let  these  preliminaries  be  borne 
in  mind,  and  they  will  aid  us  in  avoid- 
ing mistake,  and  discovering  truth. 

The  portion  of  Scripture  which  we 
are  about  to  investigate,  is,  as  we  have 
just  hinted,  one  of  the  most  singular 
which  its  pages  present.  It  relates  what 
may  be  considered  as  a  vision  granted 
to  the  prophet  Ezekiel,  though  the  nar- 
rative might  pass  for  that  of  an  actual 
occurrence.  Ezekiel,  after  uttering  pre- 
dictions which  breathe  the  future  glo- 
ries of  Israel  and  Judah,  is  "  carried  out 
in  the  Spirit  of  tho  Lord,"  and  set  down 
in  a  valley  full  of  bones.  These  bones, 
so  numerous  that  they  lay  on  all  sides 
of  the  prophet,  appeared  to  have  be- 
longed to  men  long  dead,  for  "  they 
were  very  dry,"  as  though  they  had 
been  for  years  thus  scattered  and  ex- 
posed. As  Ezekiel  gazed  on  this  ghast- 
ly spectacle,  there  came  to  him  from 
God  the  question  of  our  text,  "  Son  of 
man,  can  these  bones  live?"  It  was  a 
hard  question,  at  a  time  when  "  life  and 
immortality  "  had  not  been  "  brought  to 
light  by  the  Gospel :"  and  therefore  the 
prophet,  without  casting  doubt  on  the 
power  of  the  Almighty,  returns  the  mo- 
dest and  half-inquiring  ariswer,  "  O  Lord 
God,  thou  knovvest."  The  heavenly 
voice  then  commands  him  to  prophesy 
upon  these  bones,  to  address  them  as 
though  they  were  living  and  intelligent, 
and  to  ])rcdict  their  being  reconstructed 
into  symmetry,  and  re-aniniated  with 
breath.  The  prophet  betrays  no  reluc- 
tance :  he  does  not  hesitate  because  it 
seemed  useless  to  address  these  frag- 
ments of  skeletons  ;  but  at  (mce  obeys 
the  command,  and  delivers  the  message. 
And  whilst  he  was  in  the  very  act  of 


TUE  RESURRECTION  OF  DRY  BONES. 


299 


Uttering  the  prophecy,  lo,  a  noise  was 
heard  as  of  a  rustling  among  the  bones  ; 
they  began  to  move,  as  though  instinct 
with  life,  each  seeking  his  fellow,  so 
that  bone  came  to  bone  with  the  very 
nicest  precision.  Then  "  the  sinews  and 
the  flesh  came  upon  them;"  the  sinews 
bound  them,  and  the  skin  covered  them  : 
and  thus  the  valley  was  filled  with  hu- 
man bodies.  These  bodies,  however, 
were  as  yet  without  breath ;  but  the 
voice  of  the  Lord  was  again  heard,  direct- 
ing the  prophet  to  prophesy  to  the  wind, 
that  it  might  come  and  breathe  upon  the 
Blain.  This  having  been  done,  the  breath 
came  into  the  carcasses  ;  they  started 
from  the  ground  as  animated  things, 
"  and  stood  up  upon  their  feet,  an  ex- 
ceeding great  army." 

Such  was  the  vision  granted  to  Eze- 
kiel ;  and  God  immediately  inrormed 
him  of  its  purport.  He  told  him  that 
these  bones  were  the  whole  house  of 
Israel ;  and  that,  however  desolate  the 
condition  of  that  people  might  appear, 
he  would  yet  open  their  graves,  and 
cause  them  to  come  out  of  their  graves. 
As  the  bones  had  been  rebuilded  into 
human  bodies,  so  should  the  disjointed 
and  shattered  people  of  Israel  be  recon- 
structed into  a  kingdom ;  and  God 
would  put  .in  them  his  spirit,  and  make 
them  live,  and  place  them  once  more 
in  their  own  land.  It  admits,  therefore, 
of  no  dispute  that  the  parable — for  such 
may  the  vision  justly  be  styled — was 
primarily  designed  to  predict  a  resto- 
ration to  Palestine  of  its  rightful  but 
exiled  possessors.  But  with  this  design 
we  are  at  liberty  to  connect  another, 
that  of  representing,  under  figures  de- 
rived from  things  happening  to  the 
Jews,  truths  in  which  all  men  have  in- 
terest. And  thus  our  business,  whilst 
endeavoring  to  explain  the  parable 
more  at  length,  will  be  to  apply  it  to 
the  children  of  Abraham,  in  the  first 
place  in  their  national,  and  in  the  se- 
cond in  their  typical  capacity,  and  to 
show  in  both  cases  the  fidelity  of  the 
representation. 

Now  you  are  to  observe  the  position 
in  which  the  vision  stands  :  it  is  not  a 
detached  thing,  but  occurs  in  the  midst 
of  a  continuous  prophecy,  having  mani- 
fest respect  to  what  precedes,  and  what 
follows.  The  two  chapters,  the  3Gth 
and  37th  of  the  book  of  Ezekiel,  contain 
one  noble  prediction  of  glories   to   be 


reached  by  Judah  and  Israel :  and 
though  this  prediction  may  seem  inter- 
rupted by  the  vision,  a  little  inquiry  will 
show  you  that  it  is  but  illustrated  and 
confirmed.  The  Jews,  to  whom  Ezekiel 
addressed  the  glowing  announcements 
of  the  36th  chapter,  would  probably 
look  on  their  forlorn  and  seemingly  hope- 
less estate,  and  conclude  it  impossible 
that  what  was  so  fallen  should  ever 
reach  the  predicted  eminence.  To  meet 
this  suspicion  the  vision  is  granted. 
The  wretchedness,  and,  on  all  human 
appearance,  the  hopelessness,  of  their 
condition  is  freely  acknowledged ;  for 
they  are  represented  as  whitening  bones, 
scattered  over  a  plain,  in  regard  of 
which  there  could  be  no  expectation  of 
a  resurrection  unto  life.  But  when  these 
bones  move,  and  "  an  exceeding  great 
army  "  of  living  men  succeeds  to  the  ar- 
ray of  disjointed  skeletons,  the  Jews  are 
most  powerfully  taught  how  wrongly 
they  argued  from  the  difficulty  to  the 
improbability.  There  could  not  be  a 
transition  less  to  have  been  expected 
than  that  exhibited  in  the  valley  of  vision: 
and,  if  God  could  effect  this,  why  should 
it  be  thought  that  he  could  not  make 
good  his  promises  to  a  conquered  and 
dispersed  people  1  Thus  the  vision 
seems  introduced  into  the  midst  of  the 
prophecy,  not  to  break  its  continuity, 
but  to  obviate  an  objection  which  might 
be  rising  in  the  minds  of  the  hearers  ; 
and  we  are  therefore  to  take  the  vision 
as  a  part  of  the  prophecy,  and  to  refer  it 
with  the  rest  to  yet  future  times.  In 
so  doing,  we  deny  not,  as  we  stated  at 
the  outset,  that  one  purpose  of  the  vision 
may  have  been  to  comfort  the  Jews 
then  in  Babylon,  and  to  assure  them  of 
a  speedy  return  to  the  land  of  their 
fathers.  But  forasmuch  as  the  whole 
prediction,  of  which  the  vision  forms 
part,  can  be  satisfied  by  nothing  which 
has  already  occurred,  we  seem  bound 
to  seek  the  fulfilment  of  the  vision  itself 
in  the  yet  coming  fortunes  of  Judah  and 
Israel.  Let  us  then  regard  the  parable 
before  us  as  figuring  the  condition  of 
God's  people  in  their  dispersion,  and 
that  restoration  which  we  are  yet  bid- 
den to  expect ;  and  we  shall  find  an  ac- 
curacy and  a  fulness  of  descrij^tion,  not 
surpassed  in  any  portion  of  prophecy. 
Of  course,  we  can  only  gather  our  argu- 
ments and  illustrations  from  the  history 
of  the  Jews  ;  for  we  are  ignorant  of  what 


800 


THE  RESURRECT/O.V  OF  DRY  BO>fES. 


has  befallen  the  ten  tribes,  since  carried 
into  captivity  by  the  king  of  Assyria. 
But  this  will  suffice.  If  the  description 
be  proved  correct,  so  far  as  we  have 
the  power  of  examining  its  accuracy, 
we  shall  have  little  cause  to  question  its 
fidelity  on  points  which  lie  beyond  our 
range  of  information. 

We  observe  the  state  of  the  Jews 
during  long  centuries  past ;  and  we  ask 
whether  it  have  not  been  described  to 
the  letter  by  what  Ezekiel  beheld  in 
the  valley  of  vision  ]  Ever  since  the 
Romans  were  let  loose  on  the  devoted 
land  and  people,  the  whole  globe  has 
been  this  valley  of  vision  ;  for  everywhere 
have  been  scattered  the  fragments  of 
the  once  favored  nation.  Both  the  civil 
and  the  ecclesiastical  polity  of  the  Jews 
were  completely  broken  up ;  and  there 
has  never  been  the  least  approach  to- 
wards the  reconstruction  of  any  govern- 
ment of  their  own.  They  have  lived  in- 
deed under  every  sort  of  rule,  having 
been  mixed  with  every  people  under 
heaven,  though  all  along  kept  marvellous- 
ly distinct.  But  never,  since  their  sins 
provoked  God  to  give  them  up,  have 
they  had  governors  and  laws  of  their 
own  ;  and  never,  therefore,  have  they 
been  aught  else  than  the  skeleton  of  a 
nation,  and  that  too  a  skeleton  whose 
bones  have  been  detached,  and  spread 
confessedly  throughout  the  whole  valley. 
And  if  there  had  come,  at  any  time,  a 
voice  from  heaven,  demanding  whether 
these  dry  bones  could  live,  whether  the 
dispersed  Jews  could  ever  again  be 
gathered  under  one  head,  and  within 
their  own  land,  the  answer  of  those,  who 
most  acknowledged  the  divine  power, 
must  have  been,  "  O  Lord  God,  thou 
knowest."  On  all  human  computation, 
there  lies  an  improbability,  which  is 
little  short  of  an  impossibility,  against 
the  return  of  the  children  of  Abraham, 
from  every  section  of  the  earth,  to  Judah, 
and  their  re-establishment  as  an  inde- 
pendent people.  The  bones  are  many  : 
who  shall  collect  so  vast  a  multitude  1 
The  bones  are  dry  :  who  shall  animate 
what  hath  so  long  wanted  vitality  1 
Yet,  wo  are  commanded  to  prophesy 
over  these  bones  ;  to  declare,  in  unqual- 
ified language,  that  the  Jews  shall  re- 
turn home,  when  "  the  times  of  the 
Gentiles "  arc  fulfilled,  rebuild  their 
Jerusalem,  and  possess  the  sovereignty 
of  the  earth.     If  there  be  a  point  on 


which  prophecy  is  clearer  and  more  dif- 
fuse than  on  another,  it  seems  to  us  to 
be  this  of  the  restoration  of  Israel,  and 
of  the  setting  up  of  the  thror'e  of  David 
in  the  land  which  the  stranger  has  long 
possessed  and  profaned.  And  whilst 
we  have  this  "  sure  word  of  prophecy," 
it  is  not  the  apparent  difficulty  which 
can  make  us  hesitate  to  expect  the  mar- 
vellous occurrence.  There  shall  be  a 
stirring  amongst  the  dry  bones.  We 
know  not  by  what  mysterious  impulse 
and  agency  a  people,  spread  over  the 
whole  earth,  shall  be  suddenly  and 
simultaneously  moved  :  but  bone  shall 
come  to  bone,  Jew  shall  seek  out  and 
combine  with  Jew :  the  sinew  and  the 
flesh  shall  come  up  upon  these  bones 
— there  shall  be  a  principle  of  union, 
combining  what  have  long  been  detach- 
ed ;  and  thus  shall  the  scattered  ele- 
ments be  reconstructed  into  the  skele- 
ton, and  then  the  skeleton  shall  give 
place  to  the  full  grown  body.  This 
body  will  yet  have  to  be  quickened — the 
Jews  must  not  only  be  re-united  as  a 
people,  they  must  be  converted  to  the 
faith  which  they  have  long  despised,  and 
be  brought  to  the  confessing  their  cruci- 
fied Messiah.  And  this  must  be  special- 
ly the  work  of  the  Spirit  of  the  living 
God,  entering  within  them,  and  stirring 
them  from  that  moral  deadness  in  which 
they  have  lain  during  their  long  aliena- 
tion. A  separate  prophecy  is  uttered 
in  reference  to  the  coming  of  the  breath 
into  the  body ;  and  it  is  not  improbable 
that  this  assis^ninnf  different  times  to  the 
reconstruction  and  reanimation  of  the 
body,  might  be  intended  to  mark,  what 
seems  elsewhere  indicated,  that  the  Jews 
will  be  rccombined  into  a  separate  peo- 
ple, before  prevailed  on  to  acknowledge 
the  Christ;  that  it  will  not  be  until  af- 
ter their  resettlement  in  Canaan,  that 
they  will  nationally  embrace  Christianity 
Certainly,  this  is  what  seems  taught  us 
by  the  prophecies  of  Zechariah ;  for  it 
is  after  beholding  the  Jews  in  posses- 
sion of  Jerusalem  that  we  read,  "  I  will 
pour  upon  the  house  of  David,  and  up- 
on the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem,  the  spi- 
rit of  grace  and  of  supplication ;  and 
they  sliall  look  upon  me  whom  they 
have  pierced,  and  they  shall  mourn  for 
him  as  one  mourneth  for  his  only  son." 
So  that  the  conversion  of  the  people  is 
to  follow  their  restoration ;  just  as,  in 
the  vision  before  us,  the  quickening  of 


THE  RESURRECTION  OP  DRY  BONES. 


301 


the  body  by  Clod's  Sfiirit  is  quite  sepa- 
rate from  tlie  binding  of  the  bones,  and 
the  covering  them  with  flesh. 

But,  whatever  the  order  of  events, 
the  final  result  is  to  be  that  the  Jews 
shall  be  reinstated  in  Judea,  and  receive 
Jesus  as  Messiah.  The  bones  having 
been  formed  into  the  body,  and  the  body 
animated  from  above,  the  dispersed 
and  powerless  people  shall  be  "  an  ex- 
ceeding great  army,"  ready  to  wage  the 
battle  of  the  Lord  God  Almighty.  The 
valley  of  vision,  heretofore  covered  with 
the  fragments  of  a  nation  which  has  long 
ceased  to  have  a  name  amongst  king- 
doms, shall  be  crowned  with  emissaries 
from  Jerusalem,  bearing  in  their  hands 
the  cross  which  their  fathers  erected, 
and  proclaiming  the  Savior  whom  those 
fathers  denied.  We  admit  again  that,  on 
every  human  calculation,  such  result  is 
almost  incredible  ;  and  that,  though  we 
live  in  the  old  age  of  the  world,  when 
the  day  is  perhaps  not  distant  which  is 
to  witness  this  stupendous  resurrection, 
we  are  unable  to  assign  the  mode  in 
which  it  will  be  effected.  But  the 
vision  of  Ezekiel  sets  before  us  an  im- 
mediate interference  of  God,  showing 
that  there  will  be  miracle  in  the  resto- 
ration of  Israel,  as  there  would  be  in 
the  gathering  of  the  bones  with  which 
the  valley  was  strewed.  But  if  there  is 
to  be  miracle,  the  straufjeness  bring^s  no 
evidence  against  the  truth  ;  and  we  wait 
with  confidence  the  issuing  of  a  divine 
edict,  which  shall  be  heard  and  obeyed 
by  the  dispersed  seed  of  Abraham.  The 
aspect  of  the  valley  may  still  be  the 
same  as  when  Ezekiel  was  carried  thith- 
er "  in  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord."  Still, 
in  the  whole  compass  of  imagery  there 
may  be  no  more  faithfid  representation 
of  the  national  condition  of  the  Jews, 
than  that  which  sets  them  before  us  as 
the  pieces  into  which  skeletons  have 
been  shivered,  and  which  have  been  tos- 
sed over  the  globe  by  some  irresistible 
deluge.  Nevertheless  we  are  listening, 
with  the  prophet,  for  a  sound  as  of  a 
shaking  amongst  these  bones.  It  shall 
be  heard :  and  the  nations,  on  whose 
mountains,  and  in  whose  valleys,  the 
bones  are  thickly  strewn,  shall  be  start- 
led by  the  mysterious  noise.  And  when, 
as  though  actuated  by  one  uncontrolla- 
ble impulse,  the  thousands  in  every 
land  who  have  been  mixed  with  its 
population,   and   yet    not   confounded  j 


who  have  lived  under  its  laws,  and  yet 
been  aliens,  made  themselves  homes  in 
its  cities,  and  yet  been  foreigners ;  the 
remains  of  a  dead  nation,  the  wreck  of 
a  lost  state,  the  shreds  of  a  scattered 
community — when  these  shall  arise,  and 
league  themselves  to  one  purpose,  and 
pour  into  Judea,  till  the  waste  and  deso- 
late places  swai'm,  as  in  ancient  days,  with 
the  tribes  of  the  Lord — then  will  there 
be  accomplished  to  the  full  what  Ezekiel 
saw  in  strange  vision  ;  and  the  whole 
world  shall  confess  that  the  marvel  would 
not  be  exceeded,  nay,  would  only  be 
represented  as  in  a  figure,  if  piles  of 
human  bones  were  formed  suddenly  in- 
to bodies,  and  a  vast  army  sj^rang  from 
the  dust  of  the  sepulchres. 

But  we  proceed  from  considering  the 
Jews  in  their  national,  to  the  consider- 
ing them  in  their  typical  capacity.  We 
have  already  given  you  reasons  for  re- 
garding the  Jews  as  a  typical  people, 
and  which  therefore  warrant  our  search- 
ing for  truths  which  concern  the  whole 
race,  in  representations  which  primarily 
belonged  to  a  solitary  nation.  And  if 
your  minds  be  informed  on  the  great 
doctrines  of  Sci'ipture,  you  can  scarcely 
read  the  parable  without  feeling  that  it 
was  written  for  our  instruction,  that  it 
presents  as  accurate  a  picture  of  men  in 
general,  as  of  the  Jews  in  particular. 
You  know  that  the  foundation  truth  of 
the  whole  christian  system,  that  which 
is  taken  for  granted  in  every  part  of  the 
Gospel,  and  to  disprove  which  would 
be  to  disprove  the  necessity  of  a  Media- 
tor's interference,  is  the  truth  of  human 
corruption  and  helplessness.  It  would 
not  be  easy  to  exaggerate  this  truth,  to 
overstate  it  as  taught  in  holy  writ,  though 
erroneous  inferences  may  be  deduced 
from  it,  or  false  representations  given 
of  its  character.  The  important  thing 
is,  that  we  carefully  distinguish  between 
man  as  the  citizen  of  this  world,  and 
man  as  the  citizen  of  another  w'orld ; 
for  unless  such  distinction  be  kept  in 
mind,  we  may  easily  advance  statements 
in  regard  of  human  degeneracy,  which 
men  will  justly  reject  as  unfair  and  over- 
charo^ed.  So  lonsr  as  man  is  viewed  only 
as  a  member  of  society,  he  is  undoubt- 
edly capable  of  much  that  is  noble  and 
excellent;  it  were  absurd  to  make  he 
sympathies  which  he  can  display,  and 
the  virtues  which  he  can  cuUivate,  the 
subject  of  one  sweeping  and  indiscrimi- 


S02 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DRY  BONES. 


nate  censure.  If  he  did  not  belong  to 
two  worlds;  if  he  owed  everything  to 
his  fellow-creatures,  and  nothing  to  his 
Creator;  we  should  be  met,  on  all  hands, 
by  fine  instances  of  what  is  generous, 
and  upright,  and  amiable,  which  would 
tell  strongly  against  our  theory  of  the 
corruption  of  nature,  and  almost  force 
us  to  confess  that  man  cannot  be  "  very 
far  gone  from  original  righteousness." 
But  when  you  survey  the  human  race  in 
relation  to  its  Maker,  then  it  is  that  the 
conuption  may  be  proved  radical  and 
total.  You  will  not  find  that  those  who 
are  most  exemplary  in  the  discharge  of 
relative  duties,  and  whose  conduct,  in 
all  the  intercourses  of  life,  wins  the  most 
of  respect  and  admiration,  are  by  nature 
one  jot  more  disposed  to  love  God,  and 
recognize  his  authority,  than  the  openly 
dissolute.  There  are  the  very  widest 
differences  between  men,  regai-ded  as 
members  of  society;  there  is  a  thorough 
uniformity  amongst  them,  if  you  judge 
by  aversion  from  God,  and  determina- 
tion to  sacrifice  the  eternal  for  the  tem- 
poral. If  they  belonged  to  this  world 
alone,  they  could  not  be  proved  totally 
and  equally  corrupt :  for  this  would  be 
to  deny  that  lovely  things,  and  things  of 
good  report,  yet  linger  amid  the  ruins 
of  humanity.  But  forasmuch  as  they 
belong  also  to  another  world,  and  have 
obligations  laid  on  them  by  their  relation 
to  their  Maker,  tbe  corruption  may  be 
demonstrated  without  the  slightest  ex- 
ception ;  for  you  cannot  find  the  solitary 
instance  of  a  man  who  has  by  nature  any 
love  of  God,  or  any  hatred  of  sin,  or  any 
desire  after  holiness.  This,  as  we  be- 
lieve, is  the  fair  statement  of  the  doc- 
trine of  human  depravity — a  depravity 
which  does  not  prevent  the  play  of  much 
that  is  amiable,  and  the  circulation  of 
much  that  is  estimable,  between  man  and 
man  ;  but,  in  consequence  (jf  which,  all 
men  are  alike  indisposed  to  the  having 
God  in  their  thoughts,  and  alike  in- 
capacitated for  seeking  his  favor. 

And  when  the  Bible  would  set  this 
doctrine  before  us,  it  employs  undoubt- 
edly strong  figures  •  but  not  stronger,  if 
the  case  be  examined,  than  are  warrant- 
ed by  the  facts.  Thus,  as  you  are  ail 
aware,  there  is  no  more  common  lepre- 
sentation  than  one  which  siip{)oscs  men 
in  a  state  of  death,  morally  dead  and 
therefore  totally  discjualified  for  the 
functions  of  spiritual  life.     We  may  ad- 


mit that  this  looks,  at  first  sight,  like  an 
overcharged  representation ;  and  men 
accordingly  are  very  loth  to  allow  its 
correctness.  They  know  that  the  soul 
has  vast  powers  and  capacities,  and  that 
she  can  exert  herself  mightily  in  investi- 
gating truth.  They  know  also  that  the 
faculties  and  feelings  of  the  inner  man 
are  far  enough  from  torpid,  but  possess 
much  of  vital  energy.  Hence  they  see 
not  how,  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  any 
more  than  in  a  physical,  men  can  justly 
be  called  dead ;  and  they  suppose,  that  in 
this  instance  at  least,  the  figurative  lan- 
guage of  Scripture  is  to  be  explained 
with  many  deductions  and  allowances. 
But  we  are  scarcely  disposed  to  admit 
that  the  language  is  in  this  case  figurative 
at  all.  We  believe  that  the  soul,  con- 
sidered relatively  to  that  other  world  to 
which  she  rightly  belongs,  betrays  pre- 
cisely that  insensibility,  and  that  inca- 
pacity of  action,  which  characterize  a 
dead  body,  in  reference  to  the  world  of 
matter  by  which  it  is  surrounded.  If 
the  body  be  reckoned  dead,  because  it 
can  no  longer  see,  nor  hear,  nor  speak, 
nor  move,  there  are  the  same  reasons 
why  the  soul,  in  her  natural  state,  should 
be  reckoned  dead ;  for  she  lias  no  eye 
for  the  light  of  heaven,  no  ear  for  its 
melodies,  no  taste  for  its  pleasures,  and 
no  energy  for  its  occupations.  The  soul 
is  as  insensible  and  powerless  with  re- 
gard to  the  world  of  spirit,  as  the  dead 
body  with  regard  to  that  of  matter ;  why 
then  should  we  not  use  the  same  lan- 
guage, and  declare  the  soul  dead ;  and 
that  too  with  no  more  of  ^.  figure  of 
speech  than  when  the  term  is  applied  to 
tho  inanimate  corpse  1  The  soul  may 
be  quite  alive,  so  far  as  this  earth  is 
concerned,  for  she  may  be  able  to  seek 
with  the  greatest  ardor  whatever  it  can 
offer,  and  nevertheless  be  quite  dead,  so 
far  as  heaven  is  concerned,  for  she  may 
be  totally  incapable  of  either  pursuing 
or  desiring  what  is  invisible  and  eternal 
And  hence  we  conclude  that  the  repre- 
sentintj  unconverted  men  as  "dead  in 
trespasses  and  sins,"  is  not  the  drawmg 
an  overharsh.  or  exaggerated  picture, 
but  rather  the  delineating,  with  great 
faithfulness,  that  depravity  of  our  nature 
which  was  a  consequence  on  Adam's 
transgression.  This  depravity  is  total 
when  men  are  viewed  relatively  to  God, 
wliatever  it  may  be  when  you  consider 
them  in  the  relationships  of  life ;  so  thai 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DRY  BONES. 


303 


they  are  dead  in  regard  of  their  immor- 
tality, however  alive  as  citizens  of  earth. 
Let  then  the  world  be  surveyed  by 
one  who  knows  and  feels  that  men  are 
destined  for  eternity,  and  what  aspect 
will  it  wear  if  not  that  of  the  valley  of 
vision,through  which  the  jirophet  Ezekiel 
was  commissioned  to  pass  1  On  all 
sides  are  the  remains  of  mighty  beings, 
born  for  immortality,  but  dislocated  by 
sin.  Can  these  be  men,  creatures  fash- 
ioned after  the  image  of  God,  and  con- 
structed to  share  his  eternity]  What 
disease  hath  been  here,  eating  away  the 
spiritual  sinew,  and  consuming  the  spir- 
itual substance,  so  that  the  race  which 
walked  gloriously  erect  in  the  free  light 
of  heaven,  and  could  hold  communion 
with  angels,  hath  wasted  down  into 
moral  skeletons,  yea,  disjointed  frag- 
ments, from  which  we  may  just  guess  its 
origin,  whilst  they  publish  its  ruin  1  It 
is  not  that  men  are  the  spectres,  the 
ghosts,  of  what  they  were,  as  made  in 
the  hkeness  of  God,  and  with  powers  for 
intercourse  with  what  is  loftiest  in  the 
universe.  They  have  gone  beyond  this. 
It  is  in  their  spiritual  and  deathless  part 
that  they  have  become  material  and  life- 
less :  it  is  the  soul  from  which  the  breath 
of  heaven  has  been  taken  :  and  the  soul, 
deprived  of  this  breath,  seemed  turned 
into  a  thing  of  earth,  as  though  com- 
pounded, like  the  body,  of  dust ;  and 
dwindled  away  till  its  fibres  were  shriv- 
elled and  snapped,  and  its  powers  lay 
scattered  and  enervated,  like  bones 
where  tlie  war  has  raged  and  the  winds 
have  swept.  It  may  indeed  seem  like 
ascribing  what  is  corporeal  to  spirit,  and 
forgetting  the  very  nature  of  the  soul, 
thus  to  speak  of  man's  imperishable 
part,  as  we  would  of  his  body  when  re- 
solved into  its  elements.  But  the  very 
thing  of  which  we  accuse  man,  is  that, 
by  his  apostacy,  he  has  assimilated  the 
soul  to  the  body ;  he  has  so  buried  the 
immaterial  in  the  material,  the  half  deity 
in  the  half  dust,  that  we  know  him  not 
as  the  compound  of  the  ethereal  and  the 
earthly,  but  as  all  flesh,  just  as  though 
the  mortal  had  crushed  and  extinguished 
the  very  principle  of  immortality.  And, 
therefore,  do  we  describe  him,  in  his 
moral  capacity,  by  terms  which,  in  their 
strict  import,  apply  to  him  only  as  form- 
ed out  of  matter  :  "  a  spirit,"  said  Christ, 
"  hath  not  flesh  and  blood  ;  "  but  never- 
theless we  may  speak  of  the  soul  as  wast- 


ed into  a  skeleton,  and  then  of  that 
skeleton  as  broken  into  fragments,  be- 
cause it  may  bo  declared  of  the  whole 
man,  that  he  "  is  of  the  earth,  earthy,"  that 
he  has  become,  in  his  every  respect,  as 
though  made  of  the  corruptible,  and  re- 
solvable into  it. 

Wc  declare  then  again,  that,  if  this 
globe  be  taken  as  the  valley  of  vision,  it 
is  strewed  with  bones,  as  though  count- 
less annies  had  been  slain,  and  their 
bodies  left  unburied.  We  declare  of  any 
narrow  section  of  this  valley,  which  God 
may  set  us  specially  to  observe,  that,  if 
not  filled  with  the  remains  of  slaughtered 
thousands,  it  is  occupied  by  souls  "dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins ; "  that  there  are, 
on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left,  ener- 
vated powers,  and  torpid  energies,  and 
extinguished  affections,  which  belonged 
originally  to  an  immortal  spii-it,  but 
which  now  serve  only  to  remind  us  of 
such  a  spirit,  as  the  confused  relics  in  a 
charnel-house  can  but  remind  us  of  the 
human  form.  Ay,  if  the  Spirit  of  the 
living  God  wej'e  to  enable  us  to  inspect 
this  assembly,  as  it  enabled  the  prophet 
to  take  the  survey  of  the  valley,  we  know 
that  we  should  find  in  it,  spiritually  con- 
sidered, a  vast  mass  of  wasted  strength, 
and  withered  fibre,  and  broken  muscle  ; 
evidences  as  irresistible  of  souls  that 
have  long  lain  dead,  as  were  the  bones 
which  had  no  flesh  without  and  no  mar- 
row within,  of  bodies  long  since  decom- 
posed and  dissolved.  We  know  that, 
with  all  that  elasticity  and  activity  which 
the  unconverted  amongst  you  can  dis- 
play, when  the  objects  of  sense  solicit 
their  pursuit,  we  should  find  every  facul- 
ty so  benumbed,  and  every  capacity  so 
closed,  in  regard  to  the  high  things  of 
eternity,  that  we  should  be  as  much 
forced  to  pronounce  them  the  mere  skel- 
etons of  immortal  beings,  as  to  proclaim 
them  only  the  fragments  of  men,  were 
we  to  see  what  might  be  left  from  the 
gnawings  of  the  grave.  And,  if  we  had 
nothing  to  judge  by  but  the  apparent 
probability,  so  little  ground  would  there 
be  for  expecting  the  resurrection  of 
these  souls,  and  their  re-endowment  with 
the  departed  vitality,  that  if,  after  wan- 
dering to  and  fro  through  the  valley,  and 
mourning  over  the  ruins  of  what  had 
been  created  magnificent  and  enduring, 
there  should  come  to  us,  as  to  the  pro- 
phet, the  voice  of  the  Almighty,  "Son 
of  man,   can   these   bones   live  1 "    our 


304 


THE  RESURECTION  OF  DRY  BONES. 


answer  could  be  only  the  meek  confes- 
sion of  ignorance,  "O  Lord  God  thou 
knowest." 

But  we  go  on  to  observe  that  the  par- 
able is  not  more  accurate,  as  delineating 
our  condition  by  nature,  than  as  exhibit- 
ing the  posibility  of  a  restoration  to  life. 
It  might  have  seemed  a  hopeless  and  use- 
less thing,  that  Ezekiel  should  prophesy 
to  the  dry  bones  in  the  valley  ;  and  if 
the  souls  which  we  desire  to  convert,  be, 
as  we  have  described  them,  actually 
dead,  it  may  appear  a  vain  thing  to 
preach,  and  thus  to  deal  with  them  as 
though  they  were  the  living.  But  the 
prophet  did  not  hesitate ;  his  commis- 
sion was  clear ;  and  he  allowed  not  un- 
belief to  withhold  him  from  addressing 
the  inanimate  piles  by  which  he  was  sur- 
rounded. Neither  are  we  to  be  deter- 
red by  the  lifelessness  of  the  parties  on 
whom  we  have  to  act;  the  command  is 
positive ;  we  are  to  preach  the  Gospel 
to  those  of  whom  we  believe  that  they 
are  spiritually  in  the  grave,  and  to  say 
to  them,  without  any  wavering  because 
they  seem  unable  to  hear,  "Awake,  thou 
that  sleepest,  and  arise  from  the  dead, 
and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light."  And 
we  bless  God  that,  however  weak  and 
inefficient,  to  all  appearance,  the  instru- 
mentality employed,  there  is  often  the 
same  result  as  followed  the  prophesying 
of  Ezekiel;  as  the  dry  bones  were  stir- 
red, so  ai'e  the  dead  souls  also  startled. 
It  Cometh  frequently  to  pass,  more  fre- 
quently, it  may  be,  than  shall  be  known 
till  all  seorets  are  laid  bare  at  the  great 
day  of  judgment,  that,  when  the  minis- 
ter of  Christ  is  launching  the  thunders 
of  the  word,  or  dilating,  with  all  persua- 
siveness, on  the  provision  which  has 
been  made  for  the  repentant,  a  sound  is 
heard,  if  not  by  men,  yet  by  the  attendant 
angels  who  throng  our  sanctuaries  ;  the 
sound  of  an  agitated  spirit,  moving  in 
its  grave-clothes,  as  though  the  ccild  re- 
lics were  mysteriously  perturbed.  The 
prophesying  goes  on  in  the  valley  of 
vision ;  and  there  is  a  shaking  amongst 
the  bones,  as  close  a[)peals  are  made  to 
the  long  torpid  conscience,  and  the  mo- 
tives of  an  aftei"  state  of  being  are 
brought  to  bear  upon  tliose  who  are 
dead  in  their  sins.  And  llien  may  it  be 
said  that  b(Mie  cometii  unto  bone — the 
different  faculties  of  the  soul,  which  have 
herctofoi-e  been  disjoinli;<l  and  dis])crsed, 
combining  into  one  resolve  and  elibrt  to 


repent  and  forsake  sin — and  that  sinews 
and  flesh  knit  together,  and  clothe  the 
bones,  the  various  powers  of  the  innei 
man  being  each  roused  to  its  due  work; 
so  that,  as  there  appeared  before  the 
prophet  the  complete  human  body  in  ex- 
change for  the  broken  skeleton,  we  have 
now  a  spirit  stung  with  the  conscious- 
ness of  its  immortality,  where  we  had 
before  the  undying  without  sign  of  ani- 
mation. 

But  this  is  not  enough.  There  may 
bo  conviction  of  sin,  and  a  sense  of  the 
necessity  that  some  great  endeavor  be 
made  to  secure  its  forgiveness  ;  and  thus 
may  the  soul,  no  longer  resolved  into  in- 
efficient fiagments,  be  bound  together 
as  the  heir  of  eternity ;  yet  there  may 
not  be  spiritual  life,  for  the  soul  may  not 
have  been  quickened  with  the  breath 
which  is  from  heaven.  There  is  a  great 
difference  between  the  man  who  is  not 
caring  for  salvation  at  all,  and  another 
who  has  been  stirred  to  anxiety,  but 
nevertheless  has  not  submitted  himself 
to  the  teachings  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
The  former  has  only  the  skeleton,  the 
naked  and  broken  frame-work  of  a 
soul ;  whereas  in  the  latter  there  has 
been  the  compacting  and  clothing  the 
anatomy.  Yet  the  one  may  not  have 
spiritual  life  any  more  than  the  other. 
He  may  execute  some  of  the  motions  of 
a  living  thing,  and  not  be  actually  resus- 
citated ;  as  such  a  power  as  galvanism 
might  have  caused  the  limbs  of  the 
bodies,  which  thronged  suddenly  the  val- 
ley of  vision,  to  stir  as  with  life,  though 
there  had  been  no  vital  principle.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  parable  docs  not  end  with 
the  formation  of  the  perfect  body,  figur- 
ative as  that  was  of  the  reconstruction 
of  the  soul  into  a  being  aware  of  its  im- 
mortality ;  it  proceeds  to  the  animating 
the  body,  and  thus  to  the  representing 
the  quickening  of  the  soul.  The  pro- 
phet is  commanded  to  prophesy  unto  the 
wind,  and  then  breath  comes  into  the 
bodies  which  he  had  seen  succeed  the 
scattered  bones.  This  part  of  the  para- 
ble is  expressly  interpreted  as  denoting 
the  entrance  of  God's  Spirit  into  the 
house  of  Israel,  that  they  might  live  ;  and 
we  therefore  learn  the  important  truth, 
that,  whatever  the  advances  which  may 
be  made  towards  the  symmetry  and  fea- 
tures of  a  new  creature,  there  is  nothing 
that  can  be  called  life,  until  the  Holy- 
Ghost  come  and  breathe  upon  the  slain. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DRY  BONES. 


305 


And  we  have  to  bless  God  that,  in  this 
part  also,  the  vision  is  continually  re- 
ceiving- its  accomplislfment.  We  preach 
the  word  unto  these  bones  ;  we  say  un- 
to them,  "  O  ye  dry  bones,  hear  the  word 
of  the  Lord  !  "  We  preach  it  in  the  be- 
lief, that,  though  there  seem  no  organ 
of  hearing,  God  can  procure  it  admission 
where  he  designs  it  to  be  effectual ;  and 
accordingly  there  is  often,  as  we  have 
told  you,  a  shaking  amongst  the  bones  ; 
and  souls  which  had  heretofore  seemed 
sepulchred  in  matter,  arise  as  if  elastic 
with  immortality,  and  eagerly  inquire, 
"  What  must  we  do  to  be  saved  1 "  But 
this  is  not  necessarily  conversion ;  this 
may  be  only  conviction ;  after  a  few 
strug-glings  and  heavings,  what  we  had 
looked  upon  as  revived  may  relapse  into 
insensibility.  It  would  do  so,  if  the  Spi- 
rit of  the  living  God  were  not  to  enter  as 
the  breath  of  the  soul.  But  it  does  thus 
enter;  and  the  "dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins"  stand  upon  their  feet,  and  "run 
with  patience  tlie  race  set  before  them." 
It  is  the  special  office  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
to  open  the  graves  in  which  sinners  lie, 
and  to  animate  the  moral  corpse,  so  that 
the  dead  are  "  born  again."  There 
would  be  no  use  in  our  prophesying  up- 
on the  bones,  if  there  were  not  this  di- 
vine agent  to  revivify  the  buried  :  we 
might  indeed  go  down  into  the  sepul- 
chres, and  and  gather  together  the 
mouldering  remains  of  humanity,  and 
compound  tliem  into  a  body,  and  then, 
as  by  the  strange  power  of  electricity, 
work  the  limbs  into  a  brief  and  fearful 
imitation  of  the  living  thing  :  but  the  ac- 
tive and  persevering  wrestler  for  the 
prizes  of  eternity,  oh  !  the  Spirit  of  God 
must  be  in  every  member  of  this  crea- 
ture, and  in  every  nerve,  and  in  every 
muscle ;  and  let  that  Spirit  only  be  tak- 
en from  him,  and  presently  would  you 
observe  a  torpor  creeping  over  his  frame, 
and  all  the  tokens  of  moral  death  suc- 
ceeding to  the  fine  play  of  the  pulses  of 
moral  life. 

To  the  Spirit,  then,  of  God  we  refer  ex- 
clusively that  work  of  resuscitating  dead 
tsouls,  which  was  represented  in  vision 
to  the  prophet  Ezekiel.  We  say  to  every 
one  of  you,  that,  if  he  have  not  this  spirit, 
it  is  not  his  being  awake  to  the  fact  of 
his  having  a  soul,  it  is  not  his  admission 
of  a  system  of  orthodox  divinity,  it  is 
not  his  membership  with  an  apostolical 
church,  it  is  not  his  diligent  performance 


of  a  certain  set  of  duties,  which  can  as- 
sure us  that  ho  lives — we  read  in  tho 
book  of  Revelation  of  some  who  had  a 
name  that  they  lived,  and  yet  were  dead 
— all  this  may  prove  nothing  more  than 
the  binding  of  bone  to  bone,  and  the 
covering  them  with  flesh,  so  that  the 
ghastliness  of  the  skeletoJi  has  been  ex- 
changed for  the  comeliness  of  ti)e  per- 
fect body.  Unless  you  are  actuated  by 
the  Holy  Ghost  as  your  vital  principle, 
feeling  and  obeying  his  motions,  depend- 
ing on  his  influences,  laboring  in  his 
strength,  we  are  bound  to  tell  you  that 
you  are  duped  by  the  worst  jugglery 
ever  practised  on  a  rational  creature; 
the  dead  is  made  to  pass  for  the  living, 
and  the  fantastic  movements  of  an  im- 
age are  mistaken  for  the  free  soarings 
of  an  intelligent  being. 

But  there  is  one  respect  in  which  the 
vision,  as  thus  interpreted,  appears  not 
to  be  thoroughly  accomplished.  We 
carry  on  our  prophesying  over  the 
heaps  of  dry  bones  ;  and  now  and  then 
there  may  be  produced  the  effects  of 
which  we  have  spoken  :  a  solitary  sin- 
ner arises  from  his  lethargy,  and  sets 
himself  to  the  working  out  salvation. 
But  what  is  there  in  any  one  district  of 
the  valley  ;  nay,  what  is  there  in  the 
combined  districts  of  the  valley,  sup* 
posing  that  valley  to  include  the  whole 
earth,  which  answers  to  the  starting  up 
of  "  an  exceeding  great  army  1 "  In  the 
valley  which  Ezekiel  traversed,  such 
was  the  result  of  his  prophesying.  On 
the  right  hand  and  on  the  left,  before 
and  behind,  the  bones  stirred  as  if  in- 
stinct with  life,  and  the  seer  was  quick- 
ly encompassed  by  rank  upon  rank  of 
the  children  of  the  resurrection.  What 
would  be  the  parallel  to  this,  if,  at  this 
moment,  and  in  this  place,  the  parable 
were  to  be  spiritually  fulfilled  ?  It  would 
be,  that,  if  there  be  still  amongst  you  the 
tens,  or  the  fifties,  or  the  hundreds,  of 
souls  sepulchred  in  flesh,  these  tens,  or 
these  fifties,  f)r  these  hundreds,  would 
be  roused  by  the  announcement  of  wrath 
to  come,  and  spring  into  conscioi;snes3 
that  they  have  been  born  for  eternity  ; 
so  that,  however,  at  the  commencement 
of  our  worshipping,  the  dry  bones  had 
been  scattered  profusely  amongst  us, 
at  its  close  the  whole  assembly  would 
be  one  mass  of  life,  and  no  individual 
would  depart,  as  he  came,  "  dead  in 
trespasses  and  sins."  It  would  be — we 
39 


306 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DRY  BONES, 


dare  not  expect  so  mighty  a  resuscita- 
tion, and  yet  clays  shall  come  when  even 
nations  shall  be  "  born  In  a  day," — that 
whatsoever  Is  human  within  these  walls 
would  bear  traces  of  a  new  creation, 
and  man,  woman,  child,  be  "  alive  unto 
God  "  through  Clirist  Jesus  their  Lord. 
And  if  the  sj)irltual  fulfihnent  were  ef- 
fected throughout  the  whole  valley  of 
vision,  we  should  be  living  beneath  the 
millennial  dispensation,  in  that  blessed 
season  when  all  are  to  know  the  Lord 
•'  from  the  least  to  the  greatest,"  and  the 
knowledge  of  his  glory  is  to  fill  the  earth, 
"  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea."  In  ex- 
change for  the  millions  who  now  sit  in 
darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death,  buried 
in  superstition  and  ignorance,  we  should 
have  the  universal  population  of  this 
globe  rejoicing  in  acquaintance  with 
Christ,  and  bringing  forth  the  fruits  of 
righteousness  to  his  praise.  And  what 
though  the  valley  be  still  full  of  dry 
bones,  life  having  only  here  and  there 
entered  into  the  funeral  piles  ]  a  thou- 
sand prophecies  centre  in  the  future,  all 
assuring  us  of  a  spiritual  resurrection, 
general  as  will  be  that,  when  sea,  and 
mountain,  and  desert  shall  give  up  their 
dead.  It  seems  the  representation  of 
these  prophecies,  that  Christianity  shall 
rot  advance,  by  successive  steps,  to  uni- 
versal dominion,  but  that  a  time  of  great 
depression,  yea,  almost  of  extinction, 
ehall  immediately  precede  that  of  un- 
limited sovereignty.  When  Isaiah  calls 
to  the  prostrate  Jerusalem,  "  Arise, 
shine,  for  thy  light  Is  come,"  he  adds, 
"  Behold,  the  darkness  shall  cover  the 
earth,  and  gross  darkness  the  people  " 
— thus  intimating,  that,  at  the  very  mo- 
ment of  the  restitution  of  all  things,  a 
deeper  than  the  ordinary  night  shall 
rest  on  the  nations  of  the  world.  And, 
therefore,  may  it  be  that  the  aspect  of 
the  globe,  as  the  day  draws  on  of  its 
glorious  renovation,  will  be  more  than 
ever  that  of  the  valley  of  vision,  ere  the 
prophesying  comnnenced,  and  the  skele- 
tons moved,  Ezeklel  miglit  be  brought 
from  his  rest,  and  set  down  in  the  midst 
of  the  valley  ;  and  he  would  still  have 
to  say  th;it  the  bones  were  very  many, 
and  very  dry.  l>ut  the  Lord's  arm  will 
not  be  "  shortened  that  it  cannot  save  :" 
suddenly,  when  there  might  appear  least 
likelihood  (jf  a  shaking  anKjrigst  the 
countless  hcaj)3,  shall  a  vivifying  energy 
go    out    through     the    length    and    the 


breadth  of  the  slain  population.  •'  The 
dead  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of 
man,  and  they  that  hear  shall  live," 
Every  where  shall  the  process  be  rapid- 
ly carried  on  of  the  bones  being  combin- 
ed into  the  skeleton,  and  covered  with 
the  flesh,  and  animated  by  the  Spirit, 
till  the  whole  earth  shall  ring  with  the 
tread  of  the  "exceeding  great  army," 
This  will  be  the  perfect  accomplish- 
ment of  the  prophetic  vision.  When 
every  nation,  and  tribe,  and  tongue,  shall 
have  cast  its  idols  "  to  the  moles  and  to 
the  bats  ;"  when  the  religion  of  Christ 
shall  have  extirpated  every  superstition, 
and  shrined  itself  in  every  heart ;  then 
shall  there  be  a  moral  resurrection  com- 
mensurate with  the  marvellous  quicken- 
ing of  the  dead  on  which  Ezeklel  gazed  : 
the  spiritual  sepulchres  will  be  emptied, 
and  the  almost  quenched  immortality 
be  every  where  re-illumlned. 

Yet  though  the  parable,  when  moral- 
ly Interpreted,  be  thus  now  receiving  a 
partial,  and  expecting  a  plenary,  ac- 
complishment, who  can  doubt,  that,  in 
its  literal  Import,  it  had  respect  to  that 
resurrection  of  the  dead  which  will  pre- 
cede the  general  judgment  1  We  re- 
gard the  parable  as  one  of  those  few 
portions  of  the  Old  Testament  from 
which  might  be  Inferred  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  body.  The  Illustrating  by 
the  Imagery  of  a  resurrection,  was  al- 
most the  inculcating  the  doctrine  of  a 
resurrection.  And,  whether  thus  un- 
derstood or  not  by  the  Jews,  we  may 
safely  affirm  that,  to  ourselves,  the  whole 
transaction  in  the  valley  of  vision  should 
present,  under  figures  of  extraordinary 
energy,  man's  final  coming  up  from  the 
dust  of  the  earth.  The  trumpet  of  the 
archangel  shall  prophesy  over  the  dry 
bones  :  its  piercing  blast  shall  say,  "O 
ye  dry  bones,  hear  the  word  of  the  Lord," 
Who  can  tell  the  shaking  that  shall  fol- 
low this  piophecy — the  earth  heaving i 
at  its  very  core,  that  myriads  upon  my- 
riads may  bui'st  from  its  womb  1  Then 
shall  be  the  coming  of  bone  unto  bone  : 
mysterious  announcement!  the  dust  shall 
seek  its  kindred  dust;  and  though  the 
elements  of  the  body  may  have  been 
dispersed  to  the  four  quarters  of  the 
earth,  yet  will  they  reassemble,  so  that 
every  man  shall  have  his  own.  And 
then  shall  there  be  a  prophesying  to  the 
souls  in  the  separate  state,  as  well  as  to 
the  bones  in  the  sepulchres.     The  souls 


PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPERY. 


307 


fihall  know  that  the  moment  of  reunion 
has  arrived,  and  rush  down  to  possess 
their  reconstructed  tabernacles.  Then, 
when  the  whole  man  lives  again,  and 
the  buried  generations,  from  Adam  to 
the  last-born  of  his  line,  have  put  on 
immortality, "  the  exceeding  great  army  " 
shall  march  to  judgment.  We  cannot 
follow  them — the  eye  is  blinded  by  the 
interminable  multitude,  and  the  ear 
deafened  by  the  tramp  of  the  countless 
milhons.  But  we  shall  be  there,  every 
one  of  us  shall  be  there,  to  augment 
the  crowd,  and  swell  the  thunder.  O 
God,  breathe  now  on  the  dry  bones,  that 
none  of  us  be  hereafter  amongst  those 


who  shall  awake  "  to  shame  and  ever- 
lasting contempt."  Again  and  again  we 
prophesy  upon  the  dry  bones.  We  are 
not  deterred  by  the  apparent  hopeless- 
ness. We  have  often  prophesied  in  vain. 
There  has  been  no  shaking  amongst  the 
bones.  Numbers  have  come  unconver- 
ted, and  numbers  have  gone  away  un- 
converted. But  we  will  execute  our 
commission  once  more,  and  O  that  this 
time  it  may  startle  and  agitate  the  dead. 
— "  let  the  wicked  forsake  his  way,  and 
the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts,  and 
let  him  return  unto  the  Lord ;  and  he 
will  have  mercy  upon  him ;  and  to  our 
God,  for  he  will  abundantly  pardon." 


SERMON    IV. 


PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPERY. 


"  If  it  be  possible,  as  much  as  lieth  in  you,  live  peaceably  with  all  men."— Romans  JCII.  18. 


In  one  of  those  touching  addresses 
which  Christ  delivered  to  his  disciples 
shortly  before  his  crucifixion,  he  be- 
queathed them,  as  you  will  remember, 
the  legacy  of  peace.  "  Peace  I  leave 
with  you;  my  peace  I  give  unto  you  : 
not  as  the  world  giveth,  give  I  unto 
you."  It  is  observable  that  the  peace, 
thus  left  us  by  Christ,  is  emphatically 
his  peace  ;  "  my  peace  I  give  unto  you  " 
— and  accordingly,  we  have  a  petition 
in  our  litany,  "  O  Lamb  of  God,  that 
takest  away  the  sins  of  the  world,  grant 
us  thy  peace."  Though  bearing  the  title 
of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  we  know  that 
Christ  said  in  regard  of  himself,  "  Think 
not  that  I  am  come  to  send  peace  on  the 
earth  ;  I  am  not  come  to  send  peace,  but 
a  sword."  Hence  it  may  be  inferred 
that  fne  peace,  which   may   be   called 


Christ's  peace,  that  which  Christ  be- 
queathed and  for  which  we  pray,  is  not 
a  peace  which  is  necessarily  to  banish 
all  divisions,  but  which  is  rather  to  sub- 
sist in  the  midst  of  divisions.  The  peace 
which  Christ  enjoyed  as  the  founder  of 
Christianity,  and  which  he  may  be  re- 
garded as  intending  when  he  spake  of 
his  peace,  resulted  from  a  consciousness 
that  he  was  doing  the  will  of  God,  and 
promoting  the  good  of  man.  It  was  an 
internal  rather  than  an  external  peace  : 
for  without  were  wars  and  fightings, 
the  opposition  of  avowed  enemies,  and 
the  coldness  and  suspicion  even  of 
friends.  His  peace,  therefore,  was  not 
peace  wnth  those  around.  There  was 
charity,  full  and  fervent  charity,  towards 
men  most  vehement  in  their  enmity ; 
but,  at  the  same  time,  there  was  an  un 


308 


PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPERY. 


flinching  exposure  of  their  faults,  and  a 
determined  opposition  to  their  practices. 
We  may  safely  declare  of  Christ,  that 
he  never  purchased  peace  by  any  thing 
like  compromise.  Though  his  heart 
overflowed  with  love  towards  the  whole 
human  race,  he  was  far  from  being  in- 
dulgent to  their  sins  ;  on  the  contrary, 
he  was  too  much  their  friend  to  be  any 
thing  but  the  stern  reprover  of  their 
vices.  Hence  he  had  peace  of  con- 
science, rather  than  of  condition  :  he  in- 
deed desired,  and  labored  f(jr  both  ;  but 
living  in  the  midst  of  a  sinful  and  per- 
verse generation,  he  could  not  be  at 
peace  with  mankind,  save  by  leaving 
them  unrebuked  ;  and  this  would  have 
been  to  purchase  quiet  by  neglect- 
ing duty.  The  church,  therefore,  may 
thoi-oughly  possess  the  legacy  of  peace 
bequeathed  to  her  by  Christ,  and  yet 
have  no  concord  with  the  great  mass  of 
men.  It  may  even  be  bound  on  her  to 
do  much  by  which,  to  all  appearance, 
divisions  will  be  fomented  :  for  if  she 
would  imitate  Christ,  and  thus  enjoy  his 
peace,  she  must  be  bold  in  denouncing 
every  error,  and  never  think  that  true 
brotherhood  can  be  maintained  by  com- 
promising principles.  It  is  unquestion- 
ably her  business  to  follow  after  the 
things  "  that  make  for  peace  ;"  but  she 
is  to  take  special  care,  lest,  in  her  eager- 
ness to  prevent  discord,  she  surrender 
truth,  and  ward  off  separations  by  un- 
warrantable sacrifices. 

Now  the  words  of  oui-  text  may  be 
said  to  contemplate  exactly  that  peace 
which  may  thus  be  regarded  as  be- 
queathed to  us  by  Christ.  The  apostle 
enjoins  as  a  duty,  that  we  strive  to 
live  peaceably  with  all ;  but  plainly  in- 
timates that  it  would  be  difficult  to  do 
so,  or  perhaps  even  impossible.  He  in- 
troduces two  restrictive  clauses,  "  if  it 
be  possible,"  and  "  as  much  as  lieth  in 
you :"  the  latter  implying  that  there 
were  cases  in  which  it  would  be  a  chris- 
tian's own  fault  if  disunion  ensued  ;  the 
former,  that,  probably,  no  amount  of 
diligence  and  care  could  insure  the  uni- 
versal harmony.  It  would  seem,  indeed, 
from  the  context;  of  the  verse,  that  St. 
Paul  refers  not  so  much  to  schisms  in 
the  visible  church,  as  to  differences  and 
quarrels  between  man  and  man.  J]ut  a 
rule,  designed  for  the;  guidance  of  chris- 
tians in  their  individual,  nnist  Ite  appli- 
cable also  in  their  collective    caj)acily. 


If  it  be  the  duty  of  every  member  of  the 
chiu'ch,  so  far  as  in  him  lies,  to  live 
peaceably  with  others,  it  must  undoubt- 
edly be  the  duty  of  the  church,  as  a 
body,  to  do  all  in  her  power  towards 
promoting  union  and  preventing  schism. 
In  each  case,  however,  there  may  be  a 
point  at  which  separation  becomes  una- 
voidable ;  and  therefore  are  the  words, 
"if  it  be  possible,"  prefixed  to  the  pre- 
cept. In  the  instance  of  an  individual, 
the  conduct  of  others  may  be  so  injuri- 
ous and  oppressive,  that,  with  every  dis- 
position to  concede,  and  the  greatest 
patience  under  wrong,  it  may  be  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  shun  intercourse, 
and  even  to  adopt  measures  for  self-de- 
fence. In  the  instance  of  a  church,  the 
tenets  of  some  of  her  pi'ofessed  mem- 
bers may  be  so  inconsistent  with  truth, 
or  their  practice  so  opposed  to  the  Gos- 
pel, that  to  retain  them  in  her  commun- 
ion would  be  faithlessness  to  her  Master. 
Or  a  church,  in  her  collective  capacity, 
may  grievously  depart  from  the  faith 
"  once  delivered  to  the  saints  :"  she  may 
introduce  unsound  doctrines,  or  super- 
stitious observances  :  and  then  may  it 
be  the  duty  of  those  of  her  members, 
who  are  still  zealous  for  "  truth  as  it  is 
in  Jesus,"  to  protest  firmly  against  the 
abomination,  and  finally  to  dissolve  their 
union  with  that  church,  if  she  will  not 
put  from  her  the  falsehood  and  idolatry. 
The  main  thing  to  be  borne  in  mind, 
is,  as  we  have  already  intimated,  that 
j)eace  is  too  dearly  purchased,  if  pur- 
chased by  the  least  surrender  of  prin- 
ciple. That  unity  deserves  not  the 
name,  which  is  produced  by  the  reso- 
luti(jn  of  avoiding,  by  mutual  conces- 
sions, all  differences  in  opinion.  On 
points  which  arc  not  fundamental  much 
may  be  done  by  mutual  concessions  : 
and  they  must  have  much  to  answer  for, 
who  have  torn  and  divided  the  visible 
church,  when  tlie  matter  in  debate  has 
been  one  of  mere  ceremony,  or  at  least, 
one  involving  nothing  of  indispensable 
truth.  We  doubt  whether  the  mass  of 
those,  who,  in  modern  days,  have  intro- 
duced sects  and  divisions  amongst  chris- 
tians, could  prove,  in  vindication  of  their 
conduct,  that  they  had  implicitly  obey- 
ed the  direction  of  our  text.  It  might 
be  hard  to  show,  if  the  grounds  of  se- 
paration were  rigidly  examined,  that 
the  impossible  point  had  been  reached, 
1  the  point,  that  is,  at  which,  if  union  be 


PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPERY. 


309 


presei-ved,  fundamental  truth  must  be 
compromised.  It  should  then  only  be 
impossible  to  a  christian  to  live  peace- 
ably, when,  to  avoid  schism,  he  must 
tolerate  fatal  error.  And  if  separatists 
cannot  make  good  their  separation  on 
this  simple  principle,  their  failing  to  live 
peaceably  is  not  to  be  sheltered  under 
the  first  clause  of  our  text :  it  must  ra- 
ther vindicate  itself  by  the  second,  "  as 
much  as  in  you  lieth;"  and  then  there 
is  a  question  which  none  but  God  can 
decide,  how  far  the  infii-mity,  which 
caused  unnecessary  division,  was  sinful, 
and  how  far  unavoidable. 

But  whatever  may  be  determined  in 
regard  of  any  particular  case  of  an  in- 
fraction of  peace,  the  general  rule,  al- 
ready stated,  is  manifestly  correct,  that 
whatever  is  not  fundamental  should  be 
given  up  for  the  sake  of  peace;  but  that 
there  must  be  war  and  separation,  if,  in 
maintaining  peace,  we  have  to  compro- 
mise truth.  We  admit  indeed  that  there 
will  be  difficulty  in  applying  this  rule ; 
for  since  the  Bible  no  where  divides 
doctrines  into  those  which  are  fundamen- 
tal, and  those  which  are  not,  there  may 
be  difference  of  opinion  as  to  the  class 
to  which  a  certain  truth  belongs,  and 
therefore,  also  doubt  as  to  whether  it 
should  be  enforced  at  the  risk  of  a  schism. 
But  if  Scripture  have  not  made  a  divi- 
sion of  its  truths,  there  are  some  which 
manifestly  belong  to  the  very  essence 
of  Christianity ;  whilst  others,  though 
full  of  worth  and  instruction,  are  as 
manifestly  subordinate,  and  fill  a  lower 
place  in  the  christian  economy.  There 
are  points  on  which  difference  of  opin- 
ion may  be  safely  permitted,  and  others 
on  which  unanimity  is  indispensable. 
There  can,  for  example,  be  no  sufficient 
reason  for  breaking  the  bond  of  peace 
in  the  matter  of  predestination ;  the  mem- 
bers of  a  church  may  abide  in  perfect 
harmony,  though  some  hold,  and  others 
do  not,  the  doctrine  of  personal  election. 
But  if  the  debated  point  be  tlie  divinity 
of  Chi'ist,  or  the  impossibility  of  justi- 
fication except  through  his  merits,  there 
must  be  unanimity,  at  whatever  cost  ob- 
tained. Christianity  is  nothing  if  these 
points  be  denied;  and  therefore  must  a 
christian  church,  if  it  would  not  forfeit 
its  character,  separate  boldly  from  all 
by  whom  they  are  rejected. 

It  might  justly  be  expected  from  us, 
under  ordinary  circumstances,  that  we 


should  examine,  in  greater  detail,  and 
with  more  precision,  where  the  point 
lies  at  which  peace  can  be  preserved  on- 
ly by  compromising  principle.  But  the 
occasion  requires  us  to  speak  with  pe- 
culiar reference  to  popery  and  the  Eng- 
lish Reformation.  And  I,  for  one,  am 
glad  to  avail  myself  of  the  opportunity. 
I  cannot  put  away  the  persuasion,  that 
there  has  been  amongst  protestants  a 
growing  ignorance  and  indifference  with 
regai'd  to  points  in  dispute  between  the 
Reform  Church  and  the  Papal;  and  a 
strengthening  opinion  that  the  two,  after 
all,  differ  in  little  that  is  vital.  And  this 
degeneracy  of  protestanism  has  given 
encouragement  to  popery ;  so  that  the 
false  system,  against  which  our  fathers 
rose  manfully  up,  and  in.  expelling  which 
they  perilled  substance  and  life,  has  been 
putting  forth  tokens  of  strength  and  ex- 
pansion. If  this  be  true,  great  and  man- 
ifest is  the  need,  that  you  be  reminded 
of  your  privileges,  and  warned  against 
"the  man  of  sin;"  and  I  could  not  feel 
justified  in  neglecting  an  opportunity 
of  addressing  you  specifically  as  protes- 
tants. 

Now  we  have  selected  our  text  in 
preference  to  many  which  might  seem 
more  appropriate,  because  we  consider 
that  every  point,  on  which  it  is  import- 
ant that  your  minds  be  strengthened  or 
informed,  is  involved  in  the  question, 
can  we,  as  disciples  of  Christ,  live 
peaceably  with  Rome  ]  "  If  it  be  possi- 
ble," saith  the  apostle,  "as  much  as  in 
you  lieth,  live  peaceably  with  all  men." 
Apply  this  rule  to  a  church  ;  and  then, 
as  we  have  shown  you,  it  undoubtedly 
demands  that  there  be  nothing  of  schism 
or  separation,  so  long  as  principles  are 
not  sacrificed  for  the  sake  of  keeping 
peace.  It  warrants  us  in  nothing  that 
can  be  called  a  rending  of  the  visible 
church,  if  we  cannot  prove  that  we  have 
reached  the  point  at  which  union  is  no 
longer  possible  ;  at  which,  that  is,  if  un- 
ion be  preserved,  it  must  be  at  the  ex- 
pense of  conscience,  and  with  mortal  in- 
jury to  truth.  And  therefore  our  text 
requires  us,  if  we  would  vindicate  any 
separation — such,  for  instance,  as  that 
of  the  English  Church  from  the  Roman 
— to  prove,  by  most  rigid  demonstration, 
that  separation  had  become  absolutely  a 
duty  :  and  that,  if  it  had  been  avoided 
in  order  to  preserve  peace,  there  would 
have  been  a  surrender  of  the  principles 


310 


PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPERTT. 


of  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  Thus  we  are 
throwni  on  examining  the  reasons  which 
led  our  forefathers  to  break  off  commu- 
nion with  the  Roman  catliolic  church, 
and  which  justify  our  own  refusal  to 
give  to  that  church  the  right  hand  of 
fellowship.  "We  need  hardly  obsen'e 
that  these  reasons  cannot  be  expounded, 
save  by  a  statement  of  the  doctrines 
of  popery,  as  contrasted  with  those  of 
protestantism  ;  so  that,  in  proving  to  you 
that  the  Reformation  involved  no  diso- 
bedience to  the  precept  of  our  text,  we 
shall  inform  or  remind  you  of  those 
great  points  of  difference  which  separate 
between  our  own  church  and  the  paj^al. 
It  will  be  well,  however,  that  before  en- 
tering on  the  inquiry  thus  suggested,  we 
take  notice  of  the  common  accusation, 
that  we  were  guilty  of  schism  at  the 
Reformation,  and  continue  chargeable 
with  this  guilt,  so  long  as  we  return  not 
into  the  bosom  of  the  Roman  catholic 
church.  We  shall,  therefore,  make  it 
our  business  to  endeavor,  in  the  first 
place,  to  show  you  that  there  was  no 
schism,  properly  so  called,  in  our  separ- 
ation from  Rome ;  in  the  second  place, 
to  prove  to  you  that  the  separation  was 
demanded,  and  is  still  justified  by  the 
corruptions  of  Rome. 

Now  it  is  one  of  the  great  doctrines 
of  popery,  as  you  must  all  be  aware,  that 
the  pope,  who  is  the  bishop  of  the  Roman 
church,  is  the  head  also  of  the  universal 
church  of  Christ,  so  that  he  is  vested 
with  supreme  authority  over  all  bishops 
and  pastors  in  every  section  of  the  earth. 
This  pretended  supremacy  of  the  pope 
we  utterly  reject :  declaring  that  it  can 
find  no  syllable  of  vindication  in  the  Bi- 
ble, and  maintaining  it  to  be  a  modern 
and  insolent  assumption,  of  which  no 
trace  can  be  found  in  the  early  ages  of 
Christianity.  The  Bible  no  where  hints 
that  there  was  to  be  such  an  universal 
head  of  the  church  as  the  pope  professes 
to  be  :  and  centuries  elapsed  before  the 
bishops  of  Rome  discovered,  that,  as  St. 
Peter's  successors,  they  had  right  to  this 
universal  lordship.  We  contend,  there- 
fore, against  the  doctrine  of  papal  su- 
premacy as  utterly  unsanctioned,  wheth- 
er by  Scripture  or  antiquity ;  and  we 
maintain  that  the  pope  could  have  had 
no  power,  except  by  usurjjation,  over  the 
branch  of  Christ's  church  established 
in  this  land.  He  indeed  claimed  a  pow- 
er, and,  during  the  long  night  of  igno- 


rance, the  claim  was  conceded.  But  we 
utterly  deny  that  he  had  right  to  any 
power,  because  Ave  utterly  deny  that,  as 
bishop  of  Rome,  he  was  vested  with 
authority  over  other  parts  of  Christ's 
churdi.  Whatever  his  sway  in  his  OAvn 
district,  England  was  no  part  of  that  dis- 
trict; and  if  England,  in  her  ignorance, 
had  given  him  power,  England,  when 
better  taught,  did  but  justly  in  withdraw-  . 
ing  that  power.  Hence  there  was  no- 
thing which,  with  tho  least  show  of  jus- 
tice, could  be  called  schism,  in  the  separ- 
ation of  the  English  church  from  the 
Roman.  There  might  have  been  schism, 
had  the  doctrine  of  Roman  catholics  been 
true,  that  the  pope  is  the  universal  head 
of  the  church  j  for  then  would  ihe  re- 
formers have  withdrawn  an  allegiance 
which  they  were  required  to  yield,  and 
detached  themselves  from  the  visible 
body  of  Christ.  It  is  another  question, 
what  would  have  been  their  duty  under 
such  circumstances  ;  we  now  only  state 
that,  before  the  charge  of  schism,  pro- 
perly so  called,  can  be  substantiated, 
popery  must  be  proved  true,  in  the  arti- 
cle of  the  universal  headship  of  the 
pope ;  for  unless  this  be  true,  there 
could  be  nothing  schismatical  in  Eng- 
land's  refusing  to  acknowledge  any  long- 
er the  authority  of  the  Roman  bishop, 
and  re-establishing  the  supremacy  of  her 
own  king  in  all  causes,  ecclesiastical  and 
civil. 

And  Ave  need  not  say  that  we  are  not 
much  troubled  Avith  the  accusation  of 
schism,  so  long  as  it  cannot  be  made 
good  till  popery  have  been  proved  true. 
It  is  somewhat  bold  to  call  us  schismatics, 
when  the  name  takes  for  granted  what 
wc  contend  against  as  false,  that  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  includes  the 
whole  visible.  And  we  wish  you  to  ob- 
serve, that  there  Avere  no  spiritual  ties 
which  necessarily  bound  together  Eng- 
land and  Rome.  We  Avere  not  indebted 
to  Rome  for  our  Christianity.  Whatever 
may  be  thought  of  the  oj)inion  wliich  has 
been  supported  Avith  great  learning  and 
ability,  that  St.  Paul  himself  preached 
the  Gospel  in  Britain,  and  ordained  a 
bishop  here  before  there  was  any  in 
Rome ;  so  that  the  Anglican  Church 
would  be  older  than  the  Roman  ;  it  is, 
at  least,  certain  that  Christianity  made 
its  way  inti>  these  islands  at  a  very  early 
period  ;  and  that,  when  the  missionaries 
of  Rome  first  visited  our  shores,  they 


PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPERY. 


311 


found  a  c^lris^ian  church  ah-eady  estab- 
lished, a  church  whose  bishops  refused 
submission  to  the  pope,  though,  in  pro- 
cess of  time,  that  submission  was  yield- 
ed. On  what  principle,  then,  is  it  to  be 
maintained,  that  the  English  church  was 
so  integral  a  portion  of  the  Roman,  that 
there  could  be  no  separation  without  the 
guilt  of  schism  ]  The  English  church 
had  been  independent,  governed  by  its 
own  officers,  and  having  no  connection 
but  that  of  a  common  brotherhood  with 
other  parts  of  Christ's  visible  body.  And 
Rome  came  down  upon  it  in  subtility 
and  pride,  putting  forward  arrogant 
claims,  and  asking  to  be  received  as  su- 
pi'eme  in  every  ecclesiastical  cause.  The 
times  were  those  in  which  moral  dark- 
ness and  mental  were  fast  pervading  the 
earth,  and  which  therefore  favored  the 
bold  pretensions  of  ambitious  and  un- 
principled pontiffs.  And  no  marvel,  if 
England  yielded  with  the  rest  of  Chris- 
tendom ;  so  that  a  church,  founded  in 
apostolic  days,  and  owing  no  allegiance 
to  any  foreign  power,  joined  in  the  false, 
though  almost  universal,  confession,  that 
the  pope  was  the  vicegerent  of  Christ, 
endowed  with  unbounded  authority  over 
every  ecclesiastical  section. 

But  at  length  God  mercifully  interpos- 
ed, and  raised  up  men  with  power  and 
disposition  to  examine  for  themselves, 
and  with  intrepidity  to  proclaim  the  re- 
sult of  their  searchings.  In  one  country 
after  another  of  Europe  arose  those  who 
had  prayerfully  studied  the  Bible,  and 
who  were  too  zealous  for  truth,  too  warm 
lovers  both  of  God  and  of  man,  to  keep 
silent  as  to  an  assumption  which  Scrip- 
ture did  not  sanction.  And  England 
was  not  without  her  worthies  and  champ- 
ions in  this  great  and  general  struggle 
for  emancipation.  There  were  those 
amongst  her  children  who  felt  that  she 
crouched  beneath  a  yoke  which  God 
had  not  ordained,  and  who,  therefore, 
summoned  her  to  rise,  and  reassert  her 
independence.  And  when  she  hearken- 
ed to  the  call,  and  rose  up  in  the  majes- 
ty of  a  strength  which  still  commands 
our  wonder,  and  shook  from  her  the 
yoke  of  papal  oppression,  declaring  that 
the  Roman  pontiff  had  no  authority  with- 
in her  coasts — what  did  she  do  but  re- 
sume a  power  which  ought  never  to 
have  been  delegated,  and  resist  a  claim 
which  ought  never  to  have  been  admit- 
ted ]     In  the  season  of  ignorance,  when 


all  Europe  bent  to  the  spiritual  tyrant, 
she  had  made  herself  subject  to  the  bi- 
shop of  Rome ;  and,  therefore,  in  the 
season  of  greater  knowledge,  when  she 
joined  other  lands  in  daring  to  be  free, 
she  did  nothing  but  take  what  was  in- 
alienably her  own,  what  she  had  parted 
with  in  blindness,  but  what,  all  the  while, 
could  not  lawfully  be  surrendered.  We 
can  admit  then  nothing  in  her  separa- 
tion from  the  Roman  church  which  ap- 
proximates to  schism.  She  had  com- 
mitted a  grievous  error,  as  a  church,  in 
acknowledging  the  pope's  supremacy ; 
but  there  could  be  nothing  like  schism 
in  her  correcting  the  error,  and  denying 
that  supremacy.  And  there  may  be 
employed  all  the  resoui'ces  of  casuistry 
on  this  matter,  the  partisans  of  Rome 
laboring  to  brand  the  reformers  as  schis- 
matics ;  but  until  it  can  be  proved,  pro- 
ved from  Scripture  and  the  early  fathers, 
that  there  is  no  other  church  but  the 
Roman,  and  that  the  head  of  this  church 
has  been  ordained  of  God  to  be  supreme 
throughout  Christendom  in  every  eccle- 
siastical matter,  it  will  never  be  proved 
that  our  ancestors  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury would  have  been  justified  in  con- 
tinuing allegiance  to  the  pope ;  never 
therefore,  that,  in  transferring  that  allegi- 
ance to  their  own  anointed  king,  they 
were  unmindful  of  the  precept,  "  If  it  be 
possible,  live  peaceably  with  all  men." 
Now  we  have  endeavored  to  set  this 
fact  under  the  most  simple  point  of 
view,  because  it  is  easy  to  involve  it  in 
mystery  and  perplexity.  The  act,  by 
which  we  separated  from  the  church 
of  Rome,  and  by  which,  therefore,  if  by 
any,  we  are  guilty  of  schism,  was  the 
act  by  which  we  denied  that  the  j^ope 
had  any  authority  whatsoever  in  this 
kingdom.  It  was  not,  strictly  speaking, 
by  our  denouncing  image  worship,  by 
our  denying  transubstantiation,  by  our 
rejecting  the  mediation  of  angels  and 
saints,  that  we  ceased  to  be  a  part  of 
the  Roman  church  :  that  which  made 
us  a  part  of  this  church  was  the  acknow- 
ledging the  pope  as  the  ecclesiastical 
head  ;  and  that  which  dissolved  our  un- 
ion with  this  church,  was  the  refusing 
to  continue  such  acknowledgment.  Had 
the  Roman  church  been  free  from  all 
the  corruptions  to  which  we  have  refer- 
red, holding  no  erroneous  doctrine  but 
that  of  papal  supremacy,  separation 
would   still   have   been   a   duty :  there 


312 


PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPERT. 


would  Still  have  been  the  usurpation  of 
our  monarch's  power  by  the  pope,  and 
it  could  not  have  been  schism  to  restore 
that  power  to  its  right  owner. 

But  we  will  now  wave  the  question 
of  schism  :  we  have  to  examine,  in  the 
second  place,  the  chief  points  of  differ- 
ence between  the  reformed  church  and 
the  Roman,  that  you  may  be  reminded 
of  the  reasons  of  protestaiits  for  refusing 
peace  with  papists.  We  formally  separa- 
ted from  Kome,  as  we  have  just  explain- 
ed, by  refusing  to  acknowledge  the  su- 
premacy of  the  pope  :  but  it  was  chiefly 
by  rejecting  certain  doctrines  and  obser- 
vances, and  by  standing  up  for  truth  in  op- 
position to  error,  that  we  became  em- 
phatically a  reformed  church,  and  gained 
the  honorable  title  of  protestants. 

We  do  not  deny,  and  this  we  must 
state  clearly  before  entering  on  the  ei-- 
rors  of  Rome,  that  the  Roman  catholic 
church  is  a  true  and  apostolic  chui'ch — 
her  bishops  and  priests  deriving  their 
authority,  in  an  unbroken  line,  fi'om 
Chi'ist  and  his  apostles.  Accordingly, 
if  a  Roman  catholic  priest  renounce 
what  we  count  the  errors  of  popery,  our 
church  immediately  receives  him  as  one 
of  her  ministers,  requiring  no  fresh  or- 
dination before  she  will  allow  him  to 
officiate  at  her  altars,  though  she  grants 
not  the  like  privilege  to  other  claimants 
of  the  ministerial  office.  If  his  ordina- 
tion be  not,  in  every  sense,  valid,  neither 
is  our  own  :  for  if  we  have  derived  ours 
from  the  apostles,  it  has  been  through 
the  channel  of  the  Roman  catholic 
church  ;  so  that,  to  deny  the  transmis- 
sion of  authority  in  the  popish  priest- 
hood since  the  reformation,  would  be  to 
deny  it  before;  and  thus  should  we  be 
left  without  any  ordination  which  could 
be  traced  back  to  the  ajiostles.  Hence 
there  is  no  question,  that  on  the  princi- 
ples of  an  episcopal  church,  the  Roman 
catholic  is  a  true  branch  of  Christ's 
church,  however  grievously  corrupted 
and  fearfully  deformed.  It  is  a  true 
church,  inasmuch  as  its  ministers  have 
been  duly  invested  with  authority  to 
preach  the  word  and  dispense  the  sacra- 
ments :  it  is  a  true  church  moreover,  in- 
asmuch as  it  never  ceased  to  "  hold  the 
head,  which  is  Christ,"  and  to  acknow- 
ledge the  fundamental  truth  of  our  reli- 
gion, that  Jesus,  God  as  well  as  man, 
died  as  a  propitiation  for  the  sins  of  the 
world. 


And  all  this  was  distinctly  recogni- 
zed by  the  reformers  of  the  English 
church,  whatever  it  may  have  been  by 
those  of  other  countries.  They  made 
no  alteration  in  the  constitution  of  the 
church  :  they  saw  in  the  Roman  catho- 
lic church  the  true  foundation  and 
framework  of  a  church  ;  but  they  saw 
also  that  on  this  foundation  had  been 
laid,  and  into  this  framework  had  been 
woven,  many  and  gross  errors,  which 
were  calculated  to  destroy  the  souls  of 
its  members.  And  it  was  to  the  work 
of  removing  these  errors  that  they  stren- 
uously gave  themselves — not  wishing  to 
meddle  with  the  foundation,  or  to  des- 
troy the  framework ;  but  simply  to  take 
away  those  human  inventions  and  super- 
stitious observances,  beneath  which 
genuine  Christianity  was  almost  hidden, 
or  rather  almost  buried.  And  so  bless- 
ed were  they  of  God  with  singular  dis- 
cretion, as  well  as  courage,  that  they 
achieved  the  noble  result  of  a  church 
holding  all  that  is  apostolic  in  doctrine, 
without  letting  go  one  jot  of  what  is 
apostolic  in  government.  They  achiev- 
ed the  result,  the  only  result  at  which, 
as  reformers,  they  could  lawfully  aim, 
of  making  the  church,  both  in  creed  and 
in  discipline,  what  the  church  had  been 
in  primitive  times;  removing  from  it 
whatsoever  had  not  the  sanction  of 
Scripture  and  antiquity,  and  retaining 
whatsoever  had.  And  thus  there  sprang 
from  their  labors  what  might  literally 
be  called  a  reformed  church — not  a 
new  church,  as  is  more  strictly  the  name 
of  many  of  those  which  bear  the  title  of 
reformed — but  a  reformed  church,  the 
old,  the  original  church,  stripped  of 
those  incrustations,  and  freed  from  those 
pollutions,  which  had  fastened  upon  it 
duriu":  a  lontr  ni<Tht  of  itinorance.  Theirs 
was  the  work  of  renovating  an  ancient 
cathedral,  majestic  even  in  decay,  pre- 
senting the  traces  of  noble  architecture, 
though  in  ruins  on  this  side,  and  choked 
with  rubbish  on  that.  They  did  not  at- 
tempt to  batter  down  the  walls,  and 
plough  up  the  foundations,  of  the  vener- 
able edifice,  and  then  to  erect  on  the 
site  a  wholly  modern  structure.  They 
were  better  taught,  and  better  directed. 
They  removed,  with  the  greatest  care- 
fulness and  diligence,  the  coating  from 
the  beautiful  ])illars  which  men  had 
daubed  with  "  untempered  mortar;"  and 
1  they  swept  away  buttresses  which  did 


PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPEAY. 


313 


but  disfigure  without  sustaining  the 
building ;  and,  above  all,  they  opened 
the  windows  which  ignorance,  or  super- 
stition, had  blocked  up;  and  then  the 
rich  light  of  heaven  came  streaming 
down  the  aisles,  and  men  flocked  to  its 
courts  to  worship  the  one  God  through 
the  one  Mediator  Christ.  And  there- 
fore, as  we  would  again  tell  you,  were 
they  the  reformers,  and  nothing  more 
than  the  reformers  of  the  church.  You 
sometimes  hear  or  read  of  the  father's  of 
the  English  church,  the  name  being 
given  to  the  reformers.  But  the  name 
is  most  falsely  applied.  The  fathers  of 
the  English  church  are  the  apostles  and 
those  apostolic  men,  who  lived  in  the 
early  days  of  Christianity,  and  handed 
down  to  us  what  was  held  as  truth,  when 
there  were  the  best  means  of  ascertain- 
ing and  defining  it.  We  acknowledge 
no  modern  fathers :  it  were  to  acknow- 
ledge a  modern  birth.  We  claim  to  be 
the  ancient  church ;  we  fasten  on  the 
Roman  catholic  the  being  the  modern — 
the  modern,  not  in  constitution,  for 
therein  we  have  both  the  same  date,  and 
that  date  apostolic  ;  but  the  modern  in 
a  thousand  innovations  on  genuine  Chris- 
tianity— Christianity  as  preached  by 
Christ  and  St.  Paul — Christianity  as  ex- 
hibited by  the  writers  of  the  first  four 
centuries  of  the  church. 

But  it  is  here  that  we  reach  the  gist 
of  the  question  :  we  must  set  before  you 
certain  doctrines  held  by  the  Roman 
church,  and  denounced  by  the  reformed  ; 
or  state  particulars  in  which  the  two  dif- 
fer with  regard  to  the  same  article  of 
faith. 

We  have  referred  already  to  the  pre- 
tended infallibihty  of  the  Roman  church, 
and  shall  only  farther  say,  that  Rome 
must  give  up  this  doctrine  ere  there  can 
be  peace  :  it  has  no  foundation  in  Scrip- 
ture, for  St.  Paul  addresses  the  Roman 
church  as  liable  to  err  :  it  is  contradicted 
by  facts,  for  diiferent  popes  and  councils 
have  decreed  opposite  things ;  and  it  is 
dangerous  and  deadly,  as  giving  the  di- 
vine sanction  to  every  error  which  an  ig- 
norant mortal  may  adopt,  and  to  every 
practice  which  a  vicious  may  enjoin. 
We  protest,  next,  against  the  Romish 
doctrine  of  justification,  declaring  it  un- 
scriptural,  and  therefore  fatal  to  the  soul. 
This  doctrine  is,  that  our  own  inherent 
justice  is  the  formal  cause  of  our  justifi- 
cation ;  the  Council  of  Trent  having  pro- 


nounced any  one  accursed,  who  should  say 
that  men  are  justified,  either  by  the  im- 
putation of  Christ's  righteousness  alone, 
or  only  by  the  remission  of  sins  ;  or  who 
should  maintain  that  the  grace  by  which 
we  are  justified  is  the  favor  of  God  alone. 
And  as  to  merit,  which  is  closely  asso- 
ciated herewith,  a  famous  cardinal  has 
delivered  this  noted  decision,  "A  just 
man  hath,  by  a  double  title,  right  to  the 
same  glory;  one  by  the  merits  of  Christ 
imparted  to  him  by  grace,  another  by 
his  own  merits."*  Can  we,  without 
treachery  to  the  souls  of  men,  be  at  peace 
with  Rome,  whilst  she  inculcates  tenets 
directly  at  variance  with  those  which  are 
the  essence  of  Christianity,  that  we 
are  "justified  freely  by  God's  grace," 
"  through  faith,"  and  "  not  of  works ;"  and 
that  "  the  gift  of  God  is  eternal  life, 
through  Jesus  Chist  our  Lord  1 "  We 
pi'otest  further  against  the  Romish  doc- 
trine of  the  insufficiency  of  what  we  re- 
ceive as  the  canonical  Scriptures,  of  the 
authority  of  the  Apocrypha,  and  of  tra- 
ditions. The  papists  hold,  according  to 
the  deci'ees  of  the  same  Council  of  Trent, 
that  there  is  not  expressly  contained  in 
Scripture  all  necessary  doctrine,  either 
concerning  faith  or.  manners  :  we  reject 
the  tenet  as  blasphemous,  seeing  that  a 
curse  is  pronounced  by  the  Bible  on  all 
who  shall  add  to  it,  or  take  from  it ;  and 
thus  God's  Spirit  hath  decided  the  suffi- 
ciency of  Scripture.  The  papists  re- 
ceive the  apocryphal  books  as  canonical : 
the  voice  of  antiquity  is  against  them, 
the  internal  evidence  is  against  them, 
and  we  protest  against  the  reception,  be- 
cause we  know  that  the  apocryphal  books 
may  be  brought  in  support  of  doctrines 
which  we  repudiate  as  false,  and  of 
practices  which  we  deprecate  as  im- 
pious. And  as  to  traditions,  of  which 
the  Council  of  Trent  decreed,  that  they 
must  be  received  with  no  less  piety  and 
veneration  than  the  Scriptures,  they  may 
be  mightily  convenient  for  papists,  be- 
cause a  precept  can  be  produced  with 
the  authority  of  a  revelation,  whenever 
a  falsehood  is  to  be  made  current  for 
truth  :  but  we  utterly  reject  these  un- 
written traditions,  because,  at  best,  they 
are  impeachments  of  the  sufficiency  of 
Scripture,  and  because  they  afford  every 
facility  for  the  establishment  of  eiTor  un*- 
der  the  seeming  sanction  of  God. 

*  Bellai-mine,  quoted  by  Bishop  Hall. 
40 


314 


PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPERY. 


But  this  is  not  all :  our  protest  yet  ex- 
tends itself  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the 
left.  The  papists  maintain,  that,  in  the 
sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  there 
is  a  conversion  of  the  whole  substance 
of  the  bread  into  Christ's  body,  and  of 
the  whole  substance  of  the  wine  into  his 
blood.  This  is  their  doctrine  of  tran- 
substantiation.  Against  this  doctrine  we 
protest,  not  only  because  there  is  a  con- 
tradiction to  our  senses,  for  taste,  and 
touch,  and  sight  assure  us  that  the  con- 
secrated bread  is  still  bread,  and  the 
consecrated  wine  still  wine  ;  but  because 
it  overthrows  the  truth  of  Christ's  hu- 
manity :  it  makes  his  body  infinite  and 
omnipresent :  it  makes  that  body  to  be 
on  the  earth,  when  Scripture  declares  it 
to  be  in  heaven  ;  and  if  it  thus  interfere 
with  the  fact  of  Christ's  humanity,  afTect- 
incr  vitallv  the  truths  of  his  being  a  man 
like  ourselves,  how  can  we  admit  it  with- 
out destroying  the  Gospel  ]  The  papists 
further  hold  in  regard  of  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per, that  therein  is  offered  to  God  a  true, 
proper,  and  propitiatory  sacrifice  for  the 
living  and  dead,  so  that  the  priests,  daily 
ministering,  make  a  fresh  oblation  of  the 
Son  of  God  to  the  Father.  This  is  what 
is  styled  the  sacrifice  of  the  mass  :  we 
reject  it  as  unscriptural,  for  wo  know 
that  "  Christ  was  once  offered  to  bear 
the  sins  of  many ; "  we  reject  it  as  im- 
pious, because  Christ,  as  the  great  High 
Priest,  offered  up  himself,  and  no  inferior 
priest  might  present  so  illustrious  a  vic- 
tim. 

Neither  is  it  in  this  respect  only  that 
the  papists  interfere  with  the  mediatorial 
office  of  Christ.  What  is  to  be  said  of 
the  invocation  of  angels  and  saints  1  The 
Romish  Church  declares,  according  to 
the  creed  of  Pius  IV.  that  "  the  saints 
who  reign  with  Christ  are  to  be  venerat- 
ed and  invoked,  and  that  they  offer 
prayers  to  God  for  us."  Nay,  has  not 
the  present  pope,  in  a  letter  circulated 
amongst  the  clergy  of  his  church,  styled 
the  Virgin  Mary  his  greatest  confidence, 
even  the  whole  foundation  of  his  hope  ] 
And  shall  we  not  protest  against  a  church, 
and  that,  too,  vehemently  and  incessant- 
ly, shall  we  make  peace  with  a  church 
which  thus,  disguise  and  varnish  and  ex- 
tenuate as  you  will,  exalls  sinful  mortals 
to  a  particijjatiun  in  the  groat  office  of 
Jesus,  introduces  virtually  a  h'Ug  train 
of  intercessors,  and  thus  dom(dislies 
the  mighty  and  life-giving  truths,  that 


there  is  "one  mediator  between  God  and 
man,"  and  that,  "  if  any  man  sin,  we  have 
an  advocate  with  the  Fatlier,  Jesus 
Christ  the  righteous  ] "  We  must  go  fur- 
ther. We  must  not  hesitate  to  charge 
the  Roman  church  with  idolatry;  though 
many,  who  have  often  sworn  solemnly 
to  their  belief  that  its  practices  were 
idolatrous,  now  hold  such  opinion  to  be 
the  offspring  of  nothing  but  ignorance 
and  illiberality.  The  Council  of  Trent 
decreed,  that  the  images  and  relics  of 
Christ  and  the  saints  are  to  be  duly 
honored,  venerated,  or  worshipped  :  and 
no  one  who  has  visited  Roman  catholic 
countries  can  be  ignorant  how  faithfully 
the  decree  is  obeyed.  We  call  this  idol- 
atry. O  no,  is  the  retort :  the  worship 
is  not  rendered  to  the  image,  but  only  to 
the  being  whom  the  image  represents. 
Be  it  so  :  this  is  nevertheless  idolatry. 
The  Israelites  when  they  bowed  before 
the  golden  calf,  professedly  designed  to 
worship  the  true  God,  not  the  image; 
but  they  were  slain  with  a  great  slaugh- 
ter, as  impious  idolaters.  Besides,  this 
is  mere  subterfuge  ;  the  imasre  itself  is 
worshipped.  Else,  why  has  one  image 
a  greater  sanctity  than  another  1  Why 
are  pilgrimages  to  be  made  to  our  Lady's 
chapel  at  Loretto,  rather  than  to  any 
other  chapel  of  our  Lady,  except  that 
the  Virgin's  image  in  the  one  is  more 
precious  and  powerful  than  that  in  the 
other  ]  and  if  it  be  thus  thought  that 
there  is  a  virtue  resident  in  the  image, 
of  what  use  is  it  to  say  that  the  image  is 
reckoned  nothing,  and  receives  no  honor? 
The  second  commandment  is  broken, 
distinctly  and  flagrantly  broken,  by  the 
Roman  catholics  :  and  as  worshippers  of 
the  one  true  God,  who  has  declared 
himself  "a  jealous  God,"  we  protest 
against  a  church  which  enjoins  that  in- 
cense be  burnt,  and  prayei-s  made,  be- 
fore images  ;  and  we  demand  of  her  that 
she  sweep  from  lier  temples  the  "silver 
and  gold,  the  work  of  men's  hands,"  ere 
there  can  be  place  for  our  obeying  the 
precept  of  St.  Paul,  "If  it  be  posssible, 
live  peaceably  with  all  men." 

And  what  shall  we  say  more  1  for  the 
time  would  fail  us  to  tell  of  multiplied 
sacraments  ;  of  the  cup  denied  to  the 
laity,  though  Christ  said  to  his  discnjdes, 
"  drink  ye  all  of  it ;  "  of  indulgences,  im- 
piously imagined  deceits,  whereby  men 
may  be  delivered  from  ])urgatory,  a  place 
which  exists  only  in  their  own  fancies 


PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPERY. 


315 


and  creeds  ;  of  the  distinctions  between 
venials  sins  and  mortal,  fine  wire-drawn 
Bubtilities,  contrary  to  the  scriptural  de- 
finitions of  sin,  and  calculated  to  lull 
men's  consciences  to  sleep  in  the  midst 
of  their  crimes ;  of  penances  which  are 
meritorious,  of  relics  which  are  miracu- 
lous ;  of  the  shutting  up  the  Bible  from 
the  common  people ;  of  prayers  in  an 
unknown  tongue;  of  fastings  which  have 
no  authority  in  relation,  and  of  prohibi- 
tions which  necessarily  leap  to  licentious- 
ness. We  will  not  say  that  there  is  the 
same  degree  of  error  in  each  of  the  par- 
ticulars thus  rapidly  enumerated ;  nor 
that  the  error,  wheresoever  it  exists,  is 
equally  fundamental  and  fatal.  But  we 
can  confidently  affirm  that  there  is  cause, 
in  each  case,  for  the  protest  of  every 
lover  of  pure  Christianity ;  that  in  none 
can  the  error  be  deemed  harmless  ;  yea, 
that  in  none  can  it  be  shown  other  than 
full  of  peril  to  the  soul.  And  whatever 
may  be  your  opinion  on  one  or  another 
point  of  difference  between  the  churches, 
we  may  safely  refer  it  to  the  decision  of 
every  upholder  of  scriptui-al  truth,  whe- 
ther the  catalogue  which  we  have  given 
of  Roman  Catholic  errors  and  corrup- 
tions, does  not  justify  the  reformers  in 
having  commenced,  and  ourselves  in 
continuing,  separation  from  the  disciples 
of  popery  ]  We  have  shown  you  doc- 
trines completely  counter  to  that  of  jus- 
tification by  faith,  ascribing  a  strength 
to  man's  powers,  and  a  worth  to  his  ac- 
tions, which  would  almost  prove  him 
competent  to  the  saving  himself.  We 
have  brought  before  you  tenets  irrecon- 
cilable with  the  truth  of  the  Redeemer's 
complex  person,  which  assail  his  office 
as  Mediator,  and  strip  his  propitiation  of 
power  by  representing  it  as  daily  repeat- 
ed. We  have  told  you  of  violence  done 
to  the  sanctity  of  revelation  by  the  honor 
given  to  human  fable  and  tradition,  of 
idolatrous  worship,  of  extenuated  sin, 
and  of  authority,  impiously  assumed,  to 
remit  the  punishments  and  dispense  the 
rewaids  of  futurity.  And  this  is  popery. 
This  is  popery,  not  as  libelled,  and 
maligned,  and  traduced  by  sworn  foes, 
but  as  described,  and  defined,  in  its  own 
authorised  and  unrescinded  documents. 
This  is  popery,  the  religion  against 
which,  if  you  will  believe  modern  liber- 
alism, it  is  little  better  than  bigotry  to 
object,  and  which  approaches  so  nearly 
to  protestantism,  that  a  little  mutual  ac- 


commodation mit,ht   remove  every  dif- 
ference. 

Yes,  it  may  approach  nearly  to  pro- 
testantism, but  only  to  protestantism  as 
it  exists  in  days  of  indifference  and  heart- 
lessness,  and  for  which  the  far  truer 
name  were  infidelity.  Not  the  protes- 
tantism of  Luther,  and  Cranmer,  and 
Ridley,  and  Hooper,  and  all  the  noble 
army  of  martyrs.  Not  the  protestantism 
of  the  worthies  of  the  purest  days  of 
Christianity.  Not  the  protestantism  of 
the  holy  fathers  of  the  church.  Not  the 
protestantism,  we  are  bold  to  use  the 
expression,  of  Chiist  and  his  apostles. 
Yes,  the  protestantism  for  which  we 
contend,  and  which  we  declare  as  in- 
capable of  alliance  with  popery  as  the 
east  of  junction  with  the  west,  is  the 
protestantism  of  Christ  and  his  apostles. 
The  reformed  religion  is  no  novelty  :  if 
it  can  be  proved  a  day  younger  than 
Christ  and  his  apostles,  away  with  it 
from  the  earth  as  a  pernicious  delusion. 
It  was  no  invention  of  Luther  and  his 
fellow-laborers.  The  Roman  catholics 
indeed  would  taunt  us  with  the  recent 
origin  of  our  faith,  as  though  it  had 
sprung  up  in  the  sixteenth  century, 
whilst  their  own  is  hallowed  by  all  the 
suffrages  of  antiquity.  There  was  ne- 
ver a  more  insolent  taunt,  and  never  a 
more  unwarranted  boast.  Ours,  as  we 
have  already  intimated,  is  the  old  reli- 
gion, theirs  is  the  new.  Ours  is,  at 
least,  as  old  as  the  Bible ;  for  it  has  not 
a  single  tenet  which  we  do  not  prove 
from  the  Bible.  But  theirs  must  be 
younger  than  the  Bible ;  for  where  in 
the  Bible  is  the  Bible  said  to  be  insuffi- 
cient, and  where  is  the  pope  declared 
supreme  and  infallible,  and  where  is  sin 
divided  into  mortal  and  venial,  and  where 
are  the  clergy  forbidden  to  marry,  and 
where  are  images  directed  to  be  wor- 
shipped, and  where  is  the  church  intrust- 
ed with  the  granting  indulgences "? 
There  is  not  a  solitary  article  of  protes- 
tantism, in  support  of  which  we  are  not 
ready  to  appeal  to  the  canonical  Scrip- 
tures, and  the  writings  of  the  early  fa- 
thers ;  there  are  a  hundred  of  popery, 
which  papists  themselves  are  too  wise  to 
rest  on  such  an  appeal.  They  may  ask 
us,  where  was  your  religion  before  Lu- 
ther 1  and  our  reply  is,  in  the  word  of 
the  living  God,  in  the  creeds  of  apostles 
and  apostolical  men,  and  in  the  practice 
of  those  witnesses,  who,  in  every  age, 


31G 


PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPERY. 


refused  to  pai'ticipate  in  the  abomina-  j 
tions  of  Rome.  But  we  ask  them, 
where  was  youi*  religion  before  such  or 
Buch  an  aspiiing  pontiff  put  forth  such  or 
such  a  doctrine  or  claim  1  We  fix  the 
doctrine  of  the  papal  supremacy  to  the 
sixth  century — let  them  prove  it  older 
if  they  can  ;  of  seven  sacraments  to  the 
twelfth  century — let  them  prove  it  older 
if  they  can;  of  transubstantiation  to  the 
thirteenth  century — let  them  prove  it 
older  if  they  can.  And  yet  protestant- 
ism is  the  spurious  manufacture  of  a 
late  date,  whilst  popery  is  the  venerable 
transmission  from  the  first  year  of  the 
christian  era.  Yes,  all  that  is  true  in 
popery  has  been  transmitted  from  the 
earlest  days  of  Christianity  ;  but  all  that 
is  true  in  popery  makes  up  protestant- 
ism. Popery  is  protestantism  mutilated, 
disguised,  deformed,  and  overlaid  with 
corrupt  additions ;  protestantism  is  po- 
pery restored  to  its  first  purity,  cleansed 
from  false  glosses,  and  freed  from  the 
rubbish  accumulated  on  it  by  ages  of 
superstition, 

AVe  recur  then  to  our  former  asser- 
tion, and  declare  that  the  protestantism 
for  which  we  contend  as  irreconcilable 
with  popery,  is  nothing  else  than  the 
protestantism  of  Christ  and  his  apostles. 
And  the  protestaiitism  of  Christ  and  his 
apostles  can  have  no  peace  with  popery. 
We  would,  if  possible,  "  live  peaceably 
with  all  men,"  and,  therefore,  with  the 
Roman  church.  But  it  is  not  possible. 
We  cannot  surrender  justification  by 
faith.  We  cannot  multiply  mediators. 
We  cannot  bow  down  before  images. 
We  cannot  believe  bread  to  be  flesh, 
and  wine  to  be  blood.  We  cannot  as- 
cribe to  a  fallible  man  the  unerring  wis- 
dom of  the  one  living  God.  And,  there- 
fore, it  is  not  possible.  No  ;  if  popery 
regain  its  lost  power,  let  it  not  be 
through  our  giving  it  the  right  hand  of 
fellowship.  Let  it  wrest  back  ecclesi- 
astical endowments  ;  let  it  rekindle  the 
fires  of  persecution  ;  let  it  be  legisla- 
ted into  might  by  time-serving  conces- 
sions ;  but  never  let  us  be  silent,  as 
though  we  thought  popery  to  be  truth ; 
never  supino.  ai  ihough  we  counted  its 
errors  uninrportant. 

A  righteous  ancestry  felt  the  im- 
possibility of  peace  with  Rome ;  and 
though  they  could  wage  the  war  only 
at  the  risk  of  substance  and  life,  yet  did 
they  manfully  throw  themselves  into  the 


struggle  ;  for  far  dearer  tc  them  was 
"  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  than  wealth,  or 
honor,  or  the  quiet  comforts  of  home  ; 
and  seeing  that  this  truth  was  disguised 
or  denied,  they  could  not  rest  till  it  was 
fully  exhibited,  and  boldly  proclaimed. 
Their  ashes  are  yet  in  our  land ;  out 
cities  and  villages  are  haunted  by  their 
memories  ;  but  shall  it  be  said  that  their 
spirit  hath  departed,  and  that  we  value 
not  the  privileges  purchased  for  us  by 
their  blood  ]  Children  as  we  are  of 
men  who  discovered,  and  acted  on  the 
discovery,  that  to  remain  at  peace  with 
Rome  were  to  offer  insult  to  God,  we 
will  not  prove  our  degeneracy  by  laps- 
ing into  an  alliance  which  they  abhorred 
as  sacrilegious.  The  echo  of  their 
voices — trumpet-tongued  as  they  were, 
so  that,  at  the  piercing  call,  Europe 
shook  as  with  an  earthquake — still  lin- 
gers on  our  mountains  and  in  our  val- 
leys ;  still  is  it  syllabling  to  us  that  po- 
pery is  the  predicted  apostacy  of  the 
latter  times ;  still  is  it  discoursirvg  of 
Rome  as  the  mystic  Babylon  of  the 
Apocalypse,  and  reiterating  the  sum- 
mons, "  Come  out  of  her,  my  people, 
that  ye  be  not  ^lartakers  of  her  sins,  and 
that  ye  receive  not  of  her  plagues." 
Thus  it  is  reminding  us — though,  if 
there  were  no  such  echo,  there  is  speech 
enough  in  reason,  speech  enough  in  re- 
velation— that,  in  separating  from  the 
Romish  church,  we  are  not  forgetful  of 
the  duty  of  endeavoring  to  keep  "  the 
unity  of  Spirit  in  the  bond  of  peace ;" 
but  that,  in  refusing  communion  with 
that  church,  and  requiring  her  to  re- 
nounce her  abominations  ere  we  will 
keep  back  our  protest,  we  obey  to  the 
utmost  the  precept  of  the  apostle,  "  if 
it  be  possible,  as  much  as  lieth  in  you, 
live  peaceably  with  all  men." 

Now  we  have  been  the  more  ready 
to  embrace  an  opportunity  of  bringing 
protestantism  before  you  in  contrast 
with  ])opery,  because  we  believe  that 
the  Roman  catholic  religion  has  been 
rapidly  gaining  ground  in  this  country. 
There  must  be  great  inattention  to 
what  is  passing  on  all  sides,  if  any  of 
you  be  unaware  that  popery  is  on  the 
increase.  It  is  easy  to  meet  statements 
in  regard  to  the  growing  number  of 
papal  chapels  and  colleges,  hy  saying 
that  the  growth  is  but  proportioned  to 
the  growth  of  jiopulation,  and  therefore 
does  not  indicate  any  influx  of  prose- 


PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPERY. 


317 


lytes.  Of  course,  a  reply  such  as  this 
is  of  no  woi'th,  except  as  borne  out  by 
facts ;  and  we  thoroughly  believe,  that, 
the  more  carefully  you  examine,  the 
more  you  will  find  that  there  is  a  great- 
er growth  of  popery  than  you  had  right 
to  expect  from  the  growth  of  popula- 
tion. When  you  have  made  due  allow- 
ance for  the  increased  numbers  in  Ro- 
man catholic  families,  there  will  be  a 
large  surplus,  only  to  be  referred  to  a 
successful  system  of  proselytism.  It 
should  suffice  to  convince  you  of  this, 
to  obsei've,  as  you  easily  may,  that  Ro- 
man catholic  chapels  are  jising  in  neigh- 
borhoods where  there  is  no  Roman 
catholic  population ;  and  that,  in  cases 
where  the  chapel  has  been  reared,  in 
hopes  that  a  congregation  would  be  form- 
ed, the  hopes  have  not  been  altogether 
falsified  by  the  event. 

What  are  we  to  say  to  this  1  Men 
would  indeed  persuade  you  that  the  en- 
larged intelligence  of  the  times,  the 
diffusion  of  knowledge,  and  the  increase 
of  liberality,  are  an  ample  security 
against  the  revival,  to  any  great  extent, 
of  a  system  so  absurd  and  repulsive  as 
popery.  But  they  quite  forget,  when 
they  hastily  pronounce  that  popery  has 
no  likelihood  of  being  revived  in  an  en- 
lightened age,  that  it  is  emphatically  the 
religion  of  human  nature  ;  and  that  he, 
who  can  persuade  himself  of  its  truth, 
passes  into  a  position  the  most  coveted 
by  the  mass  of  our  race,  that  in  which 
sin  may  be  committed,  with  a  thorough 
security  that  its  consequences  may  be 
averted.  We  find  no  guarantee  asfalnst 
the  reinstatement  of  popery,  in  the  con- 
fessed facts  of  a  vast  outstretch  of  mind, 
and  of  a  general  developement  of  the 
thinking  faculties  of  our  people.  It  is 
an  axiom  with  us,  that  people  must  have 
some  kind  of  religion  ;  they  cannot  so 
sepulchre  their  immortality,  that  it  will 
never  struggle  up,  and  compel  them  to 
think  of  provision  for  the  futui'e.  And 
when  a  population  shall  have  grown 
vain  of  its  intelligence,  and  proud  of  its 
knowledge;  when  by  applying  univer- 
sally the  machinery  of  a  mere  mental 
education,  and  pervading  a  country 
with  literature  rather  than  with  Scrip- 
ture, you  shall  have  brought  men  into 
the  condition,  O  too  possible,  of  those 
who  think  it  beneath  them  to  inquire 
after  God ;  then,  do  we  believe,  the 
scene  will  be  clear  for  the  machinations 


of  such  a  system  as  the  papacy.  The 
inflated  and  self-sufficient  generation  will 
feel  the  need  of  some  specific  for  quiet- 
ing conscience.  But  they  will  prefer 
the  least  spiritual,  and  the  least  humiliat- 
ing. They  will  lean  to  that,  which,  if  it 
insult  the  understanding,  bribes  the 
lusts,  and  buys  reason  into  silence  by 
the  immunities  which  it  promises.  It  is 
not  their  wisdom  which  will  make  them 
loath  popery.  Too  wise  to  seek  God 
prayerfully  and  humbly  in  the  Bible, 
they  will  be  as  open  to  the  delusion 
which  can  believe  a  lie,  as  the  ignorant 
to  the  imposition  which  palms  off  false- 
hood for  truth.  They  will  not  want 
God,  but  a  method  of  forgetting  him, 
which  shall  pass  at  the  same  time  for  a 
method  of  remembering  him.  This  is 
a  definition  of  popery,  that  masterpiece 
of  Satan,  constructed  for  two  mighty 
divisions  of  humankind,  the  men  who 
would  be  saved  by  their  merits,  and  the 
men  who  would  be  saved  in  their  sins. 
Hence,  if  a  day  of  great  intellectual 
darkness  be  favorable  for  popery,  so 
may  be  a  day  of  great  intellectual  light. 
We  may  as  well  fall  into  the  pit  with 
our  eyes  dazzled,  as  with  our  eyes  blind- 
folded :  ignorance  is  no  better  element 
for  a  false  religion  than  knowledge, 
when  it  has  generated  conceit  of  our 
own  powers ;  and  intellect,  which  is  a 
defender,  when  duly  honored  and  em- 
ployed, becomes  a  betrayer,  when  idoli- 
zed as  omnipotent. 

You  are  told  moreover,  and  this  is 
one  of  the  most  specious  of  the  deceits 
through  which  popery  carries  on  its 
work,  that  the  Roman  catholic  religion 
is  not  what  it  was  ;  that  it  took  its  com- 
plexion from  the  times ;  and  that  tenets, 
against  which  protestants  loudly  exclaim, 
and  principles  which  they^  indignantly 
execrate,  were  held  only  in  days  of 
ignorance  and  barbarism,  and  have  long 
since  fled  before  the  advance  of  civiliza- 
tion. And  very  unfair  and  ungenerous, 
we  are  told,  it  is,  to  rake  up  the  absurd- 
ities and  cruelties  of  a  rude  and  unin- 
formed age,  and  to  charge  them  on  the 
creed  of  men  in  our  own  generation, 
who  detest  them  as  cordially  as  our- 
selves. Be  it  so  :  we  arc  at  all  events  deal- 
ing with  an  infallible  church  :  and  unless 
the  claim  to  infallibility  be  amongst  the 
things  given  up  we  are  at  a  loss  to  know 
how  this  church  can  so  greatly  have 
changed;    how,    since    she    never    goes 


318 


PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPERY. 


wrong,  she  can  renounce  what  she  be- 
lieved, and  condemn  what  she  did. 
And  the  Roman  church  is  not  suicidal 
enough  to  give  up  lier  claim  to  infalli- 
bility :  but  she  is  sagacious  enough  to 
perceive  that  men  are  willing  to  be  de- 
ceived, that  an  excess  of  false  chanty  is 
blinding  them  to  facts,  and  that  there  is 
abroad  amongst  them  such  an  idolatry . 
of  what  they  call  liberal,  that  they  make 
it  a  point  of  honor  to  believe  good  of  all 
evil,  and  perhaps  evil  of  all  good.  Of 
this  temper  of  the  times,  is  the  Roman 
church,  marvellously  wise  in  her  genera- 
tion, adroitly  availing  herself:  and  so 
well  has  she  plied  men  with  the  specious 
statement  that  she  is  not  what  she  was, 
that  they  are  rather  covering  her  with 
apologies  for  their  inconsiderate  bigotry, 
than  thinking  of  measures  to  resist  her 
advances.  But  there  is  no  change  in 
popery.  The  system  is  the  same,  in- 
trinsically, inherently  the  same.  It  may 
assume  different  aspects  to  carry  differ- 
ent purposes,  but  this  is  itself  a  part  of 
popery  :  there  is  the  variable  appearance 
of  the  chameleon,  and  the  invariable 
venom  of  the  serpent.  Thus  in  Ireland, 
where  the  theology  of  Dens  is  the  recog- 
nized text-book  of  the  Roman  catholic 
clergy,  they  will  tell  you,  when  there  is 
any  end  to  be  gained,  that  popery  is  an 
improved,  and  modified,  and  humanized 
thing :  whereas,  all  the  while,  there  is 
not  a  monstrous  doctrine,  broached  in 
the  most  barbarous  of  past  times,  which 
this  very  text-book  does  not  uphold  as 
necessary  to  be  believed,  and  not  a  foul 
practice,  devised  in  the  midnight  of  the 
world,  which  it  does  not  enjoin  as  ne- 
cessary to  be  done.  Make  peace,  if  you 
will,  with  popery,  receive  it  into  your 
senate,  shrine  it  in  your  churches,  plant 
it  in  your  hearts ;  but  be  ye  certain, 
certain  as  that  there  is  a  heaven  above 
you  and  a  God  over  you,  that  the  po- 
pery thus  honored  and  embraced,  is  the 
very  popery  that  was  degraded  and 
loathed  by  tlie  holiest  of  your  fathers, 
the  very  popery — the  same  in  haughti- 
ness, the  same  in  intolerance — which 
iorded  it  over  kings,  assumed  the  pre- 
rogatives of  Deity,  crushed  human  liber- 
ty, and  slew  the  saints  of  (lod. 

O  that  England  may  be  convinced  of 
ihis,  before  taught  it   by    fatal    experi- 
ence.    It  may  not  yet  be  too  late.     She 
has    tampered    with    popery :    ;"n  many ' 
respects   she   has    patronized    p.-  pery, 


giving  it,  by  her  compromises  and  con 
cessions,  a  vantage-ground  which  its 
best  wishers  could  hardly  have  dared 
to  expect ;  but,  nevertheless,  it  may 
not  yet  be  too  late.  Let  protestants 
only  awaken  to  a  sense  of  the  worth  of 
their  privileges,  privileges  so  long  en- 
joyed that  they  are  practically  forgotten, 
and  this  land  may  remain,  what  for  three 
centuries  it  hath  been,  the  great  witness 
for  scriptural  truth,  the  great  centre  of 
scriptural  light.  There  is  already  a 
struggle.  In  Ireland  especially,  popery 
so  wrestles  with  protestantism  that  there 
is  cause  for  fear  that  falsehood  will  gain 
mastery.  And  we  call  upon  you  to 
view  the  struggle  in  its  true  light.  It 
is  not  to  be  regarded  as  a  struggle  be- 
tween rival  churches,  each  desiring  the 
temporal  ascendency.  It  is  not  a  con- 
test for  the  possession  of  tithe,  for  right 
to  the  mitre,  for  claim  on  the  benefice. 
It  is  a  contest  between  the  Christianity 
of  the  New  Testament,  and  the  chi-isti- 
anity  of  human  tradition  and  corrupt 
fable — a  contest,  therefore,  whose  issue 
is  to  decide  whether  the  pure  Gospel 
shall  have  footing  in  Ireland. 

There  is,  there  will  be,  a  struggle ; 
and  our  counsel  to  you  individually  is, 
that  you  examine  well  the  tenets  of 
protestantism,  and  possess  yourselves 
of  the  grounds  on  which  it  is  impossi- 
ble that  we  live  peaceably  with  Rome. 
If  you  belong  to  a  reformed  church,  ac- 
quaint yourselves  witb  the  particulars  in 
which  the  reformation  consisted,  that 
you  may  be  able  to  give  reasons  for  op- 
position to  popery.  And  when  convinc- 
ed that  they  are  not  unimportant  points 
on  which  protestants  differ  from  papists, 
let  each,  in  his  station,  oppose  the  march 
of  popery,  oppose  it  by  argument,  by 
counsel,  by  exhortation,  by  prayer. 
"  Watch  ye,  stand  fast  in  the  faith,  quit 
you  like  men,  be  strong."  By  the 
memory  of  martyrs,  by  the  ashes  of  con- 
fessors, by  the  dust  of  a  thousand  saints, 
we  conjure  you  to  be  stanch  in  defence 
of  your  religion.  The  sj^irits  of  depart- 
ed worthies,  who  witncsssed  a  good 
confession,  and  counted  not  their  lives 
dear,  so  that  truth  might  be  upheld,  bend 
down,  one  might  think,  from  their  lofty 
dwelling-place,  and  mark  our  earnestness 
in  defending  the  faith  "once  delivered 
to  the  saints."  O,  if  they  could  hear  our 
voice,  should  it  not  tell  them,  that  there 
are  yet  many  in  the  land,  emulous  of 


Ci  KI8TIANITY  A  SWORD. 


319 


their  zeal,  and  eager  to  tread  in  their 
steps  ;  ready,  if  there  come  a  season  big 
with  calamity,  to  gird  themselves  for  the 
defence  of  protestantism  in  her  last  asy- 
lum, and  to  maintain  in  the  strength  of 
the  living  God,  that  system  which  they 
wrought  out  with  toil,  and  cemented 
with  blood  1  Yes,  illustrious  immortals  ! 
ye  died  not  in  vain.  Mighty  group  ! 
there  was  lit  up  at  your  massacre  a  fire 
in  those  realms  which  is  yet  unextin- 
guished ;  from  father  to  son  has  the  sa- 
cred flame  been  transmitted  :  and  though, 
in  the  days  of  our  security,  that  flame 
may  have  burnt  with  diminished  lustre, 
yet  let  the  watchmen  sound  an  alarm, 
and  many  a  mountain  top  shall  be  red 
with  the  beacon's  blaze,  and  the  noble 
vault  of  your  resting-place  grow  illumin- 
ed with  the  flash.     Repose  ye  in  your 


deep  tranquility,  spirits  of  the  martyred 
dead !  We  know  something  of  the 
worth  of  a  pure  Gospel,  and  a  free  Bi- 
ble :  and  we  will  bind  ourselves  by  the 
name  of  Him  "  who  liveth  and  abideth 
for  ever,"  to  strive  to  preserve  unimpair- 
ed the  privileges  bequeathed  at  such 
cost.  The  spirit  of  protestantism  may 
have  long  lain  dormant,  but  it  is  not  ex- 
tinct :  it  shall  be  found,  in  the  hour  of 
her  church's  peril,  that  there  are  yet 
bold  and  true-hearted  men  in  England, 
who  count  religion  dearer  than  sub- 
stance ;  and  who,  having  received  from 
their  fathers  a  charter  of  faith,  stained 
with  the  blood  of  the  holiest  and  the  best, 
would  rather  dye  it  afresh  in  the  tide  of 
their  own  veins,  than  send  it  down,  torn 
and  mutilated,  to  their  children. 


SERMON    V 


CHRISTIANITY  A  SWORD. 


••  Think  not  that  I  am  come  to  scud  peace  on  earth  :  I  carac  not  to  Bend  peace,  but  a  sword." — Matthew  X,  34. 


When  Isaiah  predicted  the  birth  of 
Messiah,  "the  Prince  of  Peace"  was 
one  of  the  titles  which  he  gave  to  the 
coming  deliverer.  When  angels  an- 
nounced to  the  shepherds  that  Messiah 
v.'as  born,  they  sang  as  their  chorus, 
"  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on 
earth  peace,  good  will  towards  men." 
At  first  sight,  there  scarcely  seems  to  be 
thorough  agreement  between  such  a  pre- 
diction, or  such  an  announcement,  and 
the  declaration  which  Christ  makes,  in 
our  text,  with  regard  to  his  mission.  Is 
it  "the  Prince  of  Peace,"  the  being 
whose  entrance  upon  earth  was  hailed 
by  the  heavenly  hosts  as  insuring  peace 
to  mankind,  who  proclaims  that  he  had 
not  come  to  send  peace ;    but  that,  as 


though  he  were  the  warrior,  all  whose 
battles  are  "with  confused  noise,  and 
garments  rolled  in  blood,"  he  had  come 
to  send  a  sword  1  Let  it  be  observed 
at  once,  though  your  own  minds  will  an- 
ticipate the  remark,  that  it  is  common 
ia  Scripture  to  represent  a  person  as 
doing  that  of  which  he  may  indeed  be 
the  occasion,  but  which  is  not  effected 
by  his  own  will  or  agency.  Sometimes, 
indeed,  the  action  is  ascribed  to  an  indi- 
vidual who  has  not  even  been  its  occa- 
sion, whose  only  connection  with  the  re- 
sult has  been  the  announcing  that  it 
should  surely  come  to  pass.  Thus  God 
says  to  Jeremiah,  "  See,  I  have  this  day 
set  thee  over  the  nations,  and  over 
the  kingdoms,  to  root  out  and  to  pull 


320 


CHRISTIANITY  A  SWORD. 


down,  and  to  build,  and  to  plant."  Un- 
doubtedly tbe  prophet  had  no  part  in  tlie 
demolition  of  our  empire,  and  the  ag- 
grandizement of  another.  He  was  no 
agent  in  eft'ecting  the  revolutions  which 
he  was  commissioned  to  predict.  All 
that  he  did  was  to  proclaim  a  coming 
destruction,  or  a  coming  exaltation ;  and 
then  he  is  said  to  have  wrought  what  he 
merely  announced. 

You  are  moreover  aware  that  the  Bi- 
ble often  ascribes  to  God's  authorship, 
what  can  only  be  referred  to  his  permis- 
sion ;  so  that  tlie  Almighty  seems  repre- 
sented as  interfering  to  cause  results, 
which  we  are  bound  to  conclude  that  he 
simply  allows.  It  cannot,  therefore,  ex- 
cite surprise,  for  it  quite  consists  with 
the  ordinary  phraseology  of  Scripture, 
that  Christ  should  apparently  announce, 
as  the  purpose  of  his  mission,  a  result 
produced  only  by  human  perverseness. 
There  can  be  nothing  more  easy  of  de- 
monstration, than  that  the  Gospel  is  a 
message  of  peace,  that  Christianity  is  a 
system  which,  cordially  received  and 
fully  obeyed,  would  diffuse  harmony  and 
happiness  through  all  the  world's  fam- 
ilies. And  if  it  once  be  acknowledged 
that  it  is  the  design  and  tendency  of  the 
religion  of  Jesus  to  unite  in  close  bro- 
therhood, by  uniting  in  the  fellowship  of 
"one  faith  and  one  baptism,"  the  tribes 
and  households  of  our  race,  there  is  an 
end  of  all  debate  on  the  fitness  of  appro- 
priating to  the  Savior  the  name  "Prince 
of  Peace ; "  and  we  must  search  else- 
where than  in  the  nature  of  the  christian 
dispensation,  for  reasons  why  the  sword, 
rather  than  the  olive-branch,  is  ascend- 
ant upon  earth. 

We  lay  it  down  then  as  a  position 
whose  justice  will  be  readily  admitted, 
that  our  text  announces  a  result,  and  not 
the  design,  of  the  introduction  of  Chris- 
tianity. Our  Lord  declares  of  himself, 
that  he  came  not  to  send  peace ;  but  we 
are,  notwithstanding,  assured  that  he  had 
leit  the  thnino  of  his  glory  in  order  to 
reconcile  this  creation  to  God,  and  re- 
store friendship  between  man  and  his 
Maker.  We  must  conclude,  therefore, 
that  he  is  not  speaking  of  the  object  of 
his  mission,  but  only  of  the  ojicration  of 
a  fatal  and  perverting  power,  resident  in 
the  creature,  by  which  the  greatest 
blessino-  may  be  turned  into  a  curse. 
Christianity,  in  its  own  nature  and  ten- 
dencies, may  be  emphatically  peace  :  but 


Christianity,  as  clashing  witti  corrupt 
passions,  may  be  practically  a  sword, 
which,  wounding  and  devastating,  brings 
injury,  and  not  benefit,  to  thousands. 
Hence,  knowing  by  his  prescience  that 
disastrous  consequences,  chargeable  al- 
together upon  man,  would  follow  the  in- 
troduction of  Christianity,  our  Lord,  who 
had  come  to  send  peace,  might  declare 
that  he  had  come  to  send  a  sword — the 
only  sense  in  which  he  sent  the  sword, 
being  that  of  publishing  doctrines  which 
would  excite  the  animosities  of  our  na- 
ture against  holiness  and  God. 

But  tbere  are  sundry  inquiries  sug- 
gested by  our  text,  besides  that  of  the 
sense  in  which  the  sending  of  the  sword 
can  be  referred  to  him  who  came  to  send 
peace.  We  have  introduced  our  sub- 
ject with  the  foregoing  remarks,  in  or- 
der to  remove  misapprehension  as  to  the 
true  cause  of  evils,  which  all  must  both 
observe  and  lament.  W^e  shall  indeed 
see  more  clearly  in  the  sequel  whence 
these  evils  originate.  But  it  is  sufficient, 
at  the  outset  of  our  discourse,  to  have 
shown  summarily  the  unfairness  of 
charging  the  consequences  on  the  Au- 
thor of  Christianity  ;  any  blessing,  what- 
ever its  beauty  and  brightness,  may  be 
abused  by  the  recipient :  but  assuredly, 
when  turned  into  an  instrument  of  mis- 
chief, it  is  only  in  its  original  goodness 
that  it  can  be  ascribed  to  the  Creator, 
and  in  its  injuriousness  wholly  to  the 
creature.  This  being  prem-ised,  we  de- 
sign, in  the  first  place,  to  consider  our 
text  as  a  prophecy ;  examining  how 
Christ's  words  have  been  verified,  and 
meeting  such  objections  to  the  plan  of 
God's  dealings  as  the  subject  seems  like- 
ly to  suggest.  We  shall  then  endeavor, 
in  the  second  place,  to  point  out  specifi- 
cally the  causes  which  have  turned  into 
a  sword  that,  which,  in  its  own  nature,  is 
emj)hatically  peace. 

Now  you  must  all  be  familiar  with 
the  melnncholy  truth,  that,  from  its  first 
])ul)lication,  Christianity  has  been  the 
occasion  of  discord  and  bloodshed.  We 
might,  perhaps,  have  been  prepared  to 
expect,  that,  whilst  Christianity  strove 
to  make  head  against  the  world's  super- 
stitions, and  to  dethrone  heathenism, 
which  had  long  held  an  undisputed  sway, 
the  jiassions  and  powers  of  interested 
millions  would  be  excited  against  its 
preachers.  It  was  quite  natural,  that, 
when  there  was  published  a  religion  at 


CimiSTIAmTY  A  SWORD. 


321 


war  with  every  other  then  dominant  and 
approved,  fierce  efibrts  should  be  made 
to  crush,  by  crushing  its  advocates,  a 
system  whose  establishment  must  be  the 
downfall  of  those  which  a  long  ancestry 
had  bequeathed,  and  which  every  lust 
felt  interested  in  upholding.  Seeing 
that  the  worst  passions  of  humanity  had 
60  much  at  stake,  it  might  fairly  have 
been  calculated  that  so  vast  a  revolution 
as  that  of  the  Roman  empire  exchang- 
ing paganism  for,  at  least,  nominal  Chris- 
tianity, would  not  be  effected  without 
great  private  dissatisfaction  if  not  politi- 
cal disturbance.  Accordingly,  as  we  all 
know,  persecutions  of  the  most  fearful 
description  assailed  the  infant  religion, 
designing,  and  almost  effecting,  its  ex- 
tinction. And  when  Satan,  battling  for 
an  empire  which  it  was  the  professed 
object  of  Christianity  to  wrench  away, 
sent  forth  all  his  emissaries,  and  stirred 
up  all  his  agents,  in  order  that,  if  possi- 
ble, the  very  name  of  the  crucified  might 
be  banished  and  lost,  there  was  exhibit- 
ed a  spectacle  which  bore  out  to  the  let- 
ter the  prediction  of  our  text.  They 
who  traced  the  causes  of  massacre  which 
devastated  cities  and  provinces,  and 
found  that  the  christian  religion  had  oc- 
casioned such  outbreaks  of  violence, 
must  have  felt  that  Christ  had  spoken 
words  as  true  as  they  were  awful,  when 
declaring  that  he  had  come,  not  to  send 
peace,  but  a  sword,  on  the  earth. 

It  was,  however,  as  we  have  already 
stated,  fairly  to  have  been  expected, 
that,  ere  heathenism  could  be  nationally 
displaced,  and  Christianity  substituted, 
there  would  be  such  public  convulsion 
as  would  bring  distress  and  death  on 
many  of  the  professors  of  our  faith. 
The  prophecy  becomes  not  unlooked 
for  in  its  fulfilment,  until  Christianity  had 
gained  ascendency,  and  kingdoms  pro- 
fessed themselves  evangelized.  It  might 
have  been  supposed — at  least  until  the 
principles  of  Christianity  had  been  nar- 
rowly sifted — that,  when  the  religion 
became  professedly  that  of  all  the  mem- 
bers of  a  community,  the  sword  would 
be  sheathed,  and  peace  be  the  instant 
produce  of  sameness  of  faith.  But  alas, 
the  persecutions  by  which  paganism 
strove  to  annihilate  Christianity,  are 
more  than  rivalled  in  fierceness  by  those 
of  which  christiai.s  have  been,  at  once, 
the  authors  and  objects.  The  darkest 
page  in  the  history  of  mankind  is  per- 


haps that  on  which  are  registered  the 
crimes  that  have  sjirung  from  the  reli- 
gious differences  of  Christendom.  It 
were  a  sickening  detail,  to  count  up  tho 
miseries  which  may  be  traced  to  these 
differences.  Our  very  children  are  fa- 
miliar with  the  history  of  times  when 
Europe  shook  as  though  with  an  earth- 
quake, and  when  a  haughty  and  tyran- 
nical church  devoted  all  to  execration 
and  death  who  dared  to  think  for  them- 
selves, or  to  take  the  Bible  as  their 
standard  of  faith.  Our  own  land  be- 
came a  battle-plain,  on  which  was  car- 
ried on  the  struggle  for  religious  free- 
dom ;  heresy,  as  the  bold  confession  of 
truth  was  insolently  termed,  marked 
out  thousands  of  our  forefathers  for  the 
stake  or  the  scaffold.  In  this  did  Chris- 
tianity differ  broadly  from  those  false 
systems  of  theology  which  had  been  set 
up  in  the  long  night  of  heathenism  ; 
these  systems  were  tolerant  of  each 
other,  because,  whatever  their  minor 
differences,  they  had  the  same  mighty 
errors  in  common  :  but  popery  opposed 
itself  to  protestantism  as  vehemently  as 
paganism  had  done  to  Christianity  ;  for, 
though  both  confessed  Christ  as  a  Me- 
diator, the  agreement  of  the  two  systems 
was  as  nothing  to  their  separation  on 
grand  and  fundamental  tenets. 

It  is  then,  but  too  true,  that  Christi- 
anity has  been  a  sword  to  Christendom 
itself  The  prophecy  of  our  text  has 
registered  its  fulfilment  in  the  blood  of 
the  multitudes  who,  at  various  times, 
have  been  immolated  on  the  altars  of 
bigotry  and  ignorance.  And  if  one  of 
that  angelic  host  which  thronged  the 
firmament  of  Bethlehem,  and  chanted 
of  "peace  on  earth,  good  will  towards 
men  "  had  taken  the  survey  of  Christen- 
dom, when  persecution  was  at  its  height, 
and  the  Romish  hierarchy,  backed  by 
the  kings  and  great  ones  of  the  earth, 
hunted  down  the  revivers  of  apostolic 
doctrine  and  discipline,  we  may  doubt 
whether  he  would  have  poured  forth  the 
same  rich  melody  ;  whether,  if  left  to 
frame  his  message  from  his  observation, 
he  would  have,  announced  that  Christ 
had  come  to  send  peace,  in  the  face  of 
so  tremendous  a  demonstration,  that, 
practically  at  least,  he  had  come  to  send 
a  sword. 

But  you  are  not  to  suppose  that  the 
prediction  of  our  text  is  accomplished 
in  no  days  but  those  of  intolerance  and 


322 


CHRISTIANITY  A  SWORD. 


persecution.  We  learn,  from  the  suc- 
ceeding verse,  that  Christ  specially  re- 
ferred to  the  family  disturbances  which 
his  religion  would  occasion.  "For  I 
am  come,"  saith  he,  "  to  set  a  man  at 
variance  against  his  father,  and  the 
daughter  against  her  mother,  and  the 
daughter-in-law  against  her  mother-in- 
law."  Here  we  have  a  prophecy,  whose 
fulfilment  is  not  limited  to  a  past  gene- 
ration, but  may'  be  found  every  day  in 
our  own  domestic  histories.  We  live  in 
times — and  we  are  bound  to  thank  God 
for  the  privilege — when  the  profession 
of  that  religion,  which  we  believe  to  be 
true,  exposes  to  no  public  danger,  when 
the  sword  sleeps  in  its  scabbard,  and 
magistracy  interfei'es  with  men's  wor- 
shiji  only  to  protect.  But  we  cannot, 
nevertheless,  be  ignorant  that  there  is  a 
vast  amount  of  private  persecution, 
which,  as  laws  do  not  prescribe,  neither 
can  they  prevent ;  and  that  the  intro- 
duction of  genuine  piety  into  a  house- 
hold is  too  frequently  the  introduction 
of  discord  and  unhappiness.  It  may 
have  fallen  within  tlie  power  of  many 
of  us  to  observe,  how  the  peace  of  a 
family  has  apparently  been  broken  up 
by  religion ;  how  its  members,  amongst 
whom  there  may  have  heretofore  circu- 
lated all  the  charms  of  a  thorough 
unanimity,  have  become  divided  and 
estranged,  when  certain  of  the  number 
have  grown  careful  of  the  soul.  The 
making  a  profession  of  religion  is  often 
considered  tantamount ,  to  actual  rebel- 
lion ;  and  then  the  announced  result  is 
literally  brought  round — the  parents  be- 
ing set  against  the  children,  and  the 
children  against  the  parents.  And  over 
and  above  the  disunion  thus  unhappily 
introduced  into  households,  it  were  idle 
to  deny  that  piety  is  still  exposed  to 
much  of  harassing  opposition,  so  that, 
although  persecution  no  longer  wears 
its  more  appalling  forms,  it  is  not  pos- 
sible to  make  bold  confession  of  Christ, 
without  thereby  incurring  obloquy  and 
wrong.  The  cooling  of  friendship,  the 
withdrawing  of  patronage,  the  misre- 
presentation of  motivofi,  the  endeavor 
to  thwart,  and  turn  into  ridicule — for  all 
these  must  the  man  be  prepared,  who, 
in  our  own  day,  acts  out  his  Christianity  ; 
and  he  who  should  ti)ink  that  he  mif>-ht 
turn  flora  worldhness  to  piety  without 
losing  caste,  and  alienating  many  who 
havo   loved    and    assisted    him,    would 


show  that  he  had  neither  studied  the 
character  of  our  religion,  nor  gathered 
the  testimony  of  experience.  And  whilst 
it  can  thus  be  maintained  that  the  pro- 
fession of  that  godliness  which  the  Gos 
pel  enjoins,  serves  to  break  the  closest 
links  of  association,  dividing  into  almost 
irreconcilable  parties  those  who  have 
heretofore  been  as  one  in  all  the  inter- 
courses of  life,  it  cannot  be  denied  that 
Christianity  is  still  a  sword,  rather  than 
a  peace-maker  upon  earth  ;  and  that, 
whatever  it  may  eflect  in  days  yet  to 
come,  the  breaches  which  it  now  occa- 
sions in  all  ranks  of  society,  attest  that 
Christ  spake  as  a  true  prophet  when  he 
uttered  our  text. 

There  is  no  necessity  that,  in  exhibit- 
ing the  pi-esent  fulfilment  of  the  predic- 
tion, we  pass  from  Christendom  to  the 
still  broad  domains  of  heathenism.  It  is 
undoubtedly  a  result  of  every  mission- 
ary enterprise  which  makes  head  against 
idolatry,  that  deep  and  fierce  passions 
are  roused  by  its  success.  Those  mem- 
bers of  a  tribe  who  embrace  Christiani- 
ty, become  objects  of  the  inveterate  hos- 
tility of  those  who  adhere  to  the  super- 
stitions of  their  fathers.  Thus  is  there 
acted  over  again,  in  the  circumscribed 
neighborhood  of  a  missionary  settle- 
ment, something  of  that  awful  drama 
which  once  had  the  Roman  world  for  its 
theatre.  Heathenism  still  struggles  to 
put  down  Christianity,  and  idol  worship- 
pers still  regard  as  a  personal  enemy 
every  convert  from  idolatry.  Neither 
can  we  see  reason  to  question,  that  be- 
fore any  wide  tract  of  paganism  could 
become  nominally  evangelized  —  we 
mean,  of  course,  by  the  machinery  of 
the  present  dispensation — so  that  the 
religion  of  Jesus  should  take  the  place 
of  a  degrading  mythology,  the  worst 
passions  of  mankind  would  be  banded 
in  the  withstanding,  and  that  too  by 
perfidy  and  violence,  the  exchange  of 
falseliood  for  truth,  of  systems  which 
patronize  sensuality  for  one  which  en- 
joins the  living  soberly  and  riglitenusly. 
And  when  Christianity  had  triun)plied — 
trium|)hed,  be  it  observed,  against  an 
opposition  resembling,  in  its  vehement  e, 
that  which  met  our  religion  on  its  first 
publication — there  would  occur,  we  may 
believe,  all  those  private  but  distressing 
persecutions,  which  we  trace  and  de- 
plore amongst  ourselves  ;  so  that,  in  pre- 
vailing  on  a  heathen  empire  to  throw 


CHRISTIANITY  A  SWORD. 


323 


away  its  idols,  and  erect  the  cross  as  its 
standard,  you  would  have  prevailed  on 
it  to  receive  into  its  families  the  fruitful 
source  of  dissensions,  and  to  take  as  its 
portion  the  being  rent  into  parties, 
whose  variances  must  interrupt  if  not 
destroy,  all  the  harmony  of  society. 
Hence,  it  is  still  the  melancholy  truth, 
that,  in  sending  Christianity,  you  send 
a  sword  into  a  land.  Until  there  be 
usheied  in  a  season  when  religion  shall 
take  possession  of  every  heart  in  an  ex- 
tended population,  there  will  lie,  to  all 
appearance,  an  impossibility  against  the 
nominally  evangelizing  that  population, 
without,  at  the  same  time,  dividing  and 
disturbing  it;  for  the  cross,  whilst  intro- 
duced only  into  the  creed  of  a  multitude, 
will  excite  their  enmity  against  the  few 
who  give  their  affections  to  Him  who 
died  on  it  as  a  sacrifice. 

But  now  we  think  it  a  question  worthy 
the  closest  examination,  whether,  since 
Christianity  has  all  along  proved  a  sword, 
the  human  race  has  been  benefited,  in 
temporal  res23ects,  by  its  propagation. 
VVe  are  not  about  to  take  into  account 
the  unspeakable  advantages  which  this 
religion  has  conferred,  when  man  is" 
viewed  as  the  heir  of  immortality.  But 
there  would  be  something  so  unlooked 
for  in  the  fact,  if  it  were  fact,  that  the 
amount  of  present  happiness  had  been 
diminished,  or  even  not  increased,  by 
Christianity,  that  we  have  right  to  de- 
mand stricter  than  ordinary  proof,  ere  we 
receive  it  into  our  catalogue  of  truths. 
And  we  have  no  hesitation  in  saying, 
that,  in  spite  of  its  having  been  as  a 
swoi'd  on  the  earth,  Christianity  has  done 
more  to  elevate  the  character,  diminish 
the  wretchedness,  and  augment  the  com- 
forts of  the  nations  who  have  i-eceived  it 
as  their  faith,  than  was  ever  effected  by 
the  best  systems  of  heathenism,  whilst 
left  free  to  attempt  the  improvement  of 
human  condition.  We  confess,  of  course, 
that  much  misery  has  been  occasioned 
oy  the  christian  religion  ;  and  that,  had 
ehis  religion  gained  no  footing  in  a  land, 
there  are  many  forms  of  disquietude 
which  its  inhabitants  would  have  altoge- 
ther escaped.  Whilst  Christianity  acts 
as  a  sword,  there  will  be  wounds,  which, 
had  there  been  no  such  weapon,  would 
never  have  been  inflicted.  But  the  fair 
way  of  meeting  the  question  is,  to  en- 
deavor to  strike  a  balance  between  the 
produced   wretchedness    and    the  pro- 


duced happiness,  and   to  determine  on 
which  side  the  preponderance  lies. 

And  we  could  not  wish  a  finer  topic 
of  christian  advocacy  than  that  of  the  im- 
mense blessing  which  the  religion  of 
Jesus  has  proved  to  mankind,  if  viewed 
simply  in  their  temporal  capacity.  We 
are  ready  to  keep  futurity  out  of  sight, 
with  all  its  august  and  terrible  mysteries. 
We  will  not  meet  the  arraigner  of  Chris- 
tianity on  ground  from  which  he  must 
instantly  be  driven,  that  of  the  revelation 
of  immortality,  which  can  be  found  only 
on  the  pages  of  Scripture.  We  will 
confine  ourselves  to  the  present  narrow 
scene,  and  deal  with  man  as  though 
death  were  to  terminate  his  being.  And 
we  do  assert — and  proofs  unnumbered 
are  at  hand  to  make  good  the  assertion 
— that  the  great  civilizer  of  manners,  the 
great  heightener  of  morals,  the  soother 
of  the  afflicted,  the  patron  of  the  desti- 
tute, the  friend  of  the  oppressed — this, 
from  its  first  establishment,  hath  Chris- 
tianity been  ;  and  for  this  should  it  win 
the  venex'ation  of  those  who  know  not  its 
worth,  as  the  alone  guide  to  man's  final 
inheritance.  We  have  only  to  contrast 
the  most  famous  and  refined  of  ancient 
nations  v/ith  modern  and  christian,  in  or- 
der to  assure  ourselves,  that,  in  all  which 
can  give  dignity  to  our  nature,  in  all 
which  can  minister  to  public  majesty 
and  private  comfort,  to  independence  of 
mind,  security  of  property,  and  whatso- 
ever can  either  strengthen  or  ornament 
the  frame-work  of  society,  heathenism — 
great  as  may  have  been  the  progress  in 
arts  and  sciences — must  yield  at  once 
and  immeasurably  to  Christianity. 

It  is  easy  to  upbraid  our  religion,  be- 
cause it  hath  fulfilled  its  own  prophecies, 
and  proved  itself  a  sword  ;  but  what  en- 
gine has  been  so  efficient  as  this  sword 
in  accomplishing  results  which  every 
lover  of  virtue  admires,  and  every  friend 
of  humanity  applauds  1  What  hath  ban- 
ished gross  vices  from  the  open  stage  on 
which  they  once  walked  unblushingly, 
and  forced  them,  where  it  failed  to  ex- 
terminate, to  hide  themselves  in  the 
shades  of  a  disgraceful  privacy  ?  We 
reply,  the  sword  Christianity.  What 
hath  covered  lands  with  buildings  un- 
known in  earlier  and  much-vaunted  days, 
with  hospitals,  and  infirmaries,  and  asy- 
lums ]  We  answer,  the  sword  Chris- 
tianity. What  is  gradually  extirpating 
»lavory  from  the  earth,  and  bringing  ou 


324 


CHRISTIANITY  A  SWORD. 


a  season,  too  long  delayed  indeed,  but 
our  approaches  to  which  distance  incal- 
culably those  of  the  best  heathen  times, 
when  man  shall  own  universally  a  bro- 
ther in  man,  and  dash  off  every  fetter 
•wliich  cruelty  hath  forged,  and  cupidity 
fastened  ?  We  answer  unhesitatingly, 
the  sword  Christianity.  What  hath  soft- 
ened the  horrors  of  war,  rendering  com- 
paiatively  unheard  of  the  massacre  of 
the  unollending,  and  the  oppression  of 
vSptives  1  What  hath  raised  the  female 
sex  from  the  degraded  position  which 
they  still  occupy  in  the  lands  of  a  false 
faith  ?  Wliat  hath  introduced  laws,  which 
shield  the  weakest  from  injuiy,  protect 
the  widow  in  her  lonelinesss,  and  secure 
his  rights  to  the  orphan?  What  hath 
given  sacredness  to  every  domestic  re- 
lation, to  the  ties  which  bind  together 
the  husband  and  the  wife,  the  parent  and 
the  child,  the  master  and  the  servant; 
and  thus  brought  those  virtues  to  our 
firesides,  tlie  exile  of  which  takes  all 
music  from  that  beautiful  word  /io?ne  ? 
To  all  such  questions  we  have  but  one 
reply,  the  sword  Christianity.  The  deter- 
mined foe  of  injustice  in  its  every  form  ; 
the  denouncer  of  malice,  and  revenge, 
and  pride,  passions  which  keep  the  sur- 
face of  society  ever  stormy  and  agitated  ; 
the  nurse  of  genuine  patriotism,  because 
the  enemy  of  selfishness  ;  the  founder 
and  upholder  of  noble  institutions,  be- 
cause the  tejicher  of  the  largest  philan- 
thropy— Christianity  has  lifted  our  fallen 
humanity  to  a  moral  greatness  which 
Beemed  wholly  out  of  reach,  to  a  station, 
which,  compared  with  that  occupied  un- 
der the  tyranny  of  heathenism,  is  like  a 
new  place  amongst  orders  in  creation. 

And  nothing  is  needed,  in  proof  that 
we  jiut  forth  no  exaggerated  statement, 
but  that  Christendom  be  contrasted  with 
countries  which  have  not  yet  received 
Christianity.  If  you  are  in  search  of  the 
attributes  which  give  dignity  to  a  state, 
of  the  virtues  which  shed  lustre  and  love- 
liness over  families,  of  what  is  magnifi- 
cent in  enterprise,  refined  in  civilization, 
lofty  in  ethics,  admirable  in  jurispru- 
dence, you  never  turn  to  any  but  an 
evani^elized  territory,  in  order  to  obtain 
the  most  signal  exliibition.  And  just  in 
proportion  as  Christianity  now  gains  foot- 
ing fin  a  district  (jf  heatlienism,  tlieie  is 
a  distinct  improvement  in  whatever 
tends  to  exalt  a  nation,  and  l)ring  comfort 
And   respectability  into  its    houseli(^lds. 


If  we  could  but  plant  the  cross,  on  every 
mountain,  and  in  every  valley,  of  this 
gloVe,  prevailing  on  a  thousand  tribes  to 
cast  away  their  idols,  and  hail  Jesus 
Christ  as  "King  of  kings  and  Lord  of 
lords,"  who  doubts  that  we  shoud  have 
done  infinitely  more  towards  covering 
our  planet  with  all  the  dignities  and  de- 
cencies of  civilized  life  than  by  cen- 
turies of  endeavor  to  humanize  barbarism 
without  molesting  sujierstition  ?  We  are 
clear  as  upon  a  point  which  needs  no  ar- 
gument, because  ascertained  by  experi- 
ence, and  which,  if  not  proved  by  ex- 
perience, might  be  established  by  irre- 
sistible argument,  that,  in  teaching  a  na- 
tion the  religion  of  Christ,  we  teach  it  the 
principles  of  government,  which  will  give 
it  fixedness  as  an  empire,  the  sciences 
which  will  multiply  the  comforts,  and  the 
truths  which  will  elevate  the  character, 
of  its  population.  Thoroughly  to  chris- 
tianize would  be  thoroughly  to  regener- 
ate a  land.  And  the  poor  missionary, 
who,  in  the  simplicity  of  his  faith,  and 
the  fervour  of  his  zeal,  throws  himself  in- 
to the  waste  of  paganism,  and  there, 
with  no  apparent  mechanism  at  his  dis- 
posal for  altering  the  condition  of  a  sav- 
age community,  labors  at  making  Christ 
known  to  idolaters — why,  we  say  of  this 
intrepid  wrestler  with  ignorance,  that, 
in  toiling  to  save  the  souls,  he  is  toiling 
to  develope  the  intellectual  powers,  re- 
form the  policy,  and  elevate  in  every  re- 
spect the  rank  of  the  beings  who  engage 
his  solicitudes.  The  day  on  which  a 
province  of  Africa  hearkened  to  his  sum- 
mons, started  from  its  moral  debasement, 
and  acknowledged  Jesus  as  its  Saviour, 
w(juld  l)e  also  the  day  on  which  that 
province  overstepped  one  half  the  inter- 
val by  whicli  it  had  been  separated  from 
civilized  Europe,  and  went  on,  as  v/ith 
a  giant's  stride,  towards  its  due  place 
amongst  nations. 

So  that  however  true  it  be,  that,  in 
sending  Christianity,  you  send  a  sword 
into  a  land,  we  will  not  for  a  moment 
harbor  the  opinion,  that  Christianity  is  no 
temporal  blessing,  if  received  by  the  in- 
habitants as  their  guide  to  immortality. 
It  is  a  sword ;  and  divided  families,  and 
clashing  parties,  will  attest  the  keenness 
and  strength  of  the  weapon.  But  then 
it  is  also  a  sword,  whoso  bright  flash 
scatters  the  darkne.ss  of  ages,  and  from 
whose  point  shriidi  away  the  corruption, 
the  cruelty,  and  the  f)aud,  which  flour- 


CHRISTIANITY  A  SWORD. 


325 


ished  in  thai  darkness  as  their  element. 
It  is  a  sword  :  and  it  must  pierce  to  the 
sundering  many  close  ties,  dissect  many 
interests,  and  lacerate  many  hearts.  But 
to  wave  this  sword  over  a  land  is  to  break 
the  spell  fastened  on  it  by  centuries  of 
ignorance  ;  and  to  disperse,  or,  at  least, 
to  disturb,  those  brooding  spirits  which 
have  oppressed  its  population,  and  kept 
down  the  energies  which  ennoble  our 
race.  And,  therefore,  are  we  nothing 
moved  by  the  accusation,  that  Christianity 
has  caused  some  portion  of  misei-y.  We 
deny  not  the  truth  of  the  charge  :  to  dis- 
prove that  truth  would  be  to  disprove 
Christianity  itself.  The  Founder  pro- 
phesied that  his  religion  would  be  a 
Bword,  and  the  accomplishment  of  the 
prophecy  is  one  of  our  evidences  that  he 
came  forth  from  God.  But  when  men 
would  go  farther,  v^^hen  they  would  ar- 
raign Christianity  as  having  increased, 
on  the  whole,  the  sum  of  human  misery, 
oh,  then  we  have  our  appeal  to  the  splen- 
did institutions  of  civilized  states,  to  the 
bulwarks  of  liberty  which  they  have 
bravely  thrown  up,  to  the  structures 
which  they  have  reared  for  the  shelter 
of  the  suffering,  and  to  their  mighty  ad- 
vancings  in  equity,  and  science,  and  good 
order,  and  greatness.  We  show  you 
the  desert  blossoming  as  the  rose,  and 
all  because  ploughed  by  the  sword  Chris- 
tianity. We  show  you  every  chain  of 
oppression  flymg  into  shivers,  and  all 
because  struck  by  the  sword  Christianity 
We  show  you  the  coffers  of  the  wealthy 
bursting  open  for  the  succor  of  the  des- 
titute, and  all  because  touched  by  the 
sword  Christianity.  We  show  you  the 
human  intellect  springing  into  manhood, 
reason  starting  from  dwarfishness,  and 
assumins^maernificence  of  stature,  and  all 
because  roused  by  the  glare  of  the  sword 
Christianity.  Ay,  if  you  can  show  us 
feuds,  and  jealousies,  and  wars,  and  mas- 
sacres, and  charge  them  home  on  Chris- 
tianity as  a  cause,  we  can  show  you 
whatsoever  is  confessed  to  minister  most 
to  the  welfare,  and  glory,  and  strength, 
and  happiness  of  society,  stamped  with 
one  broad  impress,  and  that  impress  the 
sword  Christianity  :  and,  therefore^  are 
we  bold  to  declare  that  the  amount  of 
temporal  misery  has  been  immeasura- 
bly diminished  by  the  propagation  of  the 
lehgion  of  Jesus  ;  and  that  this  sword, 
in  spite  of  produced  slaughter  and  divi- 
(jions,  has  been,  and  still  is,  as  a  golden 


sceptre,  beneath  which  the  tribes  of  our 
race  have  found  a  rest  which  heathenism 
knew  only  in  its  poetry;  a  freedom,  and 
a  security,  and  a  greatness,  which  philo- 
sophy reached  only  in  its  dreams. 

But  now,  having  examined  our  text 
as  a  prophecy,  we  are  briefly  to  investi- 
gate the  causes  which  have  turned  into 
a  sword  that  which,  in  its  own  nature, 
is  emphatically  peace.  W^e  shall  not  go 
particularly  into  the  cases  of  heathenism 
persecuting  Christianity,  and  popery  per- 
secuting jDrotestantism.  Neither  shall 
we  speak  of  the  tumults  caused  by  the 
various  heresies  which,  at  different  times 
have  sprung  up  in  the  church.  When 
men's  passions,  prejudices,  and  interests 
are  engaged  on  the  side  of  error  and 
corruption,  it  is  unavoidable  that  the  ad- 
vocates of  truth  and  j^urity  will  array 
against  themselves  hatred  and  hostility. 
But  we  will  take  the  more  ordinary 
case,  in  which  there  is  no  open  conflict 
between  theological  systems  and  sects ; 
for  this  is  perhaps  the  only  one  in  whichit 
is  at  all  strange  that  divisions  should  be 
the  produce  of  Christianity.  There  is 
nothing  about  which  men  will  not  form 
different  opinions :  there  is  scarce  an 
opinion  too  absurd  to  find  advocates  ; 
especially  when,  if  true,  it  would  be 
advantageous  ;  and  philosophy,  with  its 
various  schools,  would  be  as  much  a 
sword  as  Christianity  with  its  various 
sects,  if  as  much  were  dependent  on  its 
theories.  But  waving  these  and  other 
obvious  considerations,  let  us  see  how 
the  sword  comes,  where  there  is  no  di- 
rect collision  between  heresy  and  ortho- 
doxy. We  stated,  as  you  will  remem- 
ber, in  the  introduction  of  our  discourse, 
that  Christianity  is  a  system,  requiring 
nothing  but  a  cordial  reception,  in  order 
to  its  bringing  happiness  to  all  the 
world's  families.  The  truth  of  such 
statement  will  haye  been  evidenced,  if 
proof  can  be  required,  by  our  foregoing 
examination  of  the  effects  of  Christianity 
on  society,  We  are  warranted,  by  this 
examination,  in  asserting,  as  we  have  al- 
ready in  part  done,  that,  if  the  Gospel 
were  cordially  received  by  every  individ- 
ual in  a  land,  there  would  be  banished 
fi-om  that  land — we  say  not  all  unhappi- 
ness,  for  a  nation  of  righteous  would  still 
ne  a  nation  of  fallen  men,  and  therefore 
ie  exposed  to  sorrow  and  death — but 
rertainly  the  chief  part  of  that  misery 
which  may  be  traced  to  the  feuds  of  our 


326 


CHRISTIANITY  A  SWORD. 


race,  and  which  confessedly  constitutes 
a  great  fraction  of  human  wretchedness. 
The  tendencies  of  Christianity  are  palpa- 
bly to  the  production  of  thorough  una- 
nimity ;  so  that  no  one  who  studies  the 
character  of  this  religion,  or  observes  its 
effects  even  where  partially  established, 
can  fail,  we  think,  to  entertain  the  con- 
viction, that  a  nation  of  real  christians 
would  be  virtually  a  nation  of  afl'ection- 
ate  brothers.  But  if  the  tendencies  of 
Christianity  be  thus  to  the  producing 
peace,  we  must  suppose  that  there  are 
in  man  certain  counter  tendencies,  and 
that  the  sword  is  forged  from  the  oppo- 
sition between  the  two.  Neither  can  we 
be  at  a  loss  to  discover  those  counter 
tendencies,  and  thus  to  account  for  the 
divisions  and  persecutions  to  which 
Christianity  will  be  sure  to  give  rise, 
even  where  men  seem  agi'eed  on  its  ar- 
ticles. The  great  thing  to  be  observed 
is,  that  there  is  a  direct  contrariety  be- 
tween the  maxims  of  the  world  and  those 
of  the  Gospel.  It  is  impossible  for  a 
man  to  become  a  true  believer  in  Jesus, 
without  being  immediately  marked  off 
from  the  great  mass  of  his  fellows.  If 
the  whole  community  went  over  with 
him  to  the  discipleship  of  Christ,  he 
would  still  have  fellowship  Avith  all 
around,  though  widely  different  from 
that  which  he  has  heretofore  had.  But 
when  he  goes  over  alone,  or  with  but 
few  associates  out  of  many,  he  detaches 
himself,  and  that  too  by  a  great  wrench, 
from  the  society  to  which  he  has  belong- 
ed. Between  the  world  which  still 
''lieth  in  wickedness,"  and  that  little 
company  who  "  seek  a  better  country, 
even  a  heavenly,"  the  separation  is  so 
broad  that  Scripture  exhibits  the  one  as 
the  old  creation,  and  the  other  as  the 
new.  The  man  who  acts  on  the  piinci- 
ple  that  he  is  immortal,  belongs,  we  had 
almost  said,  to  a  different  race  from  the 
man  whose  conduct  seems  to  proclaim 
him  without  belief  in  the  deathlessness 
of  the  soul. 

And  if  Christianity,  when  cordially  re- 
ceived, thus  dflach  the  recipient  from  all 
by  whom  it  is. only  nominally  received, 
you  can  have  no  diiliculty  in  understand- 
ing how  it  acts  virtually  as  a  sword.  The 
separation  would  he  as  nothing,  if  it 
were  only  of  that  kind  which  exists  be- 
tween the  different  ranks  and  classes  of 
a  community.  You  cannot  liken  to  a 
sword    the   causes   which   separate   the 


higher  classes  from  the  lower,  because 
these  classes,  however  distant  from  each 
other  in  exteraal  advantages,  are  linked 
by  many  ties  ;  and  their  relative  positions 
do  not  necessarily  produce  hostility  of 
feeling.  But  the  case  is  widely  different 
when  it  is  vital  Christianity  which  breaks 
into  parties  any  set  of  men.  The  separ- 
ation is  a  separation  on  principles ;  so 
that  the  conduct  of  the  one  party  will 
unavoidably  reprove  that  of  the  other, 
and,  therefore,  excite  an  eiimity  which 
will  be  sure  to  show  itself  in  some  open 
demonstration. 

We  take  the  case  before  referred  to, 
that  of  a  family,  one  of  whose  members 
is  a  christian  inwardly,  whilst  the  oth- 
ers are  christians  only  outwardly.  There 
may  have  been  perfect  harmony  in  this 
family  up  to  the  time  at  which  vital 
Christianity  gained  a  place  within  its 
circle.  But,  afterwards,  there  must,  we 
fear,  be  interruption  of  this  harmony ; 
the  household  can  no  longer  present  that 
aspect  of  unanimity,  by  which  it  once 
won  the  admiiation  of  every  beholder. 
And  the  reason  of  this  change  may  be 
readily  defined.  Whilst  there  was  no- 
thing but  nominal  Christianity,  each 
member  of  the  family  did  his  part  to- 
wards countenancing  the  rest  in  attach- 
ment to  the  perishable,  and  forgetfulness 
of  the  imperishable,  and  was  upheld  in 
return  by  the  united  proceedings  of  all 
those  around  him.  There  may  have 
been  great  diversity  of  pui'suit;  the  sev- 
eral individuals  may  have  embraced 
different  professions,  and  their  respect- 
ive tastes  may  have  led  them  to  seek 
eni()ymeDt  in  unconnected  channels. 
But  forasmuch  as  they  were  all  along 
one  in  the  determination  of  finding  hap- 
piness in  something  short  of  God,  divi- 
sion ujjon  earthly  matters  might  well 
consist  with  a  most  cordial  union,  the 
agreement  being  perfect  on  the  jirinci- 
ple  that  this  woi'ld  is  man's  rest,  and  the 
disagreement  being  only  as  to  which  of 
its  sections  should  be  chosen  for  a  home. 
But  you  will  observe  that,  when  vital 
Christianity  found  its  way  into  the  breast 
of  one  member  of  this  household,  there 
must  have  passed  a  change,  such  as  no- 
thing else  could  have  effected,  on  the 
position  which  he  occupied  relatively  to 
the  others.  His  acquiring  a  taste  for 
religion,  while  the  taste  of  his  compan- 
ions is  exclusively  for  vvhat  is  worldly, 
diflbrs  widely  from  his  actjuaing  a  taste 


CHRISTIANITY  A  SWORD. 


327 


for  music,  whilst  the  taste  of  his  com- 
panions is  exclusively  for  painting.  The 
taste  for  painting  is  not  rebuked,  as  it 
were,  by  the  taste  for  music  ;  tliey  may 
be  called  sister  tastes,  and  the  votaries 
of  the  two  may  remain  in  close  fellow- 
ship. But  there  is  no  congeniality,  nay, 
there  is  the  strongest  antipathy,  between 
a  taste  for  the  things  of  heaven,  and  a 
taste  for  the  things  of  earth.  Hence  the 
religious  man,  unavoidably,  though  it 
may  be  silently,  reproaches  the  irreli- 
gious, with  whom  he  is  in  the  habit  of 
family  intercourse.  His  deportment,  ex- 
actly in  the  degree  that  it  proves  his 
affections  set  on  things  above,  passes 
the  severest  censure  on  those  whose  af- 
fections are  set  on  things  below.  And 
if  it  be  a  consequence  on  the  introduc- 
tion of  vital  Christianity,  that  one  mem- 
ber of  the  domestic  circle  becomes 
practically,  if  not  in  words,  the  reprover 
of  the  rest,  it  nmst  also  follow  that  this 
one  will  incur  the  dislike  of  the  rest,  a 
dislike  which  will  show  itself  in  more 
or  less  offensive  acts,  according  to  the 
dispositions  and  circumstances  of  those 
who  entertain  it.  Thus  it  is  that  Chris- 
tianity is  turned  into  a  sword.  Admit- 
ted into  the  heart  of  an  individual,  it 
discovers  itself  in  his  life,  and  so  makes 
that  life  a  calm,  but  unflinching,  rebuke 
of  the  unconverted,  by  its  contrast  with 
their  own.  But  such  rebuke  must  ex- 
cite enmity  in  those  who  are  its  subjects. 
So  that  the  household  is  necessarily  di- 
vided ;  and  to  Christianity  must  the  di/i- 
sion  be  ascribed.  "A  man  is  set  at 
variance  against  his  father,  and  the 
daughter  against  her  mother,  and  the 
daughter-in-law  against  her  mother-in- 
law."  The  converted  member,  being 
secretly  disliked,  will,  under  some  shape 
or  another,  be  persecuted  by  the  uncon- 
verted ;  and  thus  the  result  is  brought 
round,  that  the  religion  which  Christ 
•propagated,  though  in  its  own  nature 
peace,  becomes,  through  clashing  with 
opposing  principles,  a  sword  to  the 
family  into  which  it  gains  entrance. 

You  will  easily  extend  to  a  neighbor- 
hood, or  nation,  the  reasoning  thus  ap- 
plied to  a  family.  Those  who  hold  the 
doctrines  of  the  Gospel  in  their  purity, 
and  whose  conduct  is  regulated  by  its 
precepts,  will  unavoidably  form  a  dis- 
tinct party,  to  whicli  Christ's  words  may 
be  applied,  "  If  ye  were  of  the  world, 
the  world  would  love  his   own ;  but  be- 


cause ye  are  not  of  the  world,  but  I  have 
chosen  you  out  of  the  world,  tliercfore 
the  world  hateth  you."  The  principles 
on  which  the  righteous  act  are  so  rej^uor- 
nant  to  those  which  the  mass  of  men 
adopt,  that  to  look  for  unanimity  would 
be  to  expect  the  concord  of  darkness 
with  light.  So  long  as  there  is  a  native 
enmity  in  the  heart  to  holiness  and  God 
— and  this  will  remain  until  the  nature 
be  renewed — there  lies  a  moral  impossi- 
bility against  the  unbroken  peace  of  a 
community,  composed  of  the  righteous 
and  the  unrighteous.  They  are  men  of 
different  natures,  of  different  worlds  : 
the  one  party  has  been  transferred  to 
the  kingdom  of  Christ,  the  other  re- 
mains in  the  kingdom  of  Satan.  And 
since  there  must  be  war  between  these 
kingdoms,  a  war  which  shall  only  then 
terminate  when  evil  is  expelled  from 
this  creation,  and  the  works  of  the  devil 
are  finally  destroyed,  peace  can  pervade 
no  province  of  Christendom,  unless  that 
province  contain  nothing  but  nominal, 
or  nothing  but  vital  Christianity.  Whilst 
there  is  nothing  but  nominal  Christianity, 
there  is  peace,  the  peace  of  death ; 
whilst  nothing  but  vital,  there  is  peace, 
the  peace  of  heaven.  But  whilst  there 
is  a  mixture,  there  will  be  necessarily 
collision  between  the  two;  and,  just 
according  to  the  character  of  the  times, 
will  that  collision  produce  the  flames  of 
a  fierce  persecution,  or  the  heart-burn 
ings  of  a  silent,  but  rancorous  hatred. 
Yes,  Christianity  is  the  olive-branch ; 
but  it  falls  upon  waters,  which,  struck 
by  any  thing  pure  and  heavenly,  boil 
instantly  up  as  though  stiiTed  by  a  hur- 
ricane. Chi'istianity  is  a  dove ;  but  it 
comes  down  to  the  forest  whei-e  the 
ravenous  birds  and  the  unclean  shelter, 
and  the  gentlest  waving  of  its  wing 
rouses  the  brood  whose  haunts  seem 
invaded.  Christianity,  in  short,  is  peace  ; 
but  it  is  peace  proposed  to  rebels  with 
their  weapons  in  their  hands  ;  and  who 
knows  not,  that,  if  one  of  these  rebels 
accept,  whilst  the  others  refuse,  the 
proffered  boon,  those  who  adhere  to 
their  treason  will  turn  upon  him  who 
takes  the  oath  of  allegiance,  and  treat 
him  as  basely  recreant  to  the  cause  he 
has  espoused  1  We  require,  therefore, 
nothing  but  the  confession  that  man,  in 
his  natural  state,  is  the  enemy  of  God, 
and  that,  consequently,  there  must  be 
direct  contrariety  between  his  principles 


328 


CHKISTIAMTY  A  SWORD. 


and  those  of  a  religion  which  makes 
God  the  first  object  of  love.  This  hav- 
ing been  granted,  you  may  take  the  case 
either  of  a  nation  or  a  family,  of  empires 
broken  into  parties  and  sects,  or  of  house- 
holds where  the  flow  of  social  charities 
has  been  suddenly  arrested  ;  but  suffi- 
ciency of  producing  cause  has  been  as- 
signed, to  exjilain,  without  impeaching 
the  tendencies  of  Christianity,  why  our 
Lord's  words  have  all  along  been  verifi- 
ed, "  I  came  not  to  send  peace,  but  a 
sword." 

AVe  have  thus  examined  our  text  un- 
der different  points  of  view,  and  have 
only,  in  conclusion,  to  remark  how  strict- 
ly our  statements  harmonize  with  pro- 
phecies which  delineate  the  final  spread 
of  Christianity.  We  have  shown  you 
that  it  is  simply  because  but  partially 
received,  that  Christianity  is  practically 
a  sword  on  the  earth.  Make  the  re- 
ception universal,  and,  in  place  of  acting 
as  a  sword,  Christianity  would  bind  into 
one  all  the  households,  and  all  the  hearts 
of  human  kind.  Thus  the  tendencies 
of  the  religion  are  to  the  producing,  and, 
when  produced,  to  the  preserving  that 
glorious  state  of  things  which  is  yet 
promised  in  Scripture,  when  "nation 
shall  not  lift  up  sword  against  nation, 
neither  shall  they  learn  war  any  more  ;" 
when  "  Ephraim  shall  not  envy  .Tudah, 
and  Judah  shall  not  vex  Ephraim."  We 
can  prove  Christianity  fitted  for  the  uni- 
versal religion :  we  can  prove  also,  that, 
if  universally  received,  there  would  be 
universal  peace  and  universal  joy,  the 
millennial  day  of  a  hnig-troubled  crea- 
tion. It  may  then  even  yet  be  a  sword, 
but,  oh,  that  every  heart  were  pierced 
by  it,  and  every  family  penetrated. 
Christianity  may  cause  dissensions,  and 
we  lament  them  as  proofs  of  the  frailty 


and  corruption  of  our  nature ;  but  we 
would  not  exchange  the  dissensions  for 
the  undisturbed  quiet  of  spiritual  lethar- 
gy. We  know  them  to  be  tokens  of  life : 
where  enmity  is  excited,  godliness  is 
making  way.  And,  therefore,  we  will 
not  say,  in  the  words  of  the  prophet, 
"O  thou  sword  of  the  Lord,  how  long 
will  it  be  ere  thou  be  quiet  1  put  up 
thyself  into  thy  scabbard,  rest,  and  be 
still."  We  will  rather  say  with  the 
Psalmist  to  Messiah,  "  Gird  thy  sword 
upon  thy  thigh,  O  most  mighty;  and  in 
thy  majesty  ride  prosperousl}'."  We 
wish  no  scabbard  for  the  sword  but  the 
hearts  of  the  whole  human  population. 
Thus  sheathed,  the  jubilee  year  begins  : 
the  one  sword,  like  Aaron's  rod,  swal- 
lows up  every  other ;  and  the  universal 
wound  is  the  universal  health. 

Let  each  of  us  remember,  that,  ere 
Christianity  can  be  to  him  peace,  it  must 
be  to  him  a  sword.  The  "  broken  and 
contrite  heart"  precedes  the  assurance 
that  we  are  "  accepted  in  the  beloved." 
"O  Israel,  thou  hast  destroyed  thyself" 
Where  are  there  sharper,  more  cutting 
words  than  these,  when  spoken  by  God's 
Spirit  to  the  soul  1  "  but  in  me  is  thine 
help  found."  What  syllables  can  breathe 
more  of  hope,  of  comfort,  of  serenity  ? 
The  sword  Christianity  is  that  weapon 
which  heals  in  wounding :  there  is  bal- 
sam on  its  point,  and,  as  it  pierces,  it 
cures.  Teaching  man  to  feel  himself 
lost,  what  can  more  lacerate  the  spirit"? 
Teaching  man  that  whosoever  will  may 
be  saved  by  a  mediator,  what  balm 
can  be  more  medicinal  ?  May  God 
grant  unto  all  of  r.s,  that,  being  first 
stricken  with  a  sense  of  sin,  we  may 
be  "justified  by  faith,"  and  thus  have 
"  peace  with  God,  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ." 


SERMON    VI. 


THE  DEATH  OP  MOSES. 


'And  the  Lord  spake  unto  Moses  that  selfsame  day,  sayin<r,  Get  thee  up  into  this  mountain  Abarim,  unto  moant 
Nebo,  which  is  in  the  land  of  Moab,  that  is  over  a?ainst  Jericho  ;  and  behold  the  land  of  Canaan,  which  I  gave 
unto  the  children  of  Israel  for  a  possession;  and  die  in  the  mount  whither  thou  goest  up,  and  be  gathered  unto 
thy  people,  as  Aarou  thy  brother  died  in  mouat  Hor,  and  was  gathered  unto  his  people." — DectekonomT 
XXXII.  48,  50. 


The  long-  wanderings  of  the  Israelites 
were  now  about  to  be  concluded.  That 
wicked  generation,  which  had  provoked 
God  by  their  murmuring  and  rebellion, 
had  been  exterminated  according  to  the 
divine  threat ;  and  their  children  stood 
by  the  watei's  of  Jordan,  waiting  the 
command  to  go  over  and  expel  the  Ca- 
naanites.  The  land,  flowing  with  milk 
and  honey,  was  actually  in  view;  the  land 
wliich  had  been  promised  to  Abraham, 
Isaac,  and  Jacob ;  and  in  order  to  the 
possession  of  which  by  their  descendants, 
Egypt  had  been  desolated  with  plagues, 
and  a  mystic  pillar  of  fire  and  cloud  had 
traversed  the  wilderness.  It  was  a 
moment  of  great  excitement,  and  of 
great  triumph  :  many  must  have  looked 
impatiently  on  the  river,  which  now  alone 
divided  them  from  their  heritage,  and 
have  longed  for  the  permission  to  pass 
this  last  barrier,  and  tread  the  soil  which 
was  to  be  henceforward  their  own.  And 
who  shall  be  more  excited,  who  more 
eager  for  the  crossing  the  Jordan,  than 
the  great  leader  of  the  people,  he  who 
had  been  commissioned  to  deliver  them 
from  bondage,  and  who  had  borne  meek- 
ly with  their  insolence  and  ingratitude 
during  forty  years  of  danger  and  toil  ] 
It  was  the  only  earthly  recompense 
which  the  captain  of  Israel  could  receive, 
that,  having  been  instrumental  in  bring- 
ing the  nation  to  the  very  border  of  their 
inheritance,  he  should  behold  them  hap- 
pily settled ;  and  enjoy,  in  his  old  age, 
the  beautiful  spectacle  of  the  twelve 
tribes  dividing  amongst  themselves  the 
fields  and  the  vineyards  for  which  their 
fathers  had  longed.  Or,  if  this  were  too 
much,  and  he  must  resign  to  those 
younger  than  himself  the  leading  Israel 


to  battle  with  the  possessors  of  the  land, 
let  him,  at  least,  behold  the  rich  valleys, 
the  sunny  hills,  the  sparkling  brooks  ; 
and  thus  satisfy  himself,  by  actual  in- 
spection, of  the  goodliness  of  the  herit- 
age, the  thought  of  which  had  cheered 
him  in  a  thousand  toils  and  perils. 

But  Moses,  though  there  was  to  arise 
after  him  no  prophet  so  honored  and 
faithful ;  though  he  had  been  admitted  to 
speak  face  to  face  with  the  Lord,  and 
had  received  marks  of  divine  approbation 
granted  neither  before  nor  since  to  any 
of  our  race — Moses  had  sinned,  and  the 
incurred  penalty  had  been,  that  he  should 
not  enter  the  land  of  promise.  His  ear- 
nest desire  and  prayer  can  do  nothing 
towards  procuring  remission  of  the  sen- 
tence :  he  may  ascend  Mount  Nebo,  and 
thence  may  he  catch  a  distant  view  of 
the  spreadings  of  Canaan  :  but  he  shall 
not  cross  the  Jordan,  he  shall  not  plant 
his  foot  on  the  long-desired  Palestine. 
Strange  and  apparently  harsh  decree  ! 
The  sin  itself  had  not  seemed  extraordi- 
narily heinous  ;  yet  the  threatened  retri- 
bution is  not  to  be  escaped  :  lengthened 
and  unvaried  obedience  can  do  nothing 
when  set  against  the  solitary  offence ; 
and  the  intercessor,  who  had  so  often 
pleaded  successfully  with  God  for  the 
thousands  of  Israel,  is  denied  the  slight 
boon  which  he  ventured  to  ask  for  him- 
self. Look  on  the  assembled  congrega- 
tion :  who  doubts  that  there  are  many  in 
that  vast  gathering,  who  have  done  much 
to  provoke  the  Almighty,  who  will  carry 
into  Canaan  unsanctified  hearts  and  un- 
grateful spirits  ]  Yet  shall  they  all  go 
over  the  Jordan  :  they  shall  all  follow 
the  ark,  weighty  with  sacramental  trea- 
sures, as  the  waters  divide  before  it,  do- 
42 


}30 


THE  DEATH  OF  MOSES, 


Ing  homage  to  the  symbol  of  divinity. 
None  shall  be  left  beliinJ  but  he  who  was 
first  amongst  the  servants  of  God,  who 
would  have  felt  the  purest  joy,  and  otter- 
ed the  richest  praise,  on  entering  the 
land  whicli  had  been  promised  to  his  an- 
cestors. Aaron  was  already  dead  :  this 
father  of  the  Levitical  priesthood  had  of- 
fended with  Moses  ;  and  therefore  was  he 
denied  the  privilege  of  offering  the  first 
sacrifice  in  Canaan,  and  thus  consecrating 
as  it  were,  the  inheritance  of  the  Lord. 
And  now  must  Moses  also  be  gathered 
to  his  fathers  :  he  has  been  spared  lon- 
ger than  Aaron,  for  he  had  been  far 
more  upright  and  obedient :  he  had  been 
permitted  to  approach  much  nearer 
to  the  promised  land,  yea,  actually  to 
come  within  sight  ;  but  the  Lord  is  not 
forgetful  of  his  word  ;  and  now,  there- 
fore, comes  this  startlinrj  messasfe,  "Get 
thee  up  into  this  mountain,  and  die  in 
the  mount,  and  be  gathered  unto  thy 
people ;  as  Aaron  thy  brother  died  in 
Mount  Hor,  and  was  gathered  unto  his 
people." 

The  command  was  obeyed  without  a 
murmur.  This  man  of  God,  whose  "eye 
was  not  dim,  nor  his  natural  force  abat- 
ed," ascended  to  the  top  of  Pisgah  ;  and 
there  did  the  Lord,  miraculously  assist- 
ing his  vision,  show  him  "all  the  land  of 
Gilead,  unto  Dan,  and  all  Naphtali,  and 
the  land  of  Ephraim,  and  Manasseh,  and 
all  the  land  of  Judah  unto  the  utmost  sea, 
and  the  south,  and  the  plain  of  the  valley 
of  Jericho,  the  city  of  palm-trees,  unto 
Zoar."  This  having  been  done,  he 
breathed  out  his  soul  into  the  hands  of 
his  Maker;  and  "the  Lord  buried  him 
in  a  valley  over  against  Bethpeor;"  but 
no  human  eye  saw  this  mysterious  disso- 
lution, and  "no  man  know^th  of  his 
sepulchre  unto  this  day." 

Now  we  consider  this  as  a  very  inte- 
resting and  instructive  portion  of  sacred 
liistory,  presenting  in  large  measure  ma- 
terial for  j)rofital)le  discourse.  We  de- 
sign, therefore,  to  engage  you  with  its 
consideration  ;  and  if  the  truths  which 
we  shall  have  to  luing  before  you,  be  on- 
ly those  with  which  frequent  hearing  has 
made  you  faniibar,  they  will  be  found, 
we  think,  of  sucli  importance  as  to  war- 
rant their  being  often  repeated.  It  will 
be  necessary  that  we  examine  the  sin  of 
which  Moses  had  been  guilty,  and  which 
entailed  his  exclusion  from  Canaan.  Af- 
ter this,  wo  shall  have  to  consider  the 


peculiar  circumstances  of  his  death 
There  are  thus  two  general  divisions  un- 
der which  our  subject  will  naturally  re- 
solve itself  In  the  first  place,  we  are  to 
consider  why  God  refused  to  allow  Mo- 
ses to  pass  over  Jordan  :  in  the  second 
place,  we  are  to  give  our  attention  to  the 
narrative  of  his  ascending  Mount  Nebo, 
and  there  expiring  in  view  of  the  land 
which  he  was  not  to  enter. 

Now  you  will  remember  that,  soon  after 
the  Israelites  had  come  out  of  Egypt, 
they  were  distressed  for  water  in  the 
wilderness,  and  were  so  incensed  against 
Moses  as  to  be  almost  ready  to  stone  him. 
On  this  occasion  Moses  was  directed  by 
God  to  take  the  rod,  with  which  he  had 
wrought  such  great  wonders  in  Egypt, 
and  to  smite  the  rock  in  Horeb;  he  did 
BO,  and  forthwith  came  there  out  water 
in  abundance.  It  is  generally  allowed 
that  this  rock  in  Horeb  was  typical  of 
Christ ;  and  that  the  circumstance  of  the 
rock  yielding  no  water,  until  smitten  by 
the  rod  of  Moses,  represented  the  import- 
ant truth,  that  the  Mediator  must  re- 
ceive the  blows  of  the  law  before  he 
could  be  the  source  of  salvation  to  a 
parched  and  perishing  world.  It  is  to 
this  that  St.  Paul  refers,  when  he  says 
of  the  Jews,  "They  did  all  drink  the 
same  spiritual  drink ;  for  they  drank  of 
that  spiritual  rock  that  followed  them, 
and  that  lock  was  Christ."  It  appears 
tliat  the  watei's,  which  gushed  from  the 
rock  in  Horeb,  attended  the  Israelites 
during  the  chief  part  of  their  wanderings 
in  the  wilderness  ;  and  this  it  is  which 
we  are  to  understand,  when  the  apostle 
affirms  that  the  rock  followed  them — the 
rock  itself  did  not  follow  them,  but  the 
stream  which  had  issued  from  that  rock 
— a  beautiful  representation  of  the  fact, 
that,  if  Christ  were  once  smitten,  or  once 
sacrificed,  a  life-giving  current  would  ac- 
company continually  the  church  m  the 
wilderness.  We  do  not  read  again  of 
any  scarcity  of  water  until  thirty-seven 
years  after,  when  the  generation  which 
had  come  out  of  E^y]it  had  been  destroy- 
ed for  their  unbelief,  and  their  children 
were  about  to  enter  Canaan.  It  is  pro- 
bable that  God  then  allowed  the  suj)ply 
of  water  to  fail,  in  order  that  the  Israel- 
ites might  be  reminded  that  they  were 
miraculously  sustained,  and  taught,  what 
they  were  always  apt  to  forget,  their  de- 
pendence on  the  guardianship  of  the  Al- 
mighty.    Assuredly  they  needed  the  les- 


THE  DEATH  OF  MOSBS. 


331 


son ;  foi-  no  sooner  cUd  they  find  them- 
selves in  want  of  water,  than  tliey  show- 
ed the  same  unbelief  which  their  fathers 
had  manifested,  and,  in  place  of  meekly 
trusting  in  the  God  who  had  so  long  pro- 
vided for  their  wants,  "they  gathered 
themselves  together  against  Moses  and 
Aaron,"  and  bitterly  reviled  them  for 
having  brought  them  out  of  Egypt. 

Moses  is  bidden,  as  on  the  former  occa- 
sion, to  take  his  rod,  that  he  may  bring 
forth  water  from  the  rock.  But  you  are  to 
observe  carefully  the  difference  between 
the  command  now  given  him,  and  that 
which  had  been  delivered  in  Horeb.  In 
the  latter  instance,  God  had  distinctly  said 
to  him,  "  Behold,  I  will  stand  before  thee 
there  upon  the  rock  in  Horeb,  and  thou 
shalt  smite  the  rock,  and  there  shall  come 
water  out  of  it,  that  the  people  may 
drink."  But  in  the  present  instance  the 
direction  is,  "  Speak  ye  unto  the  rock 
before  their  eyes,  and  it  shall  give  forth 
his  water."  In  the  one  case,  Moses  was 
expressly  commanded  to  smite  the  rock ; 
in  the  other  he  was  as  expressly  com- 
manded only  to  speak  unto  the  rock. 
And  we  cannot  but  consider  that  there 
was  something  very  significant  in  this. 
The  rock,  as  we  have  supposed,  typified 
Christ,  who  was  to  be  once  smitten  by 
the  rod  of  the  law,  but  only  once  ;  seeing 
that  "  by  one  offering  he  had  perfected 
for  ever  them  that  are  sanctified."  Hav- 
ing been  once  smitten,  there  is  nothing 
needed,  in  any  after  dearth,  but  that  this 
rock  should  be  spoken  to  ;  prayer,  if  we 
may  use  the  expression,  A%all  open  the 
pierced  side  of  the  Lamb  of  God,  and 
cause  fresh  flowings  of  that  stream  which 
is  for  the  cleansing  of  the  nations.  Hence 
it  would  have  been  to  violate  the  integrity 
and  beauty  of  the  type,  that  the  rock 
should  have  been  smitten  again  ;  it  would 
have  been  to  represent  a  necessity  that 
Christ  should  be  twice  sacrificed,  and 
thus  to  darken  the  whole  Gospel  scheme. 
Yet  this  it  was  which  Moses  did  ;  and, 
in  doing  this,  he  greatly  displeased  God. 
We  have  shown  you  that  the  command 
to  Moses  and  Aaron  was  most  distinct, 
"  Speak  ye  unto  the  rock  before  their 
eyes."  But  when  we  come  to  see  how 
the  command  was  obeyed,  we  read  as  fol- 
lows :  "  And  Moses  and  Aaron  gathered 
the  congregation  together  before  the 
rock ,  and  he  said  unto  them.  Hear  now, 
ye  rebels,  must  we  fetch  you  water  out  of 
this  rock  1    And  Moses  lifted  up  his  hand, 


and  with   his   rod   he    smote   the   rock 
twice." 

Can  you  fail,  my  brethren,  to  see  that 
herein  Moses  sinned  grievously  1  It  is 
evident  that  he  was  chafed  and  irritated 
in  spirit ;  his  language  shows  this,  "  hear 
now,  ye  rebels  :"  rebels  indeed  the  Isra- 
elites were  ;  but  it  was  manifestly  in  a 
burst  of  human  passion,  rather  than  of 
holy  indignation,  that  Moses  here  used 
the  term.  And,  then,  observe  how  he  pro- 
ceeds— "  Must  we  fetch  you  water  out 
of  this  rock  V  What  are  ye,  O  Moses 
and  Aai'on,  that  you  should  speak  as 
though  the  virtue  were  in  you,  when  you 
are  men  of  like  passions  and  feebleness 
with  oui'selves  1  The  Psalmist,  when 
giving  us  the  history  of  his  nation  during 
their  sojourning  in  the  wilderness,  might 
well  describe  Moses  as  provoked,  on 
this  occasion,  to  hasty  and  intemperate 
speech.  "  They  angertjd  God  also  at  the 
waters  of  strife,  so  that  it  went  ill  with 
Moses  for  their  sakes,  because  they  pro- 
voked his  spiiit,  so  that  he  spake  unad- 
visedly with  his  lips." 

But  this  was  not  the  whole,  and  per- 
haps not  the  chief  of  his  offence.  In 
place  of  doing  only  as  he  had  been  bid- 
den, in  speaking  to  the  rock,  he  lifted 
up  his  hand  and  smote  the  rock,  yea, 
smote  it  twice.  Was  this  merely  in  the 
irritation  of  the  moment,  or  in  actual  un- 
belief] Did  he  only  forget  the  com- 
mand ;  or  did  he  fear  that  a  simple  word 
would  not  suffice,  seeing  that  on  the  for- 
mer occasion,  the  rock  yielded  no  water 
until  smitten  by  the  rod  ]  Probably 
there  was  a  measure  of  distrust;  he  would 
hardly  else  have  sti'uck  twice;  and  faith 
was  not  likely  to  be  in  vigoious  exercise 
when  an  unholy  wrath  had  possession  of 
his  mind.  And  thus  the  lawgiver  dis- 
played passion,  and  arrogance,  and  un- 
belief: passion,  in  that  he  addressed  the 
multitude  in  the  language  of  an  irritated 
man ;  arrogance,  in  that  he  spake  as 
though  his  own  power  were  to  bring  forth 
the  water ;  unbelief,  in  that  he  smote 
where  he  had  been  commanded  only  to 
speak.  It  seems  probable  that  it  was  the 
unbelief  which  specially  provoked  God  : 
for  when  he  proceeded  to  the  rebuking 
the  sin,  it  was  in  these  terms,  *  Because 
ye  believed  me  not  to  sanctify  me  in  the 
eyes  of  the  children  of  Israel." 

To  us,  accustomed,  as  we  unhappily 
are,  to  offend  more  grievously  than 
Moses,  even  when  the  utmost  had  been 


332 


THE  DEATH  OF  MOSES. 


said  in  agg^ravation  of  his  sin,  it  may  seem 
that  God  dealt  liarshly  with  his  servant, 
in  immediately  pronouncing  as  iiis  sen- 
tence, that  he  sliould  not  l)ring  the  con- 
gregation into  the  land  which  he  would 
give  them.  It  was  a  sentence  of  wliich 
Moses  himself  felt  the  severity  ;  for  he 
describes  himself  as  pleading  earnestly 
for  a  remission.  But  he  pleaded  in  vain  ; 
nay,  he  seems  to  have  been  repulsed 
with  indignation;  for  it  is  thus  that  he 
describes  the  issue  of  his  supplication  : 
"But  the  Lord  w-as  wroth  with  me  for 
your  sakes,  and  would  not  hear  me  ;  and 
the  Lord  said  unto  me.  Let  it  suffice 
thee,  speak  no  more  unto  me  of  this  mat- 
ter." Let  it,  however,  be  remembered, 
that  the  eyes  of  all  Israel  were  now  upon 
Moses  and  Aaron ;  and  that,  the  more 
exalted  their  station,  and  the  more  emi- 
nent their  piety,  the  more  requisite  was 
it  that  God  should  mark  their  offence ; 
thus  proving  that  he  will  not  tolerate  sin 
even  in  those  whom  he  most  loves  and 
approves.  It  is  not  because  a  man 
stands  high  in  the  favor  of  his  Maker, 
that  he  may  expect  to  escape  the  tem- 
poral retributions  of  a  fault;  on  the  con- 
trary, since  he  is  not  to  sustain  its  eternal 
retributions,  there  is  the  greater*  reason 
why  the  temporal  should  not  be  remitted ; 
for  if  they  were,  his  sin  would  be  wholly 
unvisited,  and  therefore  apparently  over- 
looked by  God.  And  though  indeed 
Moses  had  been  singularly  faithful  and 
obedient,  who  can  fail  to  perceive  that 
the  uncommonness  of  his  fault  would 
only  have  made  his  being  unpunished 
more  observable  ;  whereas  it  gave  on  the 
other  hand,  opportunity  for  a  most  im- 
pressive lesson,  as  to  God's  hatred  of  sin, 
and  his  resolve  that  it  shall  never  go  un- 
recompensed?  The  whole  congrdgation 
had  seen  the  sin  committed;  had  they 
seen  it  also  unnoticed  by  God,  they 
might  have  argued  that  impatience  and 
unbelief  were  excusable  in  certain  per- 
Bons,  or  under  certain  provocations. 
But  when  they  found  that  Aaron  was 
to  die  on  Mount  Hor,  and  Moses  on 
Mount  Nebo,  because  they  had  not  be- 
lieved God  to  sanctify  him  in  their  eyes, 
they  were  tccg'it  even  mf)re  impressively 
than  by  ary  thing  which  had  happened 
to  themselves  or  their  fathers,  that  sin 
necessarily  moves,  under  all  cii'cum- 
Btances,  the  v/rath  of  the  Almighty  ;  that 
no  amount,  whether  of  previous  or  after 
righteousness,  can  compensate   for   the 


smallest  t-ansgression  ;  and  that  emi- 
nence as  a  saint,  rather  insures  than 
averts  sorce  penal  visitation,  if  there  be 
the  least  swerving  from  the  strict  line  of 
duty. 

And  the  lesson  should  lose  none  of  its 
imprcssiveness  because  delivered  ages 
back,  and  under  a  dispensation  which  had 
more  of  temporal  sanctions  than  our  own. 
If  I  would  judge  the  evil  nature  of  unbe- 
lief, if  I  would  estimate  how  the  least  dis- 
trust of  his  word  provokes  the  Most  High, 
I  know  not  on  what  I  can  better  fix  my 
attention  than  on  Moses  arrested  on  the 
very  threshold  of  Canaan,  because,  on  a 
solitary  occasion,  when  moreover  there 
was  much  to  incense  him.  he  had  shown 
want  of  confidence  in  God,  and  over- 
stepped the  limits  of  a  command.  The 
thousands  who  fell  in  the  wilderness 
"  because  of  unbelief,"  warn  me  not  so 
emphatically  as  this  single  individual, 
shut  out  from  the  promised  land.  They 
were  bold  and  dissolute  men  :  often  and 
fiercely  did  they  provoke  God  in  the 
desert.  But  he  was  the  very  meekest 
on  the  earth  :  his  face,  it  may  be,  still 
shone  with  celestial  radiance,  as  when 
he  descended  from  communing  with  God 
on  the  mount :  and  I  do  not  know  that 
there  is  another  registered  instance, 
during  all  the  years  which  had  elapsed 
since  the  coming  out  of  Egypt,  in  which 
he  had  displayed  the  least  deficiency  in 
faith.  Does  he  not  then  furnish  a  most 
signal  demonstration,  that  unbelief,  in 
every  degree  and  with  every  palliation, 
stores  up  against  us  matter  of  accusa- 
tion ;  and  that,  if  we  will  not  simply  take 
God  at  his  word,  act  on  his  precepts, 
and  leave  him  to  make  good  his  prom- 
ises, we  expose  ourselves  to  his  heavy 
indignation,  and  must  look  for  nothing 
but  the  fulfilment  of  his  threatenings? 
Let  us  be  assured  that  God  does  not 
overlook,  but  rather  accurately  notes, 
with  full  intent  to  recompense,  those 
doubtings  and  mistrustings  which  aro 
often  found  in  the  best  of  his  servarjVs  ; 
and  that,  if  he  do  not  at  the  instant 
punish  his  people,  when  they  follow  not 
implicitly  Irts  bidding,  it  is  not  because 
he  thinks  little  of  the  offence,  but  be- 
cause he  sees  fit  to  defer  the  retribution. 
A  id  if  any  one  of  you  would  plead  that 
it  is  very  hard  to  be  simply  obedient, 
that  reason  will  come  in  with  its  sug- 
gestions, and  that  then  it  is  intensely  dif- 
ficult to  adhere  strictly  to  revelation  j  if 


THE  DEATH  OP  MOSES. 


333 


fle  would  think  it  some  excuse  for  the 
defects  of  his  faith,  that 'he  is  taken  by 
surprise,  or  placed  in  trying  circum- 
stances, or  is  constitutionally  anxious, 
or  generally  firm — we  send  him  to  be- 
hold Moses,  eager  to  enter  Canaan,  and 
almost  wirhin  its  borders,  and  neverthe- 
less commanded  to  ascend  Mount  Nebo 
to  die  ;,and  we  think  that  he  will  hardly 
venture  to  make  light  hereafter  of  the 
least  distrust  of  God,  when  he  finds  that 
this  eminent  saint  expired  on  the  very 
margin  of  the  promised  inheritance,  just 
because,  in  a  moment  of  unbelief,  he 
had  smitten  the  rock  to  which  he  had 
been  directed  only  to  speak. 

Such  then  was  the  offence  of  Moses  : 
an  offence  which  we  are  perhaps  dispos- 
ed to  underrate,  because  prone  ourselves 
to  impatience  and  unbelief;  and  of  which, 
as  probably,  we  overrate  the  punishment, 
not  considering  that  the  chastisement  was 
altogether  temporal.  It  is  true  that  God 
was  angry  with  Moses,  and  that  he  show- 
ed his  anger  by  disappointing  one  of  his 
most  cherished  hopes  :  but  the  anger 
was  exhausted  in  the  one  degree,  that 
he  must  die  upon  Nebo  ;  for  this  moun- 
tain was  to  be  as  the  gate  to  paradise. 

Let  us  now  however  examine  the  par- 
ticulars which  ai"e  narrated  in  our  text 
of  the  departure  of  Moses.  The  sentence 
had  been,  that  Moses  should  not  bring 
the  congregation  into  Canaan,  Its  liter- 
al execution  did  not  forbid  his  approach- 
ing to  the  very  confines  of  the  land,  nor 
his  being  allowed  to  look  upon  its  prov- 
inces. And  accordingly  God,  who  al- 
ways tempers  judgment  with  mercy, 
though  he  would  not  remit  the  sentence, 
gave  his  servant  as  much  indulgence  as 
consisted  with  its  terms,  suffering  him 
to  advance  to  the  very  edge  of  the  Jor- 
dan, and  then  directing  him  to  a  moun- 
tain whence  he  might  gaze  on  large  dis- 
tricts of  the  expected  inheritance.  Still 
the  hour  is  come  when  Moses  inust  die, 
however  graciously  it  may  be  ordered, 
that,  though  he  is  to  depart  out  of  life 
because  he  had  displeased  God,  his  de- 
parture shall  be  soothed  by  tokens  of 
favor.  There  is  a  strange  mixture  of 
severity  and  gentleness  in  the  command, 
"  Get  thee  up  into  this  mountain,  and 
behold  the  land  of  Canaan,  and  die  in  the 
mount  whither  thou  goest  up."  There 
is  severity — thou  must  die,  though  thou 
art  yet  in  full  strength,  with  every  pow- 
er, wl:ether  of  mind  or  of  body,  unimpair 


ed.  But  there  is  also  gentleness — thou 
must  die;  but  yet  thou  shalt  not  close 
thine  eyes  upon  the  wojld  until  they 
have  been  gladdened  by  a  sight  of  the 
valleys  ar.d  mountains  which  Israel 
shall  possess. 

Yet  it  is  neither  the  severity,  nor  the 
gentleness,  which  is  most  ohsei'vable  in 
the  passage  :  it  is  the  sitnple,  easy  man- 
ner in  which  the  command  is  given. 
"  Go  up  and  die."  Had  God  been  bid- 
ding Moses  to  a  banquet,  or  directing 
him  to  perform  the  most  ordinary  duty, 
he  could  not  have  spoken  more  familiar- 
ly, or  with  less  indication  of  requiring 
what  was  painful  or  difficult.*  And  in 
truth  it  was  no  hardship  to  Moses  to  die. 
He  had  deliberately  "  esteemed  the  re- 
proach of  Christ  greater  riches  than  all 
the  treasures  in  Egypt,"  and  had  long 
"had  respect  unto  the  recompense  of  the 
reward."  And  though  he  would  fain 
have  lived  a  while  longer,  to  complete 
the  work  at  which  he  had  labored  for 
years,  he  knew  that  to  die  would  be 
to  enter  a  land,  of  which  Canaan,  with 
all  its  brightness,  was  but  a  dim  type. 
Therefore  could  God  speak  to  him  of 
dying,  just  as  he  would  have  spoken  of 
taking  rest  in  sleep :  as  though  there 
could  be  nothing  fi)rmidable  in  the  act 
of  dissolution,  nothing  from  which  hu- 
man nature  might  shrink.  Yet  we  could 
not  have  wondered,  had  Moses  manifest- 
ed reluctance ;  for  it  was  in  a  mysterious, 
and  almost  fearful  manner,  that  he  was 
to  depart  out  of  life.  It  is,  in  all  cases, 
a  solemn  thing  to  die ;  and  our  nature, 
when  gathering  itself  up  for  the  act  of 
dissolution,  seems  to  need  all  the  prayers 
and  kindnesses  of  friends,  that  it  may  be 
enabled  to  meet  the  last  enemy  with 
composure.  The  chamber  in  which  a 
good  man  dies,  is  ordinai-ily  occupied 
by  affectionate  relatives ;  they  stand 
round  his  bed,  to  watch  his  every  look, 
and  catch  his  every  word  :  they  whisper 
him  encouraging  truths,  and  they  speak 
cheeringly  of  the  better  land  to  which 
he  is  hastening,  though  they  may  often 
be  obliged  to  turn  away  the  face,  lest  he 
should  be  grieved  by  the  tears  w^hich 
their  own  loss  extorts.  And  all  this  de- 
tracts somewhat  from  the  terror  of  dying. 
It  is  not,  that,  if  the  dying  man  were 
alone,  God  could  not  equally  sustain 
him  by  the  consolations  of  his    grace. 

*Bishop  Hall. 


334 


THE  DEATH  OF  MOSES. 


But  it  is  that  there  is  something  in  the 
visible  instrumentality,  whicli  is  specially 
adapted  to  our  nature  :  we  are  disposed 
to  the  leaning  upon  sensible  aids,  so  that, 
whilst  yet  in  the  flesh,  we  can  scarce 
commit  ourselves  to  spiritual  agency. 
Take  away  all  the  relatives  and  friends 
from  the  sick  room,  and  is  there  not  a 
scene  of  extraordinary  desolateness,  a 
scene  from  which  every  one  of  us  re- 
coils, and  wliich  presents  to  the  mind 
such  a  picture  of  desertion,  that  the 
thought  of  its  being  our  own  lot  would 
suffice  to  embitter  the  rest  of  our  days  1 
Yet  it  was  alone  that  Moses  was  to 
die  :  no  friend  was  to  accompany  him  to 
Pisgah  ;  no  relative  was  to  be  near  when 
he  breathed  out  his  soul.  "Get  thee  up 
into  this  mountain,  and  die  there." 
Strange  death-bed,  which  I  am  thus  or- 
dered to  ascend  !  Mine  eye  is  not  dim- 
med, my  strength  is  not  broken — what 
fierce  and  sudden  sickness  will  seize  me 
on  that  mount]  Am  I  to  linger  there 
in  unalleviated  pain  1  and  then,  when 
my  soul  at  length  struggles  free,  must 
my  body  be  left,  a  dishonored  thing,  to 
be  preyed  on  by  the  beasts  of  the  field, 
and  the  fowls  of  the  air  ?  Would  you 
pot  have  expected  that  thoughts  such  as 
these  would  have  crowded  and  distress- 
ed the  mind  of  the  great  lawgiver,  on 
receiving  the  direction  of  our  text  1  I 
caimot  find  words  to  express  to  you  what 
I  think  of  the  mysteriousness  and  awful- 
iiess  of  the  scene  through  which  Moses 
had  to  pass.  To  separate  himself  from 
the  people  to  whom  he  was  tenderly  at- 
tached ;  to  ascend,  without  a  single 
companion,  the  mountain  from  which 
he  was  never  to  return ;  to  climb  the 
lofty  summit  for  the  express  purpose 
of  there  grappling  with  death,  though 
he  knew  not  with  what  terrors,  nor  un- 
der what  shape ;  to  go,  in  his  unabated 
vigor,  that,  on  a  wild  spot,  alone  with 
his  Creator,  he  might  be  consumed  by 
slow  disease,  or  rapt  away  in  a  whirl- 
wind, or  stricken  down  by  lightning — 
I  feel  as  though  it  had  been  less  trying, 
had  he  been  summoned  to  a  martyr's 
death,  to  ascend  the  scaffold  in  place  of 
the  mountain,  and  to  brave  the  cries  of 
blof)dthirsty  jjersecutors  instead  of  the 
loneliness,  the  brealhlessness,  of  the 
summit  of  I'isgah.  And  never  does 
Moses  wear  to  me  such  an  air  of  moral 
sublimity,  as  when  1  contemj)late  him 
leaving  the  camp,  for  the  express  pur- 


pose of  resigning  his  soul  into  the  hands 
of  his  Maker.  Never  does  his  faith  seem 
to  me  so  signal,  so  sorely  tried,  nor  so 
finely  triumphant.  I  gaze  on  him  with 
awe,  as,  with  the  rod  of  God  in  his  hand, 
he  stands  before  Pharaoh,  and  appals 
the  proud  monarch  by  the  prodigies  which 
he  works.  And  there  is  a  fearful  mag- 
nificence in  his  aspect,  as,  with  out- 
stretched arm,  he  plants  himself  on  the 
Red  Sea's  shore,  and  bids  its  waters 
divide,  that  the  thousands  of  Israel  may 
march  through  on  dry  land.  Yea,  and 
who  can  look  on  him  without  emotions 
of  wonder,  and  almost  of  dread,  as  he  as- 
cends Mount  Sinai,  whilst  the  fire  and 
thunder  of  the  Lord  strike  terror  into  the 
hearts  of  the  congregation,  that  he  may 
commune  in  secret  with  God,  and  re- 
ceive from  his  lips  enactments  and  stat- 
utes 1  But,  on  these  and  the  like  occa- 
sions, the  very  circumstances  in  which 
he  was  placed,  were  calculated  to  animate 
the  leader ;  and  when  we  think  on  the 
mighty  powers  with  which  he  was  en- 
dowed, we  can  scarce  feel  surprise  that 
he  should  have  borne  himself  so  heroical- 
ly. The  great  trial  of  faith  was  not  in 
the  waving  or  striking  with  a  rod  which 
had  often  shown  its  mastery  over  natuT-e  ; 
neither  was  it  in  the  ascending  a  moun- 
tain, from  which  he  expected  to  return 
with  fit  laws  for  the  government  of  a  tur- 
bulent multitude.  It  was  the  laying 
down  of  the  miraculous  rod  which  re- 
quired vast  faith ;  and  the  splendid 
courage  was  shown  in  the  climbing  a 
summit,  where,  with  the  rock  for  his 
couch,  and  the  broad  heaven  for  his  roof, 
and  far  from  all  human  companionship, 
he  was  to  submit  himself  to  the  sentence, 
"Dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust  thou  shalt 
return." 

And  therefore,  we  again  say,  that,  if 
we  would  survey  Moses  in  his  grandeur, 
when  his  moral  majesty  is  most  conspic- 
uous, and  the  faith  and  boldness  of  a  true 
servant  of  God  commend  themselves 
most  to  our  imitation,  then  it  is  not  when 
he  breaks  the  chains  of  a  long-enslaved 
people,  and  not  when  he  conducts  a 
swarming  multitude  through  the  wilder 
ness,  and  not  when  he  is  admitted  into 
intimate  communings  with  the  Almighty, 
that  he  should  fix  our  attention — it  is  ra- 
ther when  he  departs  from  the  camp 
without  a  solitary  attendant,  and  we 
know  that,  as  he  climbs  the  steep  ascent, 
perhaps  pausing   at  times  that  he  may 


THE  DEATH  OP  MOSES. 


335 


look  yet  again  on  the  people  whom,  not- 
withstanding their  ingratitude,  he  tender- 
ly loved,  he  is  obeying  the  strange  and 
thrilling  command,  "Get  thee  up  into 
this  mountain,  and  there  die,  and  be  ga- 
thered to  thy  people." 

We  cannot  follow  Moses  in  this  his 
mysterious  journey.  We  know  not  the 
particulars  of  what  occurred  on  the  sum- 
rait  of  Pisgah  ;  and  where  revelation  is 
silent,  it  does  not  become  us  to  offer  con- 
jectures. We  are  only  informed  that 
the  Lord  showed  him  great  part  of  the 
land  of  Canaan,  and  then  said  unto  him, 
"  I  have  caused  thee  to  see  it  with  thine 
eyes,  but  thou  shalt  not  go  over  thither." 
And  here,  just  where  curiosity  is  most 
strongly  excited — for  who  does  not  long 
2o  know  the  exact  mode  in  which  Moses 
departed  out  of  life,  to  be  present  at  his 
last  scene,  and  observe  his  dismissal  1 — 
the  narrative  is  closed  with  the  simple 
announcement,  "  So  Moses  the  servant 
of  the  Lord  died  there  in  the  land  of 
Moab,  according  to  the  word  of  the 
Lord."  But  we  know,  at  least,  that  God 
was  with  his  servant  in  this  hour  of 
strangeness  and  loneliness,  and  that, 
when  Moses  lay  down  to  die,  he  had 
been  abundantly  cheered  by  visions 
vouchsafed  him  of  the  long-promised 
Canaan.  And  shall  we  think  that  Moses 
died  contented  and  happy,  just  because 
his  eye  had  rested  on  the  waters  of  Jor- 
don,  and  causfht  the  wavinars  of  the  ce- 
dars  of  Lebanon  ?  Was  it  merely  by 
gazing  on  the  natural  landscape  that  the 
man  of  God  was  cheered  ;  and  was  no- 
thing done  for  him  but  the  causing  val- 
leys that  laughed  with  abundance,  and 
heights  that  were  crested  with  beauty, 
to  gather  themselves  into  one  glorious 
panorama,  as  the  inheritance  which  had 
been  promised  to  the  children  of  Abra- 
ham 1  We  can  scarcely  think  this.  We 
may  believe  that  the  desire  of  Moses  to 
enter  into  Canaan  was  a  spiritual  desire  : 
with  Canaan  he  associated  a  fuller  revela- 
tion of  the  Christ :  and  he  may  have 
thought,  that,  admitted  into  the  land, 
which  in  tlie  fulness  of  time  would  be 
trodden  by  Messiah,  he  should  learn 
more  of  that  Redeemer  of  the  world  than 
he  had  been  able  to  gather  from  existing 
prophecies  and  types. 

In  his  own  prayer  to  God,  depreca- 
ting the  sentence  which  his  impatience 
and  unbelief  had  provoked,  he  spake  as 
though  there  were  one  spot  which  he  j 


specially  wished  to  be  permitted  to  be- 
hold. "I  pray  thee,  let  mc  go  over,  and 
see  that  good  land  that  is  beyond  .Jordan, 
that  goodly  mountain,  and  Lebanon." 
"  That  goodly  mountain " — were  his 
thoughts  on  Mount  Moriah,  where  Abra- 
ham had  offered  up  Isaac,  and  which 
was  to  be  the  scene  of  a  sacrifice  of 
which  this  had  been  only  a  figure  1  Was 
it  Zion  on  which  he  was  eager  to  gaze, 
as  knowing,  that,  on  a  far  distant  day,  it 
would  be  hallowed  by  the  footsteps,  and 
witness  the  sorrows  of  the  prophet, 
whose  coming  he  had  himself  been  com- 
missioned to  foretell  ]  Indeed,  we  again 
say,  we  can  hardly  think  that  it  was  sim- 
ply the  wish  of  beholding  the  rich  land- 
scape of  Canaan,  its  fountains  and 
brooks,  and  olives  and  vines,  which  ac- 
tuated Moses  when  imploring  permission 
to  pass  over  Jordan.  He  knew  that  in 
this  land  was  to  be  accomplished  the 
original  promise ;  that  there  was  the 
seed  of  the  woman  to  bruise  the  ser- 
pent's head.  He  knew  that  in  this  land 
would  that  Deliverer  appear  for  whom 
patriarchs  had  longed,  and  of  whom  he 
was  himself  a  signal  type — the  Deliverer 
in  whom  he  felt  that  all  his  hopes  cen- 
tred, but  whose  office  and  person  could 
be  only  feebly  learned  from  revelations 
already  vouchsafed.  And  why  may  it 
not  have  been,  that  Moses  longed  to 
tread  Canaan,  because  his  mind  already 
peopled  it  with  the  august  occurrences 
of  coming  ages  ?  even  as  to  ourselves 
would  Palestine  be  a  scene  of  surpassing 
interest,  not  because  its  mountains  may 
be  noble,  and  its  valleys  lovely;  but 
but  because  haunted  by  the  memory  of 
all  that  is  precious  to  a  christian,  because 
every  breeze  would  there  seem  to  us  to 
waft  the  words  of  Christ,  and  every 
flower  to  be  nurtured  with  his  blood,  and 
evei-y  spot  to  be  hallowed  by  his  pre- 
sence 1  To  Moses  it  must  have  been 
through  anticipated,  whereas  to  us  it 
would  be  through  remembered  events, 
that  the  land  of  Judea  might  thus  preach 
by  its  every  hill,  and  fountain,  and  tree. 
But  the  trains  and  processions  of  pro- 
phecy were  as  splendid,  though  not  as 
distinct,  as  are  now  those  of  history  ; 
and  if  the  lawgiver,  privileged  to  search 
into  the  future,  and  behold  in  mystic 
shadows  the  redemption  of  humankind, 
could  not  associate,  as  we  ourselves  can, 
various  scenes  with  the  various  transac- 
tions in  which  sinners  have  interest,  he 


336 


THE  DEATH  OF  MOSES. 


might  at  least  connect  the  whole  land  of 
Canaan  witli  tlie  promised  rescue  of  our 
race,  and  rocrard  all  its  spreadings  as 
"holy  ground,"  like  that  wliich  surround- 
ed the  burning  bush  in  Horeb.  And  as 
we  ourselves,  carrying  with  us  the  re- 
membrance of  all  that  wac  done  "for  us 
men  and  for  our  salvation,"  might  feel 
that  to  visit  Judea  would  be  to  strength- 
en our  faith  and  warm  our  piety — seeing 
that  dead  indeed  must  be  the  heart 
which  would  not  beat  higher  in  the  gar- 
den of  Gethsemane,  and  on  the  mount 
of  Calvary — so  may  Moses,  borne  on- 
ward by  the  prophetic  impulse,  have  felt 
that  it  would  be  to  awaken  loftier  emo- 
tions, and  obtain  clearer  views,  to  enter 
and  walk  the  land  which  was  finally  to 
be  consecrated  by  the  presence  of  the 
Shiloh. 

For  this  it  may  have  been  that  the 
lawgiver  so  intently  longed  to  pass  the 
Jordan.  And  when  he  stood  on  the 
summit  of  I'i.sgah,  and  God  showed  him 
the  land,  it  may  have  been  by  the  revela- 
tion of  mysteries,  which  he  had  ardently 
desired  to  penetrate,  that  his  spirit  was 
cheered,  and  death  stripped  of  all  tenor. 
He  looked  from  the  mountain-top  o'er 
many  a  luxuriant  scene ;  but  as  plain,  and 
vineyard,  and  town,  and  river,  were  made 
to  pass  before  his  view,  God,  who  is  ex- 
pressly declared  to  have  been  with  him 
to  instruct  him,  may  have  taught  him  how 
each  spot  would  be  associated  with  the 
great  work  of  human  deliverance.  His 
eye  is  upon  Bethlehem  ;  but,  lo,  already 
a  mystic  star  hangs  over  the  solitary  vil- 
lage ;  and  he  learns  something  of  the 
force  of  the  prediction  which  himself  had 
recorded,  "  There  shall  come  a  star  out 
of  Jacob,  and  a  sceptre  shall  rise  out 
of  Israel."  The  waters  of  a  lake  are 
heaving  beneath  him  ;  but,  lo,  a  human 
form  is  walking  the  agitated  surface ; 
and  he  is  taught  that  as  Noah,  whose 
history  he  had  related,  was  sheltered  in 
the  ark,  so  shall  all,  who  will  turn  from 
iniquity,  find  safety  in  a  Being  whom  no 
storms  can  overwhelm,  and  no  waves  in- 
gulph.  And  now  a  mountain  is  seen, 
but  not  lit  up,  as  the  panorama  had  hith- 
erto been,  by  the  joyous  shinings  of  the 
sun ;  awful  clouds  hang  around  it  and 
over  it,  as  thougli  it  weie  the  scene  of 
Bome  tragedy  which  nature  shrank  from 
beholding.  'J'his  rivets  the  lawgiver's 
gaze;  it  is  the  "goodly  mountain" 
which  he  had  prayed  that  he  might  see. 


And  there  is  a  cross  upon  its  summit ; 
greater  than  Isaac  is  bound  to  the  altar; 
the  being,  whom  he  had  seen  upon  the 
waters,  is  expiring  in  agony.  The  trans- 
actions of  the  great  day  of  atonement  arei" 
thus  explained ;  the  mystery  of  the  scape- 
goat is  unfolded  ;  and  Moses,  taught  tho 
meaning  of  types  which  himself  had  been 
directed  to  institute,  is  ready  to  exclaim, 
"Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  de- 
part in  peace,  for  mine  eyes  have  eeen 
thy  salvation." 

Thus  it  may  have  been,  that,  ere 
Moses  departed  out  of  life,  God  not  only 
showed  him  the  promised  land,  but  made 
it  a  kind  of  parable  of  redemption.  And, 
on  this  supposition,  we  may  well  under- 
stand why  Moses  was  so  eager  to  see 
Canaan  before  he  died,  and  why  the  sight 
should  have  been  instrumental  to  the 
making  him  die  happy.  Yes,  I  cannot 
but  feel,  as  I  follow  Moses  in  thought  to 
the  summit  of  Pisgah,  that  the  man  of 
God  does  not  climb  that  eminence,  merely 
that  he  may  gladden  his  eye  with  a  glo- 
rious development  of  scenery,  and  satisfy 
himself,  by  actual  inspection,  of  the 
goodliness  of  the  heritage  which  Israel 
was  about  to  possess.  And  when  I  find 
that  God  himself  was  with  this  greatest 
of  prophets,  to  assist  his  vision  and  in- 
form him  as  to  the  territory  which  lay 
beneath  his  feet,  I  cannot  think  that  the 
divine  communication  referred  only  to 
the  names  of  cities,  and  the  boundaries 
of  tribes.  Rather  must  I  believe  that 
what  Moses  sought,  and  God  vouchsafed, 
was  fuller  knowledge  of  all  that  would 
be  wrought  in  Canaan  for  the  pardon  of 
sin  ;  that  as  Bethlehem,  and  Nazareth, 
and  Tabor,  and  Zion,  graved  themselves 
on  the  picture,  it  was  their  association 
with  the  promised  Messiah  which  gave 
them  interest  in  the  eye  of  the  delighted 
spectator ;  and  that,  therefoi'e,  it  was 
literally  to  prepare  Moses  for  death,  by 
showing  him  "  the  Resurrection  and  the 
Life,"  that  God  spake  unto  him,  saying, 
"  Get  thee  up  into  this  mountain,  and 
behold  the  land  of  Canaan,  and  die  there, 
and  be  gathered  unto  thy  fathers." 

And  there  did  Moses  die  ;  his  spirit 
entered  into  the  separate  state,  and  no 
human  friends  were  near  to  do  the  last 
honors  to  his  remains.  But  God  would 
not  desert  the  body,  any  more  than  the 
soul  of  his  servant ;  both  were  his  by  crea- 
tion, and  both  were  to  become  doubly 
his  by  redemption.    It  is  therefore  added 


«HE  DEATH  OF  MOSEj. 


337 


to  the  strange  narra  ve — and  perhaps  it 
is  the  strangest  fact  of  all — that  "  he 
buried  him  in  a  valley  in  the  land  of 
Moab,  over  against  ljethpe(n-;  but  no 
man  knovveth  of  his  sejiulchre  unto  this 
day."  Wonderful  entombment !  no  mor- 
tal hands  dug  the  grave,  no  mortal  voices 
chanted  the  requiem  :  but  angels,  "  min- 
istering spirits,"  who  are  appointed  to 
attend  on  the  heiis  of  salvation,  com- 
posed the  limbs,  and  prepared  the  se- 
pulchre. We  refer  to  angels  this  per- 
formance of  the  last  rites  to  the  departed 
prophet,  because  it  appears  from  another, 
though  obscure,  passage  of  Scripture, 
that  angels  virere  in  some  way  the  keepers 
of  the  body  ;  for  we  read,  in  the  General 
Epistle  of  Jude,  of  "  Michael  the  arch- 
angel, when  contending  with  the  devil, 
he  disputed  about  the  body  of  Moses." 
Why  this  special  mystery  and  careful- 
ness in  regard  of  the  body  of  Moses  1 
It  has  been  supposed,  that  prone  as  the 
Israelites  were  to  idolatry,  they  might 
have  been  tempted,  had  they  known  the 
sepulchre  of  their  great  lawgiver,  to 
make  it  the  scene  of  superstitious  ob- 
servances. But  this  seems  at  least  an 
insufficient  supposition,  more  especially 
since  the  place  of  burial,  though  not  the 
exact  spot,  was  tolerably  defined,  "  a  val- 
ley in  the  land  of  Moab,  over  against  Beth- 
peor;"  quite  defined  enough  for  supersti- 
tion, had  there  been  any  wish  to  give  idol- 
atrous honors  to  the  remains  of  the  dead. 
But  you  will  all  remember  that  Moses, 
though  he  must  die  before  entering 
Canaan,  was  to  rise,  and  appear  in  that 
land,  ages  before  the  general  resurrec- 
tion. When  Christ  was  transfigured  on 
Mount  Tabor,  who  were  those  shining 
forms  that  stood  by  him,  and  "  spake  of 
the  decease  which  he  should  accomplish 
at  Jerusalem?"  Who  but  Elias  and 
Moses — Elias,  who  had  been  tratislated 
without  seeing  death,  so  that  he  had  en- 
tered, body  and  soul,  into  heaven  ;  and 
Moses,  who  had  indeed  died,  the  soul 
having  been  separated  from  the  body, 
but  w.hose  body  had  been  committed  to 
angelic  guardianship,  as  though  in  order 
that  it  might  be  ready  to  take  part  in  the 
brilliant  transaction  upon  Tabor  ?  The 
body,  which  had  been  left  upon  Pisgah, 
reappeared  upon  Tabor ;  and  evidence 
was  given,  that  those  who  lie  for  ages  in 
the  grave,  shall  be  as  glorious,  at  the 
second  coming  of  Christ,  as  those  who 
are  to  be  changed  "  in  a  moment,  in  the 


twinkling  of  an  eye."  Moses  was  the 
representative  of  the  myriads  who  shall 
rise  from  the  grave ;  Elias,  of  those, 
who,  found  alive  upon  the  earth,  shall 
be  transformed  without  seeing  death  ; 
and  forasmuch  as  the  representatives 
appeared  in  equal  splendor,  so  also,  we 
believe,  shall  the  quick  and  dead,  when 
all  that  was  typified  by  the  transfiguration 
shall  bo  accomplished  in  the  prelimina- 
ries to  the  general  judgment. 

But  we  have  no  space  to  enlarge  upon 
this.  We  must  pass  from  the  mysterious 
death  and  burial  of  Moses,  and  ask  you 
whether  you  do  not  see  that  there  are 
great  spiritual  lessons  in  the  series  of 
events  which  we  have  briefly  reviewed! 
We  need  not  tell  you  that  the  captivity 
of  Israel  in  Egypt  was  a  striking  repre- 
sentation of  the  moral  condition  of  the 
whole  human  race,  as  sold  by  sin  into 
the  service  of  a  task-master.  And  when 
the  chains  of  the  people  were  broken, 
and  God  brought  them  forth  "by  a 
mighty  hand,  and  a  stretched-out  ami," 
the  whole  transaction  was  eminently 
typical  of  our  own  emancipation  from 
bondage.  But  why  might  not  Moses, 
who  had  conunenced,  be  allowed  to  com- 
plete the  great  work  of  deliverance  1 
Why,  after  bringing  the  people  out  of 
Egypt,  might  he  not  settle  them  in 
Canaan  1  Why,  except  that  Moses  was 
but  the  representative  of  the  law,  and 
that  the  law  of  itself,  can  never  lead  us 
into  heavenly  places  1  The  law  is  as  "  a 
schoolmaster,  to  bring  us  unto  Christ;" 
it  may  discipline  us  during  our  wander- 
ings in  the  wilderness  ;  but  if,  when  we 
reach  the  Jordan,  there  were  no  Joshua, 
no  Jesus — for  the  names  are  the  same — 
to  undertake  to  be  our  guide,  we  could 
never  go  over  and  possess  that  good  land 
which  God  hath  prepared  for  his  people. 
Therefore,  we  may  believe,  was  it  ap- 
pointed that  there  should  be  a  change  of 
leaders,  that  all  may  know,  that,  if  the 
law,  acting  through  terrors,  bring  a  man 
out  of  the  slavery  of  sin,  it  is  only  the 
Gospel,  rich  in  merciful  provision,  which 
can  open  for  him  an  entrance  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  Moses  was  com- 
manded to  resign  the  people  to  Joshua: 
"  The  very  acts  of  God,"  says  Bishop 
Hall,  "  were  allegories  ;  where  the  law 
ends,  there  the  Saviour  begins  ;  we  may 
see  the  land  of  promise  in  the  law  ;  only 
Jesus,  the  Mediator  of  the  New  Testa* 
ment,  can  bring  us  into  itj' 
43 


338 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  CHRIST. 


Thus  does  Moses  instruct  us,  by  his 
death,  to  whom  to  look  lor  admission 
into  the  heavenly  Canaan.  He  instructs 
us  moreover  as  to  how  we  must  be 
placed,  if  our  last  hours  are  to  be  those 
of  hope  and  peace.  We  must  die  on 
the  summit  of  Pisgah :  we  must  die 
with  our  eye  upon  Bethlehem,  upon 
Gethsemane,  upon  Calvary.  It  was  not, 
as  we  have  ventured  to  suppose,  the  glo- 
riousness  of  the  Canaanitish  landscape 
which  satisfied  the  dying  leader,  and 
nerved  him  for  departure.  It  was  rather 
his  view  of  the  Being  by  whom  that 
•landscape  would  be  trodden,  and  who 
would  sanctify  its  scenes  by  his  tears 
and  his  blood.  And,  in  like  manner, 
when  a  christian  comes  to  die,  it  is  not 
so  much  by  views  of  the  majestic  spread- 
ings    of  the   paradise    of  God,    of  the 


rollings  of  the  crystal  river,  and  of  the 
sparklings  of  the  golden  streets,  that  he 
must  look  to  be  comforted :  his  eye, 
with  that  of  Moses,  must  be  upon  the 
manger,  the  garden,  and  the  cross  ;  and 
thus,  fixing  his  every  hope  on  his  Fore- 
runner, he  may  be  conlident  that  an  en 
trance  shall  be  ministered  unto  him 
abundantly,  into  the  kingdom  "  prepared 
from  the  foundation  of  the  world." 
"  Get  thee  up  into  this  mountain,  and 
die  there."  O  that  we  may  all  be  living 
in  such  a  state  of  preparedness  for  death, 
that,  when  summoned  to  depart  we  may 
ascend  the  summit,  whence  faith  looks 
forth  on  all  that  Jesus  hath  sufiered  and 
done,  and  exclaiming,  "  we  have  waited 
for  thy  salvation,  O  Lord,"  lie  down 
with  Moses  on  Pisgah,  to  awake  with 
Moses  in  Paradise. 


SERMON    VII. 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  CHRIST. 


'  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  eatos ;  and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  e\T3rlastinfr  doors,  and  the  King  of  glory  shall  come  in.     Who 
is  tliis  King  of  glory  ?    Tlic  Lord  strong  and  mighty,  tlie  Lord  mighty  in  battle." — Psalm  xxiv.  7,  8. 


We  hardly  know  how  it  has  come  to 
pass,  that  comparatively  but  little  atten- 
tion is  given  to  the  great  fact  of  Christ's 
ascension  into  heaven.  Christmas-day, 
Good-Friday,  and  Eastei*  day,  are  uni- 
versally observed  by  members  of  our 
church  ;  but  Holy  Thursday  is  scarcely 
known,  even  by  name,  to  the  great  mass 
of  christians.  The  church  evidently 
designed  to  attach  as  much  importat:ce 
to  that  day  as  to  the  others,  having  ap- 
pointed proper  psalms  as  well  as  lessons, 
and  furnished  a  sacramental  preface. 
We  have  come,  however,  to  the  neg- 
lecting this  ordinance  of  the  church, 
BO  that,  whilst  we  statedly  assemble  tr) 
commemorate  tlic  birth,  dcatli,  and 
resurrection  of  our  liord,  we  have  no 


J  solemn  gathering  in  celebration  of  his 
ascension.  And  if  this  have  not  arisen 
from  men's  attachingtoo  little  importance 
to  the  ascension,  it  is,  at  least,  likely  to 
lead  to  their  thinking  less  of  that  event 
than  it  deserves,  or  than  is  required  for 
it  by  the  church.  On  this  account,  for- 
asmuch as  we  have  just  passed  Holy 
Thursday,  we  think  it  well  to  direct 
your  attention  to  the  closing  scene  of 
Christ's  sojourn  upon  earth,  so  that, 
having  stood  round  his  cradle,  followed 
him  to  Calvary,  and  seen  him  burst  from 
the  grave,  we  may  complete  the  won- 
drous contemplatiim  by  gazing  upon 
him  as  he  soars  from  Mount  Olivet.  Of 
course  it  will  not  be  the  mere  historical 
fact  on  which  we  shall  enlarge :  for  we 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  CHRIST. 


339 


may  assume  that  you  require  no  evi- 
dence, that,  as  Jesus  died  and  revived, 
60  did  he  return  in  human  nature  to  the 
heaven  whence  he  had  descended,  and 
take  his  seat  at  the  right  hand  of  God. 
But,  as,  in  discoursing  on  the  resurrection 
of  Christ,  we  strive  to  show  you  our  per- 
sonal interest  jn  that  event,  arguing  our 
own  resurrection  from  that  of  our  Head  ; 
so  will  we  endeavor,  in  discoursing  on  the 
ascension,  to  consider  the  occurrence  in 
its  bearings  on  ourselves  :  for  such  bear- 
ings undoubtedly  there  are,  seeing  that 
St.  Paul  declares  to  the  Ephesians,  that 
God  "  hath  quickened  us  together  with 
Christ,  and  hath  raised  us  up  together, 
and  made  us  sit  together  in  heavenly 
places  in  Christ  Jesus." 

It  is  generally  admitted,  by  expositors 
of  the  writings  of  David,  that  the  words 
of  our  text  have  a  secondary,  if  not  a 
primary,  reference  to  the  return  of  the 
Mediator  to  heaven,  when  he  had  ac- 
complished the  work  of  human  redemp- 
tion. By  many,  the  Psalm,  of  which  our 
text  is  a  part,  is  supposed  to  have  been 
written  and  sung  on  occasion  of  the  re- 
moval of  the  ark  by  David  to  Jerusalem  ; 
it  may  have  been  also  employed  when 
that  ark  was  carried  into  the  magnificent 
temple  which  Solomon  had  reared.  The 
Levites  may  be  regarded  as  approach- 
ing in  solemn  procession,  bearing  the 
sacred  depository  of  sacramental  trea- 
sures. As  they  approach  the  massive 
gates,  they  claim  admission  for  the 
King  of  glory,  who  was  perpetually  to 
dwell  between  the  cherubim  that  shuuld 
overshadow  the  ark.  '♦  Lift  up  your 
lieads,  O  ye  gates,  and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye 
everlasting  doors,  and  the  King  of  glory 
shall  come  in."  The  keepers  of  the 
gates  are  supposed  to  hear  the  summons, 
and  they  demand  from  within,  "  Who 
is  this  King  of  glory  1"  The  answer  is, 
*'  The  Lord  strong  and  mighty,  the  Lord 
mighty  in  battle  :"  and  then  we  are  to 
imagine  the  ponderous  gates  thrown  open, 
and  the  gorgeous  throng  of  priests  and 
Levites  pressing  towards  the  recesses  of 
the  sanctuary. 

But  if  such  were  the  transaction  to 
which  the  Psalm  originally  referred,  it 
may  well  be  regarded  as  typical ;  whilst 
certain  of  the  expressions,  such  as  "  ye 
everlasting  doors,"  seem  evidently  to 
belong  to  no  earthly  house,  however 
sumptuous  and  solid.  In  short,  as 
Bishop  Horsley  affirms,  the  Jehovah  of 


this  psalm  must  be  Christ ;  and  the  en- 
trance of  the  Redeemer  into  the  kingdom 
of  his  Father  is  the  event  prophetically 
announced.  The  passage  is  very  sublime, 
when  thus  interpreted  and  applied.* 
You  are  to  consider  the  Mediator  as 
ascending  towaids  heaven,  attended  by 
a  multitude  of  the  celestial  host.  The 
surroundnig  angels  mingle  their  voices 
in  a  chorus,  which  summons  their  glo- 
rious compeers,  who  are  within  the 
heavenly  city,  to  open  wide  the  gates, 
that  the  triumphant  Savior  may  enter. 
The  angels  within  the  city  may  be  re- 
garded as  thronging  to  its  walls,  won- 
dering who  this  could  be  that  approached 
in  human  form,  and  yet  claimed  admis- 
sion into  the  immediate  presence  of  God. 
They  ask  the  name  of  the  ascending 
man,  for  whom  was  demanded  entrance  to 
their  own  bright  abode.  The  answer  is 
a  reference  to  his  achievements  upon 
earth,  where  he  had  "  spoiled  principali- 
ties and  powers,"  and  "  made  a  show  of 
them  openly."  "  The  Lord  strong  and 
mighty,  the  Lord  mighty  in  battle."  And 
then  you  are  to  suppose  the  everlasting 
doors  to  revolve,  and  that,  amid  the  en- 
raptured adorations  of  the  whole  celestial 
hierarchy,  he  who  had  been  "  a  man  of 
sorrows,"  and  who  "  bare  our  sins  in  his 
own  body  on  the  tree,"  advances  to  the 
throne  of  God,  and  takes  his  seat  there 
as  "  Head  over  all  things  to  the  Church." 

It  is  in  this  manner  that  our  text  may 
be  applied  to  the  great  event  with  which 
we  now  propose  to  engage  your  atten- 
tion. And  if  angels,  for  whom  Jesus  did 
not  die,  and  whose  battle  he  had  not 
fought,  may  be  considered  as  exultingly 
requiring  his  admission  into  the  heavenly 
city,  shall  men  be  silent,  men  for  whom 
he  had  suffered,  men  for  whom  he  was 
about  to  intercede  1  Rather  let  us  take 
on  our  own  lips  the  summons  to  the 
gates  and  everlasting  doors  :  and,  as  we 
stand  with  the  Apostles,  gazing  upwards 
at  the  ascending  Savior,  let  us  exclaim, 
in  a  voice  of  gladness  and  triumph,  "  Lift 
up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates,  and  be  ye  lift 
up,  ye  everlasting  doors,  and  the  King 
of  glory  shall  come  in." 

What,  you  will  say,  are  we  to  rejoice 
in  the  departure  of  our  Lord  from  his 
Church  ]  It  may  well  be  understood 
why  angels  should  utter  the  words  of 
our  text.     Angels  v/ere  delighted  at  the 

*  See  Bishop  Home. 


34U 


TUE  ASCENSION  OF  CHRIST. 


return  of  that  Divine  Person,  who  hail 
emptied  himself  of  iiis  glories,  and  with- 
drawn himself  for  a  time,  so  far  as 
Deity  could  be  withdrawn,  from  the 
scene  where  he  had  been  wont  to  show 
them  his  greatness.  To  angels,  there- 
fore, the  ascension  was  indeed  cause  of 
lofty  gratulation  ;  we  might  well  expect 
them  to  manifest  their  gladness,  to 
throng  joyously  round  the  returning 
Redeemer,  and  to  usher  him  with  every 
token  of  exultation,  into  the  house  of  his 
Father.  But  assuredly  the  case  is  very 
different  with  us.  The  ascension  of 
Christ  was  withdrawment  from  all  visible 
intercourse  with  his  church  ;  that  church 
has  ever  since  been  in  comparative 
widowhood  ;  and  the  return  of  her  Lord 
is  the  grand  event  with  which  she  is 
taught  to  associate  what  will  be  most 
brilliant  in  her  portion.  Must  we  then 
be  glad  at  the  departure  of  Christ ;  and, 
as  though  we  wished  him  to  be  hidden 
from  our  sight,  must  we  summon  the 
gates  of  the  heavenly  city,  and  bid  them 
fly  open  that  the  King  of  glory  may 
enter  1 

It  is  in  the  answer  to  such  a  question 
as  this  that  we  shall  find  matter  of  im- 
portant and  interesting  discourse.  There 
are  indeed  other  aspects  under  which 
the  ascension  may  be  surveyed,  and 
furnish  to  our  contemplation  truths  of  no 
ordinary  kind.  But  the  great  thing  f(n- 
our  consideration,  is  the  personal  interest 
which  we  ourselves  have  in  the  ascension 
of  Christ,  the  cause  which  that  event 
furnishes  for  our  gratitude  and  rejoicing. 
To  this,  therefore,  we  shall  strictly  confine 
ourselves  ;  so  that  the  object  of  the  re- 
mainder of  our  discourse  is  simple  and 
definite;  we  have  to  search  out,  and  set 
before  you,  reasons,  from  which  it  may 
appear  that  we  are  bound  to  exult  in  the 
ascension  of  our  Lord ;  or  which,  in 
other  words,  might  justify  our  joining 
in  the  summons,  "  Lift  up  your  heads, 
O  ye  gates,  and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  ever- 
lasting doors.  ' 

Now  let  us  just  suppose  that  Christ 
had  not  been  exalted  to  the  right  hand 
of  (tO(1,  and  let  us  see  whether  the  sup- 
position would  not  materially  alfect  our 
spiritual  condition.  We  know  that 
Christ  had  taken  our  nature  into  union 
with  the  divine,  on  purpose  that  lie 
might  effect  its  reconciliation  to  God.  In 
order  to  this,  it  was  necessary  that  he 
should  suffer  and  die  ;  for  the  claims  of 


justice  on  the  sinful  could  not,  so  far  as 
we  know,  have  been  otherwise  satisfied. 
And  he  willingly  submitted  to  the  en- 
durance :  "being  found  in  fashion  as  a 
man,  he  humbled  himself,  and  became 
obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of 
the  cross."  But  there  was  a  virtue  in 
this  death,  which  made  it  expiatory  of 
the  sins  of  the  world ;  so  that  when  the 
Redeemer  had  breathed  his  soul  into  the 
hands  of  his  Father,  the  offending  nature 
was  reconciled,  and  the  human  race 
placed  within  reach  of*forgiveness.  Ac- 
cordingly, it  was  justly  to  be  expected 
that  the  resurrection  would  quickly  fol- 
low the  crucifixion  of  Christ ;  for  justice 
could  not  detain  our  surety  in  the  grave, 
when  the  claims,  which  he  had  taken  on 
himself,  were  discharged.  Hence  the 
resurrection  of  Christ  was  both  the  proof 
and  consequence  of  the  completeness  of 
his  mediatorial  work  :  iie  could  not  have 
risen  had  he  not  exhausted  the  penalty 
incurred  by  humankind ;  and,  when  he 
rose,  God  may  be  said  to  have  proclaim- 
ed to  the  universe  the  suflficiency  of  the 
sacrifice,  and  his  acceptance  of  it  as  an 
atonement  for  the  sins  of  the  world.  If 
Christ  had  remained  in  the  grave,  and 
his  flesh  had  seen  corruption,  we  could 
only  have  regarded  him  as  a  man  like 
one  of  ourselves ;  at  least,  we  could 
never  have  regarded  him  as  a  substitute, 
whose  vicarious  endurances  had  been 
effectual  on  our  behalf;  for  so  long  aa 
he  had  been  stil!  "holden  of  death,"  we 
must  have  felt  that  he  was  a  debtor  to 
justice,  and  that,  therefore,  those  v\'hom 
he  represented  could  not  have  been 
freed. 

But  was  it  enough  that  the  Mediator 
should  be  quickly  released  from  the 
grave,  and  that  our  nature  should  be 
thereby  pronounced  capable  of  the  for- 
giveness and  favor  of  its  Maker  1  It  is 
licro  that  we  have  to  make  our  supposi- 
tion, that  the  resunection  had  not  been 
follo\ve<l  by  the  ascension  of  Christ.  It 
is  sufficiently  easy  to  certify  ourselves  of 
the  indispensableness  of  the  resurrection ; 
fi>r  we  see  at  once  the  force  of  the  dis- 
tinction drawn  by  St.  Paul,  that  Christ 
was  "delivered  for  our  offences,"  but 
"raised  again  for  our  justification."  But 
it  is  quite  another  thing  to  certify  our- 
selves of  the  indispensableness  of  the  as- 
cension ;  for,  when  our  justification  had 
been  completed,  might  not  the  risen 
Mediator  have  remained  with  the  church. 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  CHRIST. 


341 


gladdening  it  perpetually  by  the  light  of 
his  presence  1  To  this  we  I'eply,  that 
the  reception  of  our  nature,  in  the  per- 
son of  our  surety,  into  heavenly  places, 
was  as  necessary  to  our  comfort  and  as- 
surance as  its  deliverance  from  the  power 
of  the  grave.  We  ask  you  only  to  re- 
member, that,  as  oiiginally  created,  man 
moved  in  the  immediate  presence  of 
God ;  and  that  the  state  from  which  he 
fell  was  one  of  direct  intercourse  and 
blissful  communion  with  his  Maker. 
And  Christ  had  undertaken  to  counteract 
the  effects  of  apostacy ;  as  the  second 
Adaip,  he  engaged  to  place  human  nature 
in  the  very  position  from  which  it  had 
been  withdrawn  by  the  first.  But  was 
there  any  demonstration  that  such  un- 
dertaking, such  engagement,  had  been 
fully  performed,  until  Christ  ascended 
up  to  heaven,  and  entered,  as  a  man,  in- 
to the  holy  place  ?  So  long  as  he  re- 
mained on  earth,  thei-e  was  no  evidence 
that  he  had  won  for  our  nature  re-admis- 
sion to  the  paradise  from  which  it  had 
been  exiled.  Whilst  he  "  went  about 
doing  good,"  and  preaching  the  Gospel 
of  the  kingdom,  that  nature  was  still  un- 
der the  original  curse,  for  the  atoning 
sacrifice  had  not  been  presented.  Whilst 
he  hung  on  the  cross,  that  curse  was  in 
the  act  of  being  exhausted ;  and  when 
he  came  forth  from  the  tomb,  it  was  pro- 
nounced to  be  wholly  removed.  But  the 
taking  away  the  curse  was  not  necessari- 
ly the  restoring  the  nature  to  all  the  for- 
feited privileges  and  blessings  :  it  was 
the  rendering  the  nature  no  longer  ob- 
noxious to  God's  righteous  anger,  rather 
than  the  reinstating  it  in  God's  love  and 
favor.  It  is  altogether  imaginable  that 
enough  might  have  been  done  to  shield 
the  nature  from  punishment,  and  yet  not 
enough  to  place  it  in  happiness.  And 
what  we  contend  is,  that,  up  to  the  mo- 
ment of  the  ascension,  no  evidence  was 
given  on  the  latter  point,  though  there 
was  abundance  on  the  former.  The 
whole  testimony  of  the  resurrection  was 
a  testimony  to  the  exhaustion  of  the 
curse ;  it  went  not  beyond  this ;  and 
therefore  could  not  prove  that  the  flaming 
sword  of  the  cherub  was  sheathed,  and 
that  man  might  again  enter  the  garden 
of  the  Lord. 

And  if  Christ  had  never  returned,  in 
human  nature,  to  his  Father  ;  if,  having 
been  delivered  from  the  grave,  he  had 
remained  upon  earth,  in   however   glo- 


rious a  character,  we  must  always  have 
feared  that  our  redemption  was  incom- 
plete, and  that  we  had  not  been  restored 
to  the  forfeited  position.  For,  whatso- 
ever Christ  did,  he  did  as  our  represen- 
tative ;  and  whatsoever  was  awarded  to 
him  was  awarded  to  him  as  our  represen- 
tative. We  are  reckoned  as  having  ful- 
filled in  him  the  righteousness,  and  en- 
dured in  him  the  penalties  of  the  law: 
turn  to  Scripture,  and  you  find  that  we 
were  circumcised  with  Christ,  that  with 
him  we  were  crucified,  with  him  buried, 
with  him  raised  up ;  for  in  him  was  our 
nature  circumcised,  crucified,  buried,  and 
raised  ;  and  what  was  done  to  the  nature, 
was  counted  as  done  to  the  individuals 
to  whom  that  nature  might  belong. 
Hence,  in  following  Christ  up  to  his  re- 
surrection, we  follow  our  nature  a  long 
way  towards  full  recovery  from  the  con- 
sequences of  apostacy ;  but,  if  we  stop 
at  the  resurrection,  we  do  not  reach  the 
reinstatement  of  that  nature  in  all  its  lost 
honors.  In  order  to  this  wo  must  have 
that  nature  received  into  the  paradise  of 
God,  and  there  made  partaker  of  endless 
felicity.  Christ,  raised  from  the  dead, 
and  remaining  always  upon  earth,  would 
only  have  assured  us  of  deliverance  from 
the  grave,  and  protracted  residence  on 
this  globe  :  we  must  have  Christ  raised 
from  the  dead,  and  received  up  into 
glory,  ere  we  can  have  assurance  that  we 
shall  spring  from  the  dust  and  soar  into 
God's  presence. 

Are  we  not  then  borne  out  in  the  as- 
sertion, that  we  have  as  great  interest  in 
the  ascension  of  our  Lord,  as  in  any 
other  of  the  events  of  his  marvellous  his- 
tory; and  that  it  would  be  almost  as  fa- 
tal to  our  hopes,  to  prove  that,  having 
been  raised,  he  had  never  been  glorified, 
as  to  prove,  that,  having  been  slain,  he 
had  never  been  raised  1  In  each  case 
there  would  be  a  stopping  short  of  the 
complete  counteraction  of  the  conse- 
quences of  apostacy ;  in  each  case,  that 
is,  evidence  would  be  wanting  that  the 
Redeemer  accomplished  what  he  under- 
took. We  can  go,  therefore,  with  the 
disciples  to  the  deserted  sepulchre  of 
Jesus,  and  rejoice  in  the  proof  that  "his 
soul  was  not  left  in  hell,  neither  his  flesh 
did  see  corruption."  We  triumph  in  the 
resurrection  of  our  Lord  ;  we  see  in  it 
the  resurrection  of  our  nature ;  and  we 
expect,  with  exultation,  a  moment  when 
all  that  are  in  the  grave  shall  hear  a 


342 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  CHRIST. 


divine  voice,  and  come  forth  indestructi- 
ble. But  we  are  not,  we  cannot  be, 
content  with  this.  Our  thoughts  are  up- 
on scenes  which  man  traversed  in  his  in- 
nocence, or  rather  upon  scenes  of  which 
these  were  but  types.  We  remember 
the  garden  where  God  condescended  to 
associate  famiharly  with  his  creature  ; 
and  we  ask,  whether  the  decree  of  exile 
have  indeed  been  repealed,  and  whether 
the  banished  nature  be  free  to  re-enter 
the  glorious  abode  1  If  so,  that  nature 
must  ascend  in  the  pei'son  of  our  repre- 
sentative ;  we  are  still  chained  to  earth, 
if  Christ,  as  our  forerunner,  have  not 
passed  into  the  heavens.  What  then  ] 
shall  it  be  in  sorrow,  shall  it  be  in  fear, 
that  we  follow  the  Redeemer  to  Bethany, 
when  about  to  depart  from  this  earth ; 
shall  we  wish  to  detain  him  amongst  us, 
as  though  satisfied  with  the  emancipation 
of  our  nature  from  the  power  of  death, 
and  not  desiring  its  admission  into  all  the 
splendors  of  immortality  1  Not  so,  an- 
gelic hosts,  ye  who  are  waiting  to  attend 
the  Mediator,  as  he  ascends  to  his  Father. 
We  know  and  feel  that  Christ  must  de- 
part from  us,  if  he  have  indeed  secured 
our  entrance  to  the  bright  land,  where 
ye  behold  the  universal  King.  And, 
therefore,  we  will  join  your  strain  ;  we 
will  echo  your  melody.  Yes,  though  it 
be  to  ask  that  he  may  be  withdrawn  from 
his  church,  that  he  may  no  longer  be 
amongst  us  to  guide,  and  cheer,  and  con- 
trol, we  too  will  pour  forth  the  summons, 
"  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates,  and  be 
ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors,  and  the 
King  of  glory  shall  come  in." 

But  this  can  perhaps  hardly  be  said 
to  put  the  necessity  for  Christ's  exal- 
tation in  a  sufficiently  strong  light.  It 
certainly  appears,  from  our  foregoing 
reasoning,  that  unless  the  resurrection 
had  been  followed  by  the  ascension  of 
our  Lord,  we  should  have  wanted  evi- 
dence of  the  restoration  of  our  nature 
to  the  dignity  and  happiness  which  had 
been  lost  by  trangression.  But  this 
evidence  is  furnished  by  the  simple 
fact  of  the  ascension  :  it  does  not  seem 
to  require  the  continued  absence  of 
Christ  from  his  cliurch.  If  we  are  to 
join  the  angels  in  the  summons  of  our 
text,  we  must  be  supposed  to  feel  and 
express  joy  that  Christ  was  about  to 
make  his  dwelling  in  heavenly  places. 
Angels  exulted,  because  the  eternal 
Word   was  once  more  to  manifest  his 


presence  in  the  midst  of  their  abode, 
and  to  be  again  the  light  aud.glory  of 
their  city.  But  why  should  we  share 
this  exultation  ]  We  may  allow  it  to 
be  cause  of  rejoicing,  that  our  nature 
was  admitted,  in  the  person  of  Christ, 
into  the  presence  of  God  ;  but  we  seem 
to  need  nothing  beyond  this  :  if  Christ 
had  immediately  returned  to  his  church, 
we  should  have  l:ad  the  same  assurance 
as  now  of  our  restoration  to  divine 
favor,  and  the  advantages,  in  addition, 
of  Christ's  personal  presence  with  hia 
people. 

Now  we  do  not  deny,  that,  in  orc^er  to 
our  joining  heartily  in  the  summons  of 
our  text,  it  is  necessary  that  we  should 
be  prepared  to  rejoice  in  the  exaltation, 
as  well  as  in  the  ascension,  of  our  Lord, 
in  his  remaining  in  heavenly  places,  as 
well  as  in  his  departure  from  earth.  We 
must  take  into  account  the  consequences 
of  the  ascension,  as  well  as  the  ascension 
itself:  for  angels,  undoubtedly,  had  re- 
gard to  these,  when  manifesting  gladness 
at  the  return  of  God's  Son.  And  we  are 
quite  ready  to  carry  our  argument  to  the 
length  thus  supposed,  and  to  contend  that 
we  have  such  interest  in  the  exaltation 
of  Christ,  in  his  being  invested  with 
glories  which  require  his  separation  from 
the  church,  that  men  might  w'ell  join 
with  angels  in  summoning  the  gates  of 
the  celestial  city  to  fly  open  for  his  ad« 
mission.  We  would  bring  to  your  recol- 
lection, that  God  had  covenanted  to  be- 
stow great  honor  on  his  Son,  in  recom- 
pense of  the  work  of  our  redemption. 
And  though  it  be  true  that  this  honor 
was  chiefly  to  be  put  on  the  humanity  of 
the  Savior,  it  may  easily  be  shown  that 
some  portion  of  it  appertained  to  the 
divinity.  We  are,  of  course,  well  aware 
that  it  was  not  possible  for  Christ,  as 
God,  to  receive  additions  to  his  essential 
glory ;  and,  accordingly,  it  is  generally 
concluded  that  the  glory  conferred  on 
him  at  his  exaltation,  was  a  glory  wJiich 
devolved  exclusively  on  his  manhood. 
It  ought  however  to  be  borne  in  mind, 
that,  though  Christ  was  tiie  eternal  Son 
of  God,  equal  to  the  Father  in  all  pro- 
perties and  prerogatives  of  Deity,  he  had 
been  but  imperfectly  manifested  under 
the  old  dispensation,  so  tliat  he  received 
not  the  honors  due  to  him  as  essentially 
divine.  You  can  hardly  say  that  the 
second  and  third  Persons  of  tlie  Trinity 
were  so  revealed,  before  the  coming  of 


THE  ASCENSION  OP  CHRIST. 


343 


as  to  be  secure  of  the  reverence,  or 
worsliip,  to  which  they  have  right  as  one 
with  the  first.  We  are  now  intleed  ahle 
to  find  indications  in  the  Old  Testajnent 
of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  :  but  tliis 
is  mainly  because  of  the  light  which  is 
thrown  on  its  pages  from  those  of  the 
New.  If  we  had  nothing  but  the  Old 
Testament,  if  we  were  wholly  without 
the  assistance  of  a  fuller  revelation,  we 
should  bo  amply  informed  as  to  the  unity 
of  the  Godhead,  and  thus  be  secured 
against  polytheism  :  but  probably  we 
should  have  but  faint  apprehensions  of  a 
Trinity  in  the  Godhead,  and  be  unable 
to  worship  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  as 
the  eternal,  indivisible,  Jehovah. 

Accordingly,  we  have  always  agreed 
with  those  who  would  argue,  that  the 
plan  of  redemption  was  constructed 
with  the  design  of  revealing  to  the 
world  the  Trinity  in  the  Godhead  ;  so 
that,  whilst  the  thing  done  should  be 
the  deliverance  of  our  race,  the  manner 
of  doing  it  might  involve  the  manifesta- 
tion of  those  Divine  Persons,  who  had 
heretofore  scarce  had  place  in  human 
theology.*  It  was  a  fuller  discovery  of 
the  nature  of  God,  as  well  as  the  com- 
plete redemption  of  the  nature  of  man, 
which  was  contemplated  in  the  arrange- 
ments made  known  to  us  by  the  Gospel; 
the  Son  and  the  Spirit  came  forth  from 
the  obscurity  in  which  they  had  been 
heretofore  veiled,  that  they  might  show 
their  essential  Deity  in  the  offices  as- 
sumed, and  establish  a  lasting  claim  to 
our  love  by  the  benefits  conferred.  And 
when  Christ,  in  that  prayer  to  his  Father 
which  occupies  the  seventeenth  chapter 
of  St.  John's  Gospel,  and  which  was  of- 
fered but  a  short  time  before  his  cruci- 
fixion, entreated  that  he  might  be  glori- 
fied with  a  glory  which  had  originally 
been  his,  "  And  now,  O  Father,  glorify 
thou  me  with  thine  own  self,  with  the 
glory  which  I  had  with  thee  before  the 
world  was,"  must  he  not  have  referred 
to  a  glory  appertaining  to  his  divine  na- 
ture, rather  than  to  his  human  1  What- 
ever the  glory  that  was  about  to  descend 
on  the  manhood,  it  could  not  be  describ- 
ed as  a  glory  which  he  had  had  with  the 
Father  before  the  world  was  :  his  hu- 
manity was  not  then  in  being;  and  we 
know  not  how  in  any  but  a  most  forced 
sense,  it  could  be  said   that  Christ  pos- 

*  Waterland,  Bishop  Bull,  &c. 


sessed,  from  all  eternity,  the  glory  which 
was  to  he  given  to  tlie  humanity  not 
then  produced.  But  if  you  consider  our 
Lord  as  referring  to  his  divinity,  it  is 
not  difficult  to  understand  his  petition. 
From  everlasting  he  had  been  the  Son 
of  God  ;  and,  therefore,  there  liad  be- 
longed to  him  an  immeasurable  glory,  a 
glory  of  which  no  creature  could  par- 
take, inasmucli  as  it  was  derived  from 
his  being  essentially  divine.  But,  though 
essentially  divine,  he  had  not  been  man- 
ifested as  divine;  and  hence  the  glory, 
which  had  appertained  to  him  before 
the  world  was,  had  not  yet  become  con- 
spicuous :  it  was  still,  at  least,  partially 
concealed ;  for  creatures  had  not  yet 
been  fully  taught  that  they  were  to 
"  honor  the  Son,  even  as  they  honor  the 
Father."  But  now  he  was  on  the  point 
of  being  exalted ;  and  his  prayer  was, 
that  he  might  be  glorified  with  the  very 
glory  which  he  had  originally  possessed  ; 
in  other  words,  that  he  might  be  dis 
played  to  the  world  as  actually  divine, 
and  thus  might  be  openly,  what  he  had 
all  along  been  essentially,  glorious  with 
the  glories  of  absolute  Deity. 

And  you  must  all  confess  that  it  is  a 
great  point  with  us  as  christians,  a  point 
in  comparison  of  which  almost  every 
other  may  be  regarded  as  secondary, 
that  the  essential  deity  of  Christ  should 
be  fully  demonstrated,  and  that  there 
should  be  nothing  to  encourage  the 
opinion  that  he  w^as  but  a  creature, 
however  loftily  endowed.  But  sup- 
pose that  Chiist  had  remained  with 
us  upon  earth;  or  suppose,  that,  having 
ascended,  and  thus  proved  the  complete- 
ness of  the  redemption  of  our  nature,  he 
had  returned  to  abide  continually  with 
his  church.  Would  the  covenanted  re- 
compense, so  far  as  it  consisted  in  the 
manifestation  of  his  deity,  have  then 
been  bestowed  1  Could  Christ's  equal- 
ity with  the  Father  have  been  shown 
convincingly  to  the  world,  whilst  he  still 
moved,  in  the  form  of  a  man,  through 
scenes  polluted  by  sin  1  To  us  it  seems, 
that,  under  such  a  dispensation  as  the 
])resent,  the  continued  residence  of  the 
^Mediator  upon  earth  would  practically 
be  regarded  as  contradicting  his  divinity. 
The  question  would  perpetually  be 
asked,  whether  this  being  could  indeed 
be  essentially  divine,  who  was  left,  cen- 
tury after  century,  in  a  state  of  humilia- 
tion 1  for  it  must  be  humiliation  for  Christ, 


344 


TUE  ASCENSION  OF  CHRIST. 


Deity  to  dwell  in  human  form  on  this 
earth,  so  long  at  least  as  it  is  the  home 
of  wickedness  and  misery.  And  it 
would  be  nothing  against  this,  that  he 
was  arrayed  with  surpassing  majesty, 
and  continually  exhibited  demonstra- 
tions of  supremacy.  The  majesty, 
which  moreover  could  only  be  seen  by 
few  at  one  time,  would  cease  to  dazzle 
when  it  had  been  t)ften  beheld  ;  and  the 
demonstrations  of  supremacy  would  lose 
their  power  after  frequent  repetition. 
We  think  that  tlie  common  feelings  of 
our  nature  warrant  our  being  sure,  that 
there  would  be  immense  difficulty  in  per- 
suading a  congregation,  like  the  present, 
to  kneel  down  and  worship,  as  God,  a 
being  of  whom  they  were  told  that  he 
was  dwelling  as  a  man  in  Jerusalem,  or 
some  other  city  of  the  earth.  And  then 
you  are  to  remember,  that,  even  if  his  es- 
sential Deity  had  been  manifested  to 
men,  he  must  probably  have  been  with- 
drawn from  other  ranks  of  intelligence  : 
for  would  it  not  almost  imply  a  separa- 
tion, which  cannot  take  place,  of  his  di- 
vinity from  his  humanity,  to  suppose  him 
personally  discovering  his  uncreated 
splendors  in  other  parts  of  the  universe, 
whilst  ho  still  dwelt  in  a  body  where  he 
had  suffered  and  died  ] 

So  then  we  cannot  well  see  how  there 
could  have  been  the  thorough  manifesta- 
tion of  the  divinity  of  the  Son,  which  had 
been  almost  hidden  under  earlier  dispen- 
sations, had  not  Christ  ascended  up  on 
high,  and  taken  his  seat  at  the  riglit  hand 
of  the  Father.  AVe  stay  not  to  inquire 
how  far  the  glory,  which  had  been  pro- 
mised to  his  humanity,  might  have  been 
bestowed,  had  theie  been  nothing  of  this 
exaltation,  or  had  it  not  been  permanent. 
We  confine  ourselves  to  the  glory  which 
was  to  accrue  to  the  divinity  ;  for  all  our 
hopes  rest  on  the  demonstration  which 
God  gave,  that  Christ  was  his  Son,  co- 
cternal  and  co-equal  with  himself  And 
if  we  were  to  ask  evidence  that  he,  who 
had  been  crucified  and  buried,  was  ne- 
vertheless a  divine  person,  what  should 
that  evidence  be  1  We  would  not  ask 
the  mere  resurrection  of  this  person, 
though  that  must  •)f  course  form  the  first 
part  (jf  our  prof)f  We  would  not  ask 
his  mere  ascension  ;  Ibr  it'  he  miglit  not 
tarry  in  the  heavens,  we  should  doubt 
whether  they  were  indeed  his  rightful 
home.  We  W(juld  ask  that  he  miglit  be 
received  into  the  dwelling-place  of  God, 


and  there  and  thence  wield  all  the  au- 
thority of  omnipotence.  We  would  ask 
that  angel  and  archangel,  principality 
and  power,  might  gather  round  his  throne, 
as  they  were  wont  to  do  round  that  of 
the  Father,  and  render  to  him,  notwith- 
standing his  human  form,  the  homage 
which  they  render  only  to  their  Maker. 
We  would  ask  that  he  should  be  with- 
drawn from  mortal  view,  since  Uelty 
dwells  "  in  light  which  no  man  can  ap- 
proach unto;  "but  that,  from  his  inac- 
cessible and  invisible  throne,  he  should 
direct  all  the  affairs  of  this  earth,  hearing 
the  prayers,  supplying  the  wants,  and 
fighting  the  battles  of  his  church,  and 
thus  giving  as  continued  proofs  of  omni 
presence  as  are  to  be  found  in  the  agen- 
cies of  the  material  creation.  And  this 
is  precisely  the  demonstration  which  has 
been  furnished.  On  testimony,  than 
which  even  that  of  the  senses  could  not 
be  more  convincing,  we  believe  that  the 
Lord  our  Kedeemer,  the  very  pei-son 
who  sorrowed  and  suffered  upon  earth, 
is  invested  with  all  the  honors,  and  exer- 
cises all  the  powers,  of  absolute  Deity ; 
and  that,  though  he  still  retains  his  hu- 
man form,  there  has  been  committed  to 
him  authority  which  no  creature  could 
wield,  and  there  is  given  him  a  homage 
which  no  creature  could  receive.  Wliat 
though  the  heavens  have  received  him 
out  of  our  sight  1  there  liave  come  mes- 
sages from  those  heavens  informing  us 
of  his  solemn  enthronement  as  "King  of 
kings,  and  Loid  of  lords  ;"  and  notes  of 
the  celestial  minstrelsy  are  borne  to  mor- 
tal ears,  celebrating  the  Son  of  the  vir- 
gin as  the  great  "I  am,"  who  was,  and 
is,  and  is  to  come.  And  it  is  in  conse- 
quence of  such  messages  that  thousands, 
and  tens  of  thousands,  of  the  inliabitants 
of  this  earth,  bow  at  the  name  of  Jesus  ; 
and  that  vast  advances  have  already  been 
made  towards  a  splendid  consummation, 
when  the  sun,  in  his  circuit  round  our 
globe,  shall  shine  on  none  but  the  wor- 
shippers of  "the  Lamb  that  was  slain." 
Is  this  a  result  in  which  we  rejoice  ? 
Is  it  indeed  cause  of  gladness  to  us,  that 
the  divinity  of  the  Son,  veiled  not  only 
during  the  days  of  his  humiliation  in 
flesh,  but  throughout  the  ages  which  pro- 
ceded  the  incarnation,  has  been  glorious- 
ly manifested,  so  that  he  is  known  and 
worshipped  as  God  1  Then,  if  this  be 
matter  of  rejoicing,  we  must  be  prepai*- 
ed  to  be  glad,  that,  in  ascending  frona 


THE  ASCENSION  OP  CPRIST. 


345 


Olivet,  the  Mediator  ascends  to  fix  his 
abode  in  the  heavens.  This  full  mani- 
festation of  divinity  required  heaven  as 
its  scene,  and  could  not  h;\ve  been  eftect- 
ed  on  the  narrow  and  polluted  stage  of 
our  earth.  Yes,  we  must  be  glad  that 
the  ascending  Savior  is  not  to  return, 
because  by  not  returning  he  is  to  show 
forth  his  Godhead.  And,  therefore,  v/e 
can  again  address  the  heavenly  hosts, 
shining  and  beautiful  beings,  who  are 
marshalling  the  way,  in  solemn  pomp, 
for  "the  High  Priest  of  our  profession." 
We  know  why  ye,  O  celestial  troop,  ex- 
ult in  his  return.  He  ascends  to  be  the 
liglit  of  your  abode  ;  and  ye  triumph  in 
the  thought  that  he  is  to  be  eternally 
with  you.  And  even  we  can  share  your 
exultation,  we,  from  whom  he  departs, 
and  who  are  no  longer  to  be  delighted 
by  his  presence.  We  feel  that  within 
the  veil  alone  can  his  recompense  be 
bestowed,  a  recompense  which  could  not 
be  withheld  without  the  dai'kening  of  all 
our  best  hopes :  let,  then,  our  voices 
mingle  with  yours  ;  for  we  too  are  ready 
to  pour  forth  the  summons,  "Lift  up 
your  heads,  O  ye  gates,  and  be  lift  up, 
ye  everlasting  doors,  and  the  King  of 
glory  shall  come  in." 

But  we  must  carry  t)ur  argument  yet 
further.  Let  it  be  supposed  that  the 
promised  recompense  might  have  been 
fully  conferred  upon  Christ,  without  his 
departure  or  absence — the  i-ecompense 
that  was  to  belong  to  his  divinity,  as  well 
as  that  of  which  his  humanity  was  to  be 
the  subject — we  may  still  show  that  his 
ascension  and  exaltation  should  furnish 
us  with  great  matter  of  rejoicing.  It  is 
clearly  stated  in  Scripture,  that  the  de- 
scent of  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  the  guide 
and  comforter  of  the  church,  could  not 
take  place  whilst  Christ  remained  on 
earth.  We  are  pi'obably  not  competent 
to  the  discovering  the  reasons  for  this  ; 
but  if  we  consider  the  scheme  of  redemp- 
tion as  constructed  that  it  might  manifest 
the  three  persons  of  the  Godhead,  we 
may  see  a  special  fitness  in  the  departure 
of  the  Son  before  the  coming  of  the 
Spirit.  You  cannot  imagine  a  more 
thorough  manifestation  of  the  second  and 
third  persons  than  has  thus  been  ellected. 
The  offices,  respectively  sustained  in  the 
work  of  our  redemption,  bring  these  per- 
sons distinctly  before  u^,  and  that,  too, 
in  the  manner  best  adapted  to  gain  for 
them  our  love  and  veneration.     The  Son, 


having  humbled  himself  for  us,  and  thus 
bound  us  to  himself  by  the  closest  ties, 
returned  to  take  his  seat  in  the  heavens, 
and  to  be  the  object  of  worsliip  to  all 
ranks  of  intelligent  being.  The  scene 
was  thus  left  ready  for  the  entrance  of  the 
Spirit,  who  came  down  with  every  demon- 
stration of  almightiness,  endowing  the 
weak  with  superhuman  powers,  and  in- 
structing the  illiterate  in  the  mysteries 
of  the  Gospel.  We  will  not  presume  to 
say  that  there  could  not  have  been  this 
manifestation  of  the  third  person  in  the 
Trinity,  had  not  the  second  ascended, 
and  separated  himself  from  the  church. 
]3ut,  at  least,  we  may  urge  that  we  have 
a  facility  in  distinguishing  the  persons, 
now  that  the  office  of  one  upon  earth  has 
succeeded  to  that  of  the  other,  which  we 
could  hardly  have  had  if  those  offices 
had  been  contemporaneously  discharged. 
Had  the  Son  remained  visibly  with  us, 
we  should  probably  have  confounded  his 
office  with  that  of  the  Spirit :  at  all 
events  we  should  not  so  readily  have  re- 
cognized a  Trinity  of  persons.  Even  as 
it  is,  the  third  person  is  often  practically 
almost  hidden  from  us  by  the  second: 
what  then  would  it  have  been,  had  not 
the  heavens  received  Christ,  that  the 
Holy  Ghost  might  be  alone  in  his  great 
work  of  renewing  our  nature  1 

But,  whatever  may  be  our  thoughts 
and  conjectures,  it  is  evidently  the  repre- 
sentation of  Scripture,  that  the  Spirit 
could  not  have  descended,  had  not  Christ 
returned  to  his  Father,  and  fixed  his  re- 
sidence in  heaven.  St.  John  expressly 
speaks  of  the  Holy  Ghost  as  "  not  yet 
given,  because  that  Jesus  was  not  yet 
glorified."  And  our  Lord  himself,  de- 
siring to  comfort  his  disciples,  who  were 
overwhelmed  with  grief  at  the  prospect 
of  his  departure,  made  this  strong  state- 
ment, "It  is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go 
away  ;  for  if  I  go  not  away,  the  Comfor- 
ter will  not  come  unto  you  ;  but  if  I  de- 
part, I  will  send  him  unto  you."  Here, 
as  you  must  all  perceive,  it  is  distinctly 
asserted  that  the  Comforter  could  not 
come,  unless  Christ  departed ;  whilst 
his  coming  is  represented  as  of  such  mo- 
ment to  the  church,  that  it  would  be  ad- 
vantageously j^rocured  even  at  the  cost 
of  that  departure. 

We  are  bound,  therefore,  in  consid* 

ering  what   reasons    there    may    be    to 

ourselves  for   rejoicing    in    the    exalta* 

tion  of  Christ,  to  assume  that  this  ex- 

44 


346 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  CHRIST. 


altation  was  indispensable  to  the  descent 
of  the  Spirit  on  the  day  of  pentecost, 
and  to  his  presence  with  the  church  to 
expound  and  cany  home  the  Gospel. 
And  certainly,  if  we  had  no  other  rea- 
son to  give  why  human  voices  should 
utter  the  summons  of  our  text,  this  alone 
would  suffice.  Of  what  avail  would  it 
have  been  to  us,  that  the  Son  had  hum- 
bled himself,  and  wrestled,  and  died,  on 
our  behalf,  had  the  Spirit  not  been  given 
as  a  re":cneratinor  assent,  to  make  efiec- 
tual,  in  our  own  cases,  what  had  been 
wrought  out  by  Christ  ]  Who  but  this 
Spirit  enabled  apostles  to  combat  the 
idolatries  of  the  world,  and  gain  a  foot- 
ing for  Christianity  on  the  earth  ?  Who 
but  this  Spirit  guided  the  pens  of  sacred 
historians,  that  distant  ages  might  pos- 
sess the  precious  record  of  the  sayings 
and  doings  of  the  Redeemer  1  Who  but 
this  Spirit  now  makes  the  Bible  intelli- 
gible, throwing  on  its  pages  supernatural 
light,  so  that  they  burn  and  glow  with 
the  truths  of  eternity  1  Who  but  this 
Spirit  convinces  man  of  sin,  produces  in 
him  that  "  godly  sorrow  "  which  "  work- 
eth  repentance,"  and  leads  to  the  put- 
ting faith  in  the  alone  propitiation  ? 
Who  but  this  Spirit  gradually  withdraws 
the  affections  from  what  is  perishable, 
animates  by  setting  before  the  view  the 
prizes  of  heaven,  and  so  sanctifies  fallen 
beings  that  they  become  meet  for  the 
unfading  inheritance.  Who  but  this 
Spirit  comforts  the  mourning,  confirms 
the  wavering,  directs  the  doui)ting,  sus- 
tains the  dying  1  The  office  of  the  Son 
may  indeed  be  more  ostensible  ;  it  may 
more  easily  commend  itself  to  our  at- 
tention, because  discharged  in  the  form 
of  a  man  ;  but  he  can  know  little  of  vital, 
practical  Christianity,  who  supposes  it 
more  important  than  that  of  the  Spirit. 
What  the  Son  did  for  us  was  valuable, 
because  to  be  followed  by  what  the 
Spirit  docs :  take  away  the  agency  of 
the  third  Person,  and  we  are  scarce 
benefited  by  the  agony  of  the  second. 
And  if  then  it  were  an  act  of  mercy, 
not  to  be  measured,  that  the  Son  of  God 
descended  to  bear  the  punishment  of 
our  sins  ;  it  was  no  less  an  act  involving 
all  our  hapi)iness,  that  he  dcpaited  to 
send  down  the  comfiMter.  Shall  we 
then  join  in  the  chorus  of  angels,  when 
they  throng  the  firmament  in  honor  of 
the  birth  of  the  Rcdecmi^r,  and  shall  we 
be  silent  when  they  celebrate  his  return 


to  the  presence  of  his  Father?  No;  if 
we  have  any  value  for  Christianity  as  set 
up  in  the  heart,  and  regulating  the  life, 
the  departure  of  the  Mediator  will  as 
much  move  our  {rladness  as  his  cominjj. 
We  are  thankful  that  intrepid  preachers 
were  found,  who,  in  the  face  of  danger 
and  death  carried  the  cross  into  every 
district  of  the  earth.  We  are  thankful 
that  we  were  not  left  to  the  uncertain- 
tics  and  errors  of  oral  tradition,  but  that 
we  have  a  A'olume  in  our  hands  with  the 
broad  signet  of  inspiration.  Vie  are 
thankful  that  men  can  repent,  that  they 
can  be  converted  fio.m  the  error  of  their 
ways,  that  they  can  "  lay  hold  on  the 
hope  set  before  them,"  that  they  can 
"  live  soberly  and  righteously,"  die 
peacefully,  and  enter  heaven  triumph- 
antly. But  for  all  this  we  are  practical- 
ly as  much  indebted  to  the  Spirit  as  to 
the  Son.  All  this  is  virtually  owing, 
not  to  the  presence,  but  to  the  absence 
of  the  Mediator;  and,  therefore,  will  we 
hearken  for  the  song  of  the  cherubim 
and  seraphim,  as,  with  every  indication 
of  joy,  they  meet  and  encircle  the  as- 
cending Head  of  the  church  ;  and  even 
from  earth  shall  be  heard  a  summons, 
as  though  from  the  voices  of  those  who 
are  full  of  exultation,  "Lift  up  your 
heads,  O  ye  gates,  and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye 
everlasting  doors,  and  the  King  of  glory 
shall  come  in." 

Now  we  would  recur  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, in  winding  up  this  great  subject 
of  discourse,  to  the  first  reason  which 
we  gave  why  men  should  rejoice  in 
the  ascension  of  Christ.  We  spoke 
of  this  ascension  as  the  ascension  of 
our  nature,  so  that  the  entrance  of 
Christ  into  heavenly  places  was  the 
proof  of  our  restoration  to  favor,  and 
the  pledge  of  our  final  admission  into 
the  j^aradise  of  God.  And  how  noble, 
how  elevating,  is  the  thought,  that  it 
was  indeed  as  our  forerunner,  as  our 
representative,  that  Jesus  passed  into 
the  presence  of  his  Father.  How  glo- 
rious to  take  our  stand,  as  it  were,  on 
the  mount  of  Olives,  to  gaze  on  the 
Mediator,  as  he  wings  his  flight  towards 
rcirions  into  which  shall  enter  nothing 
that  dcfilclh,  and  to  feel  that  he  is  cleav- 
ing a  way  for  us,  the  fallen  and  polluted, 
that  we  too  may  enter  the  celcstia  city. 
What  were  the  words  which  angels  ad- 
dressed to  the  disciples,  as  they  strained 
their  vision  to  catch  another  glimpse  of 


THE  ASCENSION  OF  CHRIST. 


347 


their  departing  Lortl  1  "Ye  men  of  Gali- 
lee, why  stand  ye  gazing  up  into  heaven  1 
This  same  Jesus,  which  is  taken  up 
from  you  into  heaven,  shall  so  come  in 
Hke  manner  as  ye  have  seen  him  go  in- 
to heaven,"  Then  the  ascension  should 
cause  our  minds  to  go  forward,  and  fix 
themselves  on  the  second  advent  of 
the  Lord.  Waste  not  your  time,  the 
angels  seem  to  say,  in  regrets  that  your 
Master  is  taken  from  your  view ;  rather 
let  faith  anticipate  a  moment,  when, 
•'  in  like  manner,"  with  the  clouds  for 
his  chariot,  and  flying  "on  the  wings 
of  the  wind,"  he  shall  return  to  the 
earth  from  which  he  has  just  now  de- 
parted. The  gates  shall  again  lift  up 
their  heads  ;  the  everlasting  doors  shall 
be  opened  ;  and  the  King  of  glory,  who 
now  enters  to  assume  the  sovereignty 
won  by  his  sufferings  and  death,  shall 
come  forth  in  all  the  pomp,  and  with 
all  the  power,  of  the  anointed  Judge  of 
humankind. 

He  shall  come  forth  in  the  very  cha- 
racter under  which  admission  is  claim- 
ed for  him  in  the  text.  "The  Lord 
strong  and  mighty,  the  Lord  mighty  in 
battle."  As  yet  there  have  been  ac- 
complished but  a  portion  of  the  Old 
Testament  types  :  the  High  Priest  has 
offered  the  sacrifice,  and  carried  the 
blood  within  the  vail ;  but  he  has  not 
yet  returned  to  bless  the  gathered  mul- 
titude. The  cry  however  shall  yet  be 
heard  at  midnight ;  and  "  the  Lord 
strong  and  mighty  "  shall  approach,  to 
confound  every  enemy,  and  complete 
the  salvation  of  his  church.  And  if  we 
would  be  "  found  of  him  in  peace  "  on 
this  his  return,  we  must  see  to  it  that 
we  provide  our  lamps  with  oil  in  the 
days  of  our  strength.  I  do  not  know  a 
more  awful  part  of  Scripture  than  the 
parable  of  the  ten  virgins,  to  which,  as 
you  will  perceive,  we  here  make  allu- 
sion. We  are  always  fearful  of  dvvell- 
ing  too  strongly  on  the  minuter  parts 
of  a  parable;  but  there  is  something  so 
singular  in  the  fact,  that  the  foolish  vir- 
gins went  to  seek  oil  so  soon  as  they 
heard  of  the  bridegroom's  approach,  but 
were  nevertheless  excluded,  that  we 
dare  not  pass  it  by  as  conveying  no  les- 
son. If  the  parable  admit  of  being  ap- 
plied, as  we  suppose  it  must  in  a  modi- 
fied sense,  to  the  circumstances  of  our 
death,  does  it  not  seem  to  say  that  a  re- 
pentance, to  which  we  are  driven  by  the 


approach  of  dissolution,  will  not  be  ac- 
cepted'?  The  foolish  virgins  souo'ht  not 
for  oil,  till  alarmed  by  tidings  that  the 
bridegroom  was  at  hand ;  and  many 
think  that  it  will  be  enough  if  they  give 
heed  to  religion  when  they  shall  have  rea- 
son to  apprehend  that  their  last  day  is 
not  distant.  But  the  foolish  virgins,  al- 
though, as  it  would  seem,  they  obtained 
oil,  were  indignantly  shut  out  from  the 
banquet ;  what  then  is  to  become  of  sin- 
ners, who  in  the  day  of  sickness,  com- 
pelled by  the  urgency  of  their  case,  and 
frighted  by  the  nearness  of  their  end, 
show  something  like  sorrow,  and  profess 
something  like  faith  1 

I  own  that  nothing  makes  me  think 
so  despondingly  of  those  who  wholly 
neglect  God,  till  they  feel  themselves 
dying,  as  this  rejection  of  the  virgins, 
who  would  not  begin  to  seek  oil  till 
they  found  the  bridegroom  at  hand,  and 
then  obtained  it  in  vain.  It  is  as  though 
God  said.  If  you  will  not  seek  me  in 
health,  if  you  will  not  think  of  me  till 
sickness  tell  you  that  you  must  soon  en- 
ter my  presence,  I  will  surely  reject 
you :  when  you  knock  at  the  door  and 
say,  "  Lord,  Lord,  open  to  us,"  I  will 
answer  from  within,  "  I  never  knew  you  : 
depart,  depart  from  me."  We  dare  not 
dwell  upon  this :  we  have  a  hundred 
other  reasons  for  being  suspicious  of 
what  is  called  death-bed  repentance; 
but  this  seems  to  make  that  repentance — 
ay,  though  the  death  be  that  of  consump- 
tion, and  the  patient  linger  for  months, 
with  his  senses  about  him,  and  his  time 
apparently  given  to  the  duties  of  religion 
— of  no  avail  whatever :  for  if  the  man 
obstinately  neglected  God,  till  alarmed 
by  the  hectic  spot  on  his  cheek,  that 
hectic  spot  was  to  him  what  the  mid- 
night cry  was  to  the  virgins,  the  signal 
tliat  the  bridegroom  was  near;  and  what 
warrant  have  we  that  God  will  admit 
him  to  the  feast,  if  the  five  virgins  were 
excluded  with  every  mark  ot  aohorrence, 
though  they  sought  for  oil,  and  bought 
it,  and  brought  it  1 

We  bring  before  you  this  very  nwfui 
suggestion,  that  none  of  you  may  think 
it  too  soon  to  prepare  to  meet  the  Sa- 
vior, whose  ascension  we  have  com- 
memorated, and  for  whose  return  we 
are  directed  to  look.  Let  all,  the  young 
and  the  old,  be  ever  on  the  watch,  with 
the  loins  girt,  the  lamps  trimmed,  and 
the   lights   burning.     Let  not  that  day 


345 


THE  SPIRIT  UPON  THE  WATERS. 


overtake  any    of  us  "as  a  thief,"  as  a 
thief  not  more  because  coming  steaUhily  ' 
and  unexpectedly,  than  because  it  will  ; 
strip  us  of  our  confidence,  and  leave  us  i 
defenceless.     But  if  we  now  give  dili- 1 
gence  to  "  add  to  our  faith  virtue,  and  to 
virtue    knowledge,    and    to    knowledge 
temperance;"  if  we  labor  to  be  "  found 
of  him  ill  peace,"  appropriating  to  our- 
selves his  promises,  only  as  we  find  our- 
selves conformed  to  his  precepts ;  then  let 
•'  the  Lord,  strong  and  mighty,  the  Lord 
mighty  in  battle,"  appear  in  the  heavens  : 
we  shall  be  "  caught  up  to  meet  him  in 
the  air,  and  so  shall  we  ever  be  with  the 
Lord."    Glorious  transformation  1  glori- 
ous translation !  I  seem  already  to  behold 
the  wondrous  scene.     The  sea  and  the 


land  have  given  up  their  dead :  the  quick* 
ened  myriads  have  been  judged  accord- 
ing to  their  works.  And  now  an  innu- 
merable company,  out  of  all  nations,  and 
tribes,  and  tongues,  ascend  with  the 
Mediator  towards  the  kingdom  of  his 
Father.  Caii  it  be  that  these,  who  were 
born  children  of  wrath,  who  were  long 
enemies  to  God  by  wicked  works,  are 
to  enter  the  bright  scenes  of  paradise  1 
Yes,  he  who  leads  them,  has  washed 
them  in  his  blood  ;  he  who  leads  them, 
has  sanctified  them  by  his  Spirit ;  and 
now  you  may  hear  his  voice  in  the  sum- 
mons, "  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates, 
and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors ; 
and  these,  my  ransomed  ones,  shall  come 
in,  and  behold,  and  share  my  glories." 


SERMON    VIII. 


THE  SPIRIT  UPON  THE  WATERS* 


'«  And  itie  earth  was  without  form  and  void :  and  darkness  was  upon  the  face  of  the  deep.    And  tne  Spirit  of  God 
moved  upon  the  face  of  the  waters." — Genesis,  i.  2. 


We  are  required  on  this  day,  by  the 
ordinance  of  the  church,  to  consider 
specially  the  person  and  work  of  the 
third  person  in  the  Trinity.  The  pre- 
sent fc^ival  is  in  commemoration  of  that 
great  event,  the  pentecostal  effusion  of 
the  Spirit,  an  event  not  inferior  in  im- 
portance to  the  incarnation  of  the  Son. 
We  say,  not  inferior  in  importance,  for 
it  would  avail  us  little  that  redemption 
has  been  achieved  by  one  Divine  person, 
if  it  were  not  applied,  or  made  effectual, 
by  another.  There  is  so  much  to  fix,  and 
even  engross,  our  attention  in  the  work 
of  the  Son  ;  the  humiliation,  the  suffer- 
ings, and  the  success,  are  so  conspicuous 
and  confoundintr.  that  we  may  easily  be- 
come comparatively  uimiindfiil  of  what 
we  owe  to  the  Father  and  the  Spirit; 
though  the  persons  of  the  Trinity  are  not 


more  one  in  essence  and  dignity,  than  in 
their  claim  on  our  love,  and  their  title  to 
our  veneration. 

It  is  of  great  worth,  therefore,  that  the 
church  has  instituted  such  commemora- 
tions as  the  present ;  for,  by  bringing  be- 
fore us  in  succession  the  mysteries  of  our 
faith,  and  the  various  blessings  provided 
for  our  race,  they  do  much  towards  pre- 
venting our  dwelling  on  one  doctrine  or 
benefit,  to  the  exclusion  of  others  which 
deserve  equal  thought.  There  would 
have  been  the  same  stupendousness  and 
virtue  in  the  work  of  the  Son,  if  it  had 
never  been  followed  by  the  descent  of 
the  Spirit.     IJut  then  if  it  be  true,  that 


*  The  outline  of  this  sermon  has  been  partly 
ilerivcd  from  that  of  a  discourse  by  Dr.  Doane 
on  Vho  last  clause  of  the  verse. 


THE  SPIRIT  UPON  THE  WATEUS. 


349 


our  liearts  are  naturally  averse  from  God 
and  holiness,  so  that,  of'ourselves,  we  are 
unable  to  repent,  and  lay  hold  on  the 
proffered,  but  conditional,  deliverance, 
of  what  use  is  it  that  such  costly  provis- 
ion has  been  made  on  our  behalf,  unless 
there  be  also  provision  for  our  being 
strengthened  to  make  it  our  own  1  Thus 
such  festivals  as  Christmas  and  Easter, 
and  such  commemorations  as  Good  Fri- 
day, though  they  might  remind  us  of 
sublime  and  awful  things,  would  bring 
before  us  nothing  that  could  be  practical- 
ly of  worth  to  fallen  creatures,  if  they 
were  not  to  be  followed  by  a  Whitsun- 
day, when  might  be  celebrated  the  com- 
ing down  of  a  divine  agent  to  renew  the 
corrupt  nature.  On  this  day,  the  third 
person  of  the  Trinity  descended  to  tab- 
ernacle upon  earth,  as  on  Christmas  day 
the  second  was  "found  in  fashion  as  a 
man."  And  not  deeper,  nor  more  abun- 
dant, should  be  our  gratitude,  that,  "for 
us  men  and  for  our  salvation,"  "the  Word 
was  made  flesh,"  than  that,  "with  the 
sound  as  of  a  rushing  mighty  wind,"  the 
Comforter  came  to  take  the  things  of 
Christ,  and  show  them  to  the  soul. 

We  have  endeavored  on  former  recur- 
rences of  the  present  solemnity,  to  ex- 
plain to  you  the  scriptural  doctrine  as  to 
the  person  and  work  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
We  have  labored  to  show  you,  that  the 
Spirit  of  God  is  not,  as  some  have  vainly 
taught,  a  mere  quality,  attribute,  or  pro- 
perty of  God ;  but,  in  the  strictest  sense, 
a  Divine  person,  possessing  the  divine 
nature,  filling  divine  offices,  and  per- 
forming divine  acts.  And  as  to  the  work 
of  this  person,  we  have  described  it  to 
be  that  of  renovating  and  sanctifying  our 
nature ;  so  that,  by  secret  suggestions 
and  impulses,  by  exciting  good  desires, 
by  strengthening  our  powers  and  rectify- 
ing our  affections,  by  quickening  our  un- 
derstandings to  the  perception  of  truth, 
and  inclining  our  wills  to  obedience,  he 
~  restores  in  us  the  lost  image  of  God,  and 
fits  us  for  "the  inheritance  of  the  saints 
in  light."  Statements  such  as  these,  with 
regard  to  the  personality  and  offices  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  have  been  so  frequently 
laid  before  you,  that  we  can  hardly  con- 
sider their  repetition  necessary.  We 
shall  not,  therefore,  employ  the  present 
opportunity  on  proving  what  we  may 
believe  that  you  admit,  or  explaining 
what  we  may  hope  that  you  understand. 
But  we  will  go  back  to  the  earliest  times, 


and  see  whether  even  then,  ere  this  crea- 
tion rose  in  its  beauty,  the  Spirit  of  God 
was  not  mightily  energetic,  performing 
such  wonders  on  inanimate  matter  as 
imaged  the  yet  stranger  which  he  was 
afterwards  to  perform  upon  mind. 

It  is  not,  however,  that  we  design  to 
lay  great  stress  on  arguments  in  support 
of  the  doctaine  of  the  Tiinity,  which 
have  been  fetched  from  the  very  com- 
mencement of  the  Bible,  We  will  only 
glance  at  those  arguments.  You  are 
probably  aware,  that,  in  the  first  verse 
of  the  book  of  Genesis,  where  it  is  said, 
"  In  the  beginning  God  created  the  hea- 
vens and  the  earth,"  the  Hebrew  word, 
translated  "  God,"  is  in  the  plural,  whilst 
that  rendered  "created"  is  in  the  singular. 
From  this  it  has  been  argued,  with  much 
appearance  of  truth,  that  Moses  announ- 
ces, in  the  very  first  line  of  his  writings, 
a  plurality  of  persons  in  the  Godhead; 
for  on  what  supposition  are  we  to  explain 
the  combination  of  a  plural  noun  with  a 
singular  verb,  unless  we  allow  that  God 
may  be  spoken  of  in  the  plural,  because 
there  are  several  persons  in  the  Godhead, 
and  at  the  same  time  in  the  singular,  be« 
cause  those  persons  constitute  the  one 
indivisible  Jehovah  1  If  we  had  nothing 
but  this  verbal  criticism,  on  which  to  rest 
the  doctrine  of  a  plurality  of  persons  in 
the  Godhead,  we  might  feel  it  insufficient 
for  so  weighty  a  superstructure.  But 
we  may  fairly  say,  that,  when  we  have 
proved  the  doctrine  on  less  questionable 
evidence,  there  can  be  no  reason  for  our 
rejecting  this  auxiliary  testimony,  a  tes- 
timony peculiarly  interesting  from  the 
place  in  which  it  occui's,  seeing  that  the 
Bible  thus  commences  with  an  intimation 
of  the  Trinity  in  unity. 

And  it  is  remarkable,  that,  having  thus 
hinted  at  there  being  several  persons  in 
the  Godhead,  Moses  immediately  pro- 
ceeded to  speak  of  one  of  these  persons, 
and  to  ascribe  to  Him  a  great  office  in 
the  construction  of  this  globe.  If  indeed 
this  were  the  only  passage  in  which  we 
found  mention  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  we 
should  hardly  be  warranted  in  conclud- 
ing from  it  the  personality  and  Deity  of 
the  Holy  Ghost.  Had  our  text  stood 
alone,  it  might  perhaps  with  justice  have 
been  said,  that  nothing  more  was  intend- 
ed by  the  Spirit  of  God,  than  an  energy, 
or  quality,  appertaining  to  God.  But 
when  we  have  fortified  ourselves  from 
other  Scriptures  with  abundant  evidenca 


35'i 


THE  SPIRIT  rrO\  THE  WATERS. 


that  the  Spirit  is  a  person,  and  that  too 
a  Divine  person,  it  is  highly  interesting 
t<i  turn  to  the  opening  of  the  Bible,  and 
tliere  to  find  this  agent  introduced  into 
tlie  business  of  creation — the  earliest  his- 
torian combining  with  the  latest  evangel- 
ist to  proclaim  his  title,  and  to  ascribe  to 
him  operation?^  which  are  beyond  finite 
power.  And  if  you  further  recollect,  how, 
in  various  paits  of  the  New  Testament, 
ihe  work  of  creation  is  distinctly  attribut- 
ed to  Christ,  as  the  eternal  Son  or  Word 
of  God ;  and  then  observe  the  same  work 
ascribed,  in  the  first  page  of  Scripture, 
to  the  Spirit  of  God  ;  you  can  hardly 
fail  to  allow  that  the  great  doctrine  of 
the  Trinity  pervades  the  whole  Bible  : 
it  is  not  indeed  stated  every  where  so 
distinctly  that  it  cannot  be  overlooked  ; 
but  it  may  easily  be  detected  in  passages 
whose  witness  to  it  might  be  doubtful, 
if  we  were  not  certified  by  others  of  its 
truth. 

But  it  is  very  important,  that,  in  our 
contests  for  fundamental  articles  of  faith, 
we  fihould  not  rest  on  weak  or  dubious 
arguments.  An  insufficient  defence  is  a 
great  injury  to  truth.  Whilst,  then,  we 
believe  that  there  really  are  traces  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  Trinity  in  the  passages 
to  which  we  have  referred,  and  in  similar 
which  might  be  adduced,  we  should  hold 
it  unwise  to  lay  much  stress  upon  them  in 
debate  with  the  Unitarian.  They  are 
not  our  strong  points ;  and  we  give  him 
an  advantage  by  insisting  on  our  weaker. 
Thus,  for  example,  we  may  be  ourselves 
quite  persuaded,  that  the  recorded  ap- 
pearance of  God  to  Abraham  in  the  plain 
of  Mamre,  was  a  manifestation  to  that 
patriarch  of  the  Trinity  in  unity.  Three 
men  appeared,  and  yet  only  the  Lord  is 
said  to  have  api^eared  :  and  each  of  the 
three  persons  used  language,  or  did 
things,  which  went  to  the  proving  him 
divine.  Our  church  accordingly  fixes  as 
one  of  the  lessons  for  Trinity  Sunday, 
the  chapter  which  contains  the  account 
of  this  appearance.  Still,  though  we  may 
be  quite  satisfied  that  theie  was  thus 
given  a  symbolical  notice  of  the  doctrine 
of  the  Trinity,  we  would  not  attach 
weight  to  it  in  arguing  with  the  opponent 
of  the  doctrine  :  we  feel  that  ho  might 
easily  urge  many  specious  objections, 
and  that  we  should  take  dangerous 
ground  by  appealing  to  an  occurrence, 
whose  significative  character  is  not  as- 
serted in  Scripture. 


But  whilst  we  thus  caution  you  against 
taking  as  sufficient  arguments,  what,  af- 
ter all,  may  be  only  doubtful  intimations, 
we  may  yet  affirm  it  both  pleasing  and 
profitable,  to  mark  what  may  be  called 
the  first  hints  of  truths,  which  were  to 
be  afterwards  clearly  revealed.  There 
is  all  the  difference  between  what  will 
be  likely  to  work  conviction  in  an  ad- 
versary, and  what  may  minister  to  the 
confidence  of  a  believer.  And  if  the 
Unitarian  will  not  go  with  me  into  pa- 
triarchal times,  and  trace  on  the  yet 
young  creation  the  vestiges  of  an  incar- 
nate Deity,  it  may  tend  greatly  to  the 
strengthening  my  own  faith,  and  the 
heightening  my  own  joy,  that  I  can  fol- 
low "  the  angel  of  the  covenant,"  as  he 
appears  and  disappears  amongst  the 
fathers  of  our  race  :  and  though  I  may 
not  count  it  safe  to  rest  the  doctrine  of 
the  Trinity  on  the  earliest  inspired  re- 
cords, I  may  observe  with  delight  that 
God  spake  in  the  plural  number  when 
he  formed  Adam  of  the  dust,  and  be  con  ■ 
firmed  in  my  creed  by  hearing,  that, 
whilst  the  earth  was  "  without  form  and 
void,"  "the  Spirit  of  God  moved  on  the 
face  of  the  waters." 

But  we  will  now  leave  this  more  ge- 
neral discussion,  and  confine  ourselves 
to  the  examination  of  the  words  of  our 
text.  We  shall  hereafter  give  you  rea- 
sons for  considering  that  these  words 
admit  of  a  two-fold  application — to  na- 
tural things  and  to  spiritual.  At  present 
we  assume  this,  and  therefore  announce 
the  two  following  as  our  topics  of  dis- 
course— the  first,  the  moving  of  God's 
Spirit  on  the  waters  of  the  material 
creation ;  the  second,  his  moving  on 
waters,  of  which  these  may  be  regarded 
as  in  some  degree  typical. 

Now  there  has  been  much  anxiety 
felt  in  modern  times  by  the  supporters 
of  revelation,  on  account  of  alleged  dis- 
coveries in  science,  which  apparently 
contradict  the  Mosaic  record  of  the  crea 
tion.  We  had  been  accustomed  to  con- 
clude, with  the  Bible  for  our  guide,  that 
this  globe  was  not  quite  six  thousand 
years  old ;  that,  six  thousand  years  ago, 
the  matter  of  which  it  is  composed  was 
not  in  existence,  much  less  was  it  the 
home  of  animal  or  vegetable  life.  We 
had  been  accustomed  to  think,  that,  un- 
less man  had  fallen,  there  would  have 
been  no  decay  and  no  death  in  this 
creation,   so   that   every   beast   of   the 


THE  SPIRIT  UPON  THE  WATERS. 


351 


field  would  have  walked  in  immortal 
strength,  and  every  tree  of  the  forest 
have  waved  in  immortal  verdure.  But 
modern  science  is  quite  counter  to  these 
our  suppositions  and  conclusions :  for 
the  researches  of  the  geologist  oblige 
us  to  assign  millions,  rather  than  thou- 
sands of  years  as  the  age  of  this  globe, 
and  to  allow  it  to  have  been  tenanted  by 
successive  tribes  of  living  things,  long 
before  the  time  when  man  was  summon- 
ed into  being. 

It  would  in  no  sense  be  fitting  that 
we  should  here  examine  the  facts,  or 
the  reasonings,  by  which  the  geologist 
substantiates  his  position.  But  we  are 
bound  to  declare  our  persuasion,  that, 
to  any  candid  mind,  the  facts  and  the 
reasonings,  duly  scrutinized  and  weigh- 
ed, must  appear  quite  conclusive ;  so 
that  every  student  of  the  sti'ucture, 
every  inquirer  into  the  phenomena  of 
the  globe  on  which  we  dwell,  must,  we 
think,  be  almost  forced  to  acknowledge 
that  the  earth  bears  on  itself  dates 
which  prove  well-nigh  immeasurable 
antiquity,  and  contains  the  relics  of 
animated  tribes,  whose  existence  can 
never  be  brought  within  the  limits  of 
human  chronology.  It  is  of  no  avail 
that  we  shut  our  eyes  to  the  pro- 
gress of  science,  and  entrench  ourselves 
within  old  interpretations  of  Scripture. 
We  must  go  forward  with  the  general 
advance  of  knowledge :  for  unless  the- 
ology can  at  least  keep  pace  with  phi- 
losophy, it  shall  hardly  be  able  to  cope 
with  infidelity. 

And,  for  our  own  part,  we  have  no 
fear  that  any  discoveries  of  science  will 
really  militate  against  the  disclosures 
of  Scripture.  We  remember  how,  in 
darker  days,  ecclesiastics  set  themselves 
against  philosophers,  who  were  investi- 
gating the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies, 
apprehensive  that  the  new  theories  were 
at  variance  with  the  Bible,  and  there- 
fore resolved  to  denounce  them  as  here- 
sies, and  stop  their  spread  by  persecu- 
tion. But  truth  triumphed  ;  bigotry  and 
ignorance  could  not  long  prevail  to  the 
hiding  from  the  world  the  harmonious 
walkings  of  stars  and  planets  ;  and  ever 
since,  the  philosophy  which  laid  open  the 
wonders  of  the  universe,  hath  proved 
herself  the  handmaid  of  the  revelation 
which  divulged  secrets  far  beyond  her 
gaze.  And  thus,  we  are  persuaded, 
Bhall  it   always  be :  science  may  scale , 


new  heights,  and  explore  new  depths ; 
but  she  shall  bring  back  nothing  from 
her  daring  and  successful  excursions 
which  will  not,  when  rightly  understood, 
yield  a  fresh  tribute  of  testimony  to  the 
Bible.  Infidelity  may  watch  her  pro- 
gress with  eagerness,  exulting  in  the 
thought  that  she  is  furnishing  facts  with 
which  the  christian  system  may  be  strono-- 
ly  assailed  ;  but  the  champions  of  revela- 
tion may  confidently  attend  her  in  eve- 
ry march,  assured  that  she  will  find  no- 
thing which  contradicts,  if  it  do  not  ac- 
tually confirm,  the  word  which  they 
know  to  be  divine. 

For  though  it  may  be  true  that  we 
have  no  right  to  look  in  the  Bible  for 
instruction  in  natural  things,  it  appears 
to  us  equally  true,  that  we  have  right 
to  expect  that  it  will  contain  nothing 
that  is  false  in  reference  to  any  subject 
whatsoever.  It  does  not  profess  to  treat  ot 
natural  things ;  and,  therefore,  it  would 
be  unjust  to  open  it  with  the  expecta 
tion  that  natural  things  will  be  explain 
ed  in  its  pages.  But  it  does  profess  tc 
be  throughout  an  inspired  document, 
and  therefore  to  contain  nothing  but 
truth ;  and  we  think  it,  on  this  account, 
most  just  to  expect,  that,  if  it  ever  make 
a  reference,  however  incidental,  to  na- 
tural things,  the  reference  will  be  ono 
which  may  be  tested  by  all  scientific 
discoveries,  and  proved  in  thorough  con- 
sistence therewith.  We  count  it  most 
important  that  this  distinction  should  be 
borne  in  mind  ;  for  whilst  we  hold  that 
it  would  be  no  argument  against  revela- 
tion, if  it  were  wholly  silent  on  the  struc- 
ture of  the  earth,  and  the  motions  of  the 
heavens — seeing  that  its  object  is  to 
unfold  to  us  yet  deeper  things — we 
equally  hold  that  it  would  be  an  argu- 
ment against  it,  if  it  ever  spake  of  these 
matters  in  a  way  that  would  not  bear 
being  confronted  with  ascertamed  truths. 
It  is  thus  with  regard  to  the  discoveries 
of  the  geologist.  We  should  have  had 
no  right  to  require,  as  a  necessary  part 
of  a  revelation  from  God,  an  account  of 
the  formation  of  bur  material  system. 
The  Bible  might  perhaps  have  been 
complete  for  all  moral  purposes,  if  there 
had  been  no  such  account  on  its  pages. 
But  if  the  inspired  writer  take  upon  him- 
self to  give  an  account  of  the  formation 
of  the  earth  and  the  heavens,  we  have 
full  right  to  expect  that  this  account  will 
be  throughly  accurate;  and  we  cannot 


352 


THE  SPIRIT  UPON  THE  WATERS. 


but  think,  that  if  this  account  were  ab- 
solutely irreconcilable  with  established 
conclusions  of  geology,  some  cause 
would  be  given  for  questioning  whether 
Moses  wrote  under  the  guidance  of  the 
Spirit  of  God. 

But  there  has  not  yet  been,  and  we  are 
sure  there  never  will  be,  made  out  the 
impossibility  of  reconciling  the  discover- 
ies of  geology  with  the  Mosaic  account 
of  the  creation.  We  would  adopt  the  state- 
ment which  has  been  increasingly  adopt- 
ed and  supportedby  our  divines,  that  the 
two  lirst  verses  of  the  book  of  Genesis 
have  no  immediate  connection  with  those 
that  follow.  They  describe  the  first 
creation  of  matter;  but,  so  far  as  any 
thing  to  the  contrary  is  stated,  a  million 
of  ages  may  have  elapsed  between  this 
first  creation,  and  God's  saying  "  Let  there 
be  light,"  and  proceeding  to  mould  mat- 
ter into  a  dwelling-place  for  man.  You 
cannot  show  that  the  third  verse  is  ne- 
cessarily consecutive  on  the  two  first,  so 
that  what  is  recorded  in  the  one  may  not 
be  separated,  by  a  long  interval,  from 
what  is  recorded  in  the  others.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  clear  that  the  interval  may 
be  wholly  indefinite,  quite  as  long  as 
geology  can  possibly  ask  for  all  those 
mighty  transformations,  those  ponderous 
successions,  of  which  it  affirms  that  it 
can  produce  indubitable  evidence.  And 
we  cannot  but  observe  the  exti-eme  ac- 
curacy of  the  scriptural  language.  It 
seems  to  be  nowhere  said  that  in  six 
days  God  created  the  heavens  and  the 
earth ;  but,  as  in  the  fourth  command- 
ment, that,  "in  six  days  the  Lord  made 
heaven  and  earth."  Creation  was  the 
act  of  bringing  out  of  nothing  the  matter 
of  which  all  things  were  constructed ; 
aud  this  was  done  before  the  six  days  ; 
afterwards,  and  dui'ing  the  six  days,  God 
made  the  heaven  and  the  earth ;  he 
moulded,  that  is,  and  formed  into  differ- 
ent bodies,  the  matter  which  he  had  long 
ago  created.  And  it  is  no  objection  to 
this,  that  God  is  said  to  have  ci'eated 
man  on  the  sixth  day  ;  for  you  afterwards 
read  that  "God  formcid  man  of  the  dust 
of  the  groiwid ;"  so  that  it  was  of  pre- 
existent  mutter  that  Adam  was  compos- 
ed. We  seem,  thetcforc,  warranted  in 
saying  tliat  with  the  third  verse  of  the 
first  cliapter  of  (Jenesis  commences  the 
account  of  the  production  of  the  present 
order  and  system  of  tilings  ;  and  that  to 
this  Moses  confines  himself,  describing 


the  earth  as  made  ready  for  man,  withoul 
stopping  to  speak  of  its  previous  condi- 
tions. i3ut  since  he  does  not  associate 
the  first  creation  of  matter  with  this  pre- 
paration of  the  globe  for  its  rational  in- 
habitants, he  in  no  degree  opposes  the 
supposition,  that  the  globe  existed  im- 
measurably before  man,  that  it  underwent 
a  h^ng  series  of  revolutions,  was  tenanted 
by  animals,  and  clothed  with  vegetation. 

And  though  you  may  think  it  strange 
that  there  should  have  been  death  before 
there  had  been  sin,  you  are  to  remember 
that  there  is  nothing  in  the  Bible  to  in- 
form us  that  animals  die  because  man 
was  disobedient.  We  may  have  been 
accustomed  to  think  so  ;  but  we  do  not 
see  how  it  can  be  proved.  And  when 
you  observe  that  whole  tribes  of  animals 
are  made  to  prey  upon  others,  this  species 
being  manifestly  designed  for  the  food 
of  that,  you  will  perhaps  find  it  hard  to 
believe  that  every  living  thing  was  origi- 
nally meant  to  live  for  ever  ;  you  will  ask 
something  better  than  a  popular  per- 
suasion, ere  you  conclude  that  the  insect 
of  a  day  was  intended  to  be  immortal : 
or  that  what  is  the  appointed  sustenance 
of  a  stronger  race,  was  also  appointed  to 
be  actually  indestructible. 

These  then  are  the  general  views  which 
we  think  furnished  by,  or,  at  least,  con- 
sistent with  our  text  and  the  preceding 
verse.  We  take  these  verses  as  the  on- 
ly record  which  God  hath  been  pleased 
to  give  of  a  mysterious,  and  probably  im- 
mense, period,  whose  archives  are  found, 
by  the  scientific  eye,  sculptured  on  the 
rocks,  or  buried  in  the  caves  of  the  earth. 
They  refer  to  ages,  in  comparison  per- 
haps of  which  the  human  chronology  is 
but  a  s))an,  and  of  which,  though  we 
have  received  no  written  history,  we  can 
read  the  transactions  in  the  fuel  which 
we  heap  on  our  fires,  and  in  the  bones 
which  we  dig  from  our  hills.  And  there 
appears  to  us  something  surpassingly  su- 
blime in  the  thought,  that  our  text  may 
be  thus  the  general  description  of  an  in- 
definite interval,  from  the  creation  of 
matter  to  the  production  of  man.  VVs 
do  not  know  a  grander  contemjilation 
than  that  to  which  the  mind  is  summon- 
ed, when  required  to  consider  this  giol-e 
as  of  an  antiquity  which  almost  bailies 
calculation,  and  as  having  been  pre])arcd, 
by  changes  wliich  may  have  each  occu- 
pied a  series  of  ages,  for  the  residence 
of  beings  created  in  the  image  of  God. 


THE  SPIRIT  UPON  THE  WATERS. 


353 


We  know,  of  course,  that,  however  far 
back  we  carry  the  origin  of  all  things, 
there  must  have  been  a  moment  when 
God  was  literally  alone  in  immensity; 
and  that  the  longest,  as  well  as  the  short- 
est, reach  of  time,  must  be  as  nothing  in 
comparison  of  eternity.  But,  neverthe- 
less, to  minds  constituted  as  our  own, 
there  is  something  inconceivably  more 
commanding  in  the  thought,  that  the 
earth  has  existed  for  ages  which  are  not 
to  be  reckoned,  and  that,  from  time  im- 
memorial it  has  been  a  theatre  for  the 
display  of  divine  power  and  benevolence, 
than  in  this,  that  it  rose  out  of  nothing 
six  thousand  years  ago.  In  the  one  case, 
but  not  in  the  other,  we  assign  to  the 
agency  of  God  an  immeasurable  period,  a 
period  throughout  which  there  have  been 
Bwarms  of  animated  things,  which  only 
God  could  have  produced,  and  only  God 
could  have  sustained  ;  and  thus  repre- 
sent Deity  as  pouring  forth  the  riches 
of  his  wisdom  and  goodness,  and  gather- 
ing in  the  tribute  of  mute  homage  from 
unnumbei'ed  tribes,  when,  perhaps,  there 
were  yet  no  seraphim  to  hymn  his 
praises,  and  no  cherubim  to  execute  his 
will. 

It  is  when  surveyed  under  the  point 
of  view  thus  indicated,  that  our  text  ap- 
pears most  interesting  and  imposing.  It 
is  not,  we  suppose,  the  i-ecord  of  a  soli- 
tary interference  of  creative  might,  but 
of  a  series  of  amazing  revolutions,  each 
of  which  was  effected  by  the  immediate 
agency  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  The  earth 
passed  from  one  state  to  another ;  islands, 
and  continents,  and  waters  assuming  dif- 
ferent froms  and  proportions,  and  being 
successively  fitted  for  different  living 
tribes.  And,  on  each  transition,  there 
may  have  been  such  an  overthrow  of  the 
previous  system,  and  such  an  approx- 
imation towai'ds  the  original  chaos,  that 
the  earth  may  have  been  "  without  form 
and  void,"  and  darkness  may  have  rested 
upon  "the  face  of  the  ueep."  But,  in 
each  case,  "  the  Spirit  of  God  moved  up- 
on the  face  of  the  waters."  The  word  is 
rather,  "  brooded  over  the  waters,"  as  a 
hen,  extending  her  wings,  that  vital 
warmth  may  be  communicated,  and  the 
egs  resolve  itself  into  a  living  thing. 
The  Spiritof  God,  whose  especial  office  it 
is  to  impart  life  and  vigor,  so  acted  on  the 
inert  and  insensible  particles  of  the  ele- 
mental mass,  as  to  imprint  on  them  those 
laws,  and  infuse  into  them  those  proper- 


ties, which  were  to  constitute  what  we 
are  wmit  to  call  nature,  under  each  suc- 
cessive dispensation.  It  was  not  that 
matter  had  any  power  or  tendency,  of 
itself,  from  its  own  inherent  energies  and 
qualities,  to  assume  certain  forms,  and 
mingle  in  certain  combinations.  It  was 
only  that  a  vivifying  Spirit  busied  itself 
with  its  innumerable  atoms,  communicat- 
ing to  each  precisely  what  would  fit  it  for 
its  part  or  place  in  the  new  order  of  things; 
so  that  sea,  and  land,  and  air  might  swarra 
with  the  productions  which  God  appoint- 
ed to  succeed  to  the  extinct.  And  thus 
may  revolution  after  revolution  have  been 
effected,  not  so  much  through  the  opera- 
tion of  second  causes,  as  through  the 
mysterious,  but  mighty,  brooding  of  that 
celestial  Agent,  who  still  acts  as  the  vivi- 
fier,  and  still  extracts  order  and  beauty 
from  the  moral  chaos  of  humanity.  One 
condition  of  the  globe  and  its  inhabitants 
may  have  succeeded  to  another,  till,  at 
length,  the  time  approached  when  God 
had  determined  the  production  of  a  be- 
ing who  was  to  wear  his  likeness  and 
act  as  his  vicegerent.  Then  was  the 
earth  once  more  mantled  with  darkness  : 
land  and  water  were  confounded  :  and  the 
various  tribes  of  animated  nature  perish- 
ed in  the  elemental  war.  But  a  resistless 
agency  was  at  work,  permeating  the 
shapeless  and  boiling  mass,  and  prepar- 
ing it  for  edicts  to  be  issued  on  what  we 
ordinarily  call  the  six  days  of  creation. 
The  globe  was  henceforward  to  be  the 
dwelling-place  of  rational,  yea,  immortal 
beings  ;  it  must  therefore  be  impregnat- 
ed with  a  fertility,  and  enamelled  with 
a  beauty,  to  which  it  had  been  heretofore 
a  stranger ;  and  nobler  things  must  walk 
its  fields,  and  haunt  its  waters, fit  subjects 
of  a  ruler  who  was  to  bear  his  Maker's 
image.  With  the  adapting  matter  to  this 
loftier  and  more  glorious  state  of  things 
was  the  third  person  of  the  Trinity 
chai'ged,  the  agent,  as  we  suppose,  in 
every  former  revolution.  And  when,  at 
divine  command,  the  earth  brought  forth 
the  fresh  green  grass,  and  trees  hung  at 
once  with  varied  fruit  and  foliage  ;  and 
the  waters  teemed  with  the  moving 
species  that  have  life ;  and  the  dry  land 
and  the  air  were  crowded  with  stately 
and  beautiful  creatures,  waiting  the  ap- 
pearance of  their  appointed  lord, — Oh, 
it  was  not  that  there  were  natural  pro- 
cesses which  had  gradually  wrought  out 
the  chambers  and  furniture  of  a  raagni* 
45 


354 


THE  SPIRIT  UPON  THE  WATERS. 


ficent  palace ;  it  was  rather,  that  whilst 
'•the  earth  was  without  form  and  void," 
the  Spirit  of  God  had  "moved  upon  the 
face  of  the  waters." 

But  we  have  now  to  ask  your  atten- 
tion to  wholly  different  truths.  AVe  pro- 
posed, in  the  second  place,  to  pass  from 
natural  to  spiritual  things,  and  to  con- 
sider our  text  in  a  figurative  sense. 
We  were,  however,  to  give  you  reasons 
that  might  justify  the  two-fold  applica- 
tion of  the  passage.  It  may  suflice  to 
observe,  that  the  work  attributed  to  the 
Holy  Spirit  in  the  text,  may  serve  as  a 
type  of  that  which  this  divine  agent 
came  down  at  Pentecost  to  perform. 
The  Gospel  of  St.  John  commences  in 
the  same  strain,  and  with  the  same  sub- 
lime abruptness,  as  the  book  of  Genesis  : 
as  though  the  historians  of  the  New 
Testament  and  of  the  Old  had  to  give 
the  narratives  of  similar  ci-eations.  And 
forasmuch  as  that  moral  change,  which 
passes  U]>on  those  who  become  heirs  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,  is  described  in 
the  Bible  as  nothing  less  than  a  new 
creation,  and  is  moreover  ascribed  to  the 
agency  of  that  Spirit  which  brooded 
over  the  waters  of  the  primitive  chaos, 
there  can,  at  least,  be  nothing  unreason- 
able in  the  supposition  that  a  typical 
character  attaches,  in  some  degree,  to 
the  scriptural  account  of  the  formation 
of  all  things. 

You  will  find  it,  we  believe,  to  have 
been  the  general  opinion  of  the  fathers 
of  the  church,  that  the  waters  of  which 
we  read  in  the  very  beginning  of  the 
Bible,  were  a  figure  of  those  of  baptism  : 
60  that,  as  the  world  may  be  said  to  have 
been  produced  from  the  waters  on 
which  the  Spirit  first  moved,  the  church 
may  be  said  to  come  forth  from  those 
sacramental  waters,  whose  virtue  is  de- 
rived frt)m  that  self-same  Spirit's  brood- 
ing. In  accordance  with  such  opinion, 
we  believe  it  to  be  specially  in  and 
througli  tlic  sacrament  of  baptism,  that 
the  Holy  Ghost  acts  in  renovating  the 
nature,  which  became  corrupt  through 
apostacy.  We  deprecate,  indeed,  as 
much  as  any  man,  the  so  ascribing  vir- 
tue to  a  sacrament,  that  those  who  have 
partaken  of  it  may  be  led  to  feel  sure 
that  they  need  no  other  change,  no  great- 
er mora!  amelioration,  than  lias  been 
thereby  effected  or  procuieil.  But,  with- 
out doing  tliis,  we  may  attribute  to  ])ap- 
iiam  regenerating  eflicacy.     Wo  would 


ourselves  be  constantly  using,  and  press- 
ing upon  others  the  use  of  the  collect 
of  our  church  for  Christmas-day,  in 
which  the  prayer  is,  "  Grant  that  we, 
being  regenerate  and  made  thy  children 
by  adoption  and  grace,  may  daily  be  re- 
newed by  thy  Holy  Spirit,"  a  prayer  in 
which  the  suj)plicants  undeniably  re- 
present themselves  as  already  regener- 
ate, and  adopted  into  God's  family  ;  but 
in  which,  nevertheless,  they  ask  for 
daily  renewal,  and  that  too  through  the 
workings  of  God's  Spiiit.  The  church 
here  evidently  distinguishes  between  re- 
generation and  renewal,  just  as  the  apos- 
tle does,  when  he  speaks  of  being  saved 
by  "  the  washing  of  regeneration,  and 
the  renewing  of  the  Holy  Ghost;"  re- 
generation, you  observe,  being  closely 
associated  with  water — "  the  washing 
of  regeneration  " — and  not  confounded 
with  that  renovation  which  the  Holy 
Spirit  effects  in  true  believers.  If  then 
the  church  say  that  regeneration  takes 
place  at  baptism,  she  does  not  say  that 
no  renewal  is  needed  besides  this  rege- 
neration ;  why,  therefore,  should  the 
church  be  taunted,  as  though  she  attach- 
ed inordinate  value  to  a  sacrament,  and 
taught  men,  that,  because  sprinkled  in 
infancy,  they  stand  in  need  of  no  further 
change  1 

That  the  church  of  England  does  hold, 
and  does  teach,  baptismal  regenei-ation, 
would  never,  we  must  venture  to  think, 
have  been  disputed,  had  not  men  been 
anxious  to  remain  in  her  communion, 
and  yet  to  make  her  formularies  square 
with  their  own  private  notions.  The 
words  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  officiat- 
ing minister,  immediately  after  every 
baptism,  "  Seeing  now,  dearly  beloved, 
that  this  child  is  regenerate,"  seem  too 
distinct  to  be  explained  away,  and  too 
general  for  any  of  those  limitations  by 
which  some  would  restrict  them.  You 
may  tell  r^«  that  the  church  sjieaks  only 
in  the  judgment  of  charity,  on  the  sup- 
position that  there  has  been  genuine  faith 
in  those  who  have  brought  the  infant  to 
the  font.  But,  even  on  this  modified 
view,  the  church  holds  baptismal  regener- 
ation :  she  holds,  that,  if  not  invariably, 
yet  under  certain  circumstances,  infants 
are  regenerate,  only  because  baptized. 
We  cannot,  however,  admit  that  the 
language  is  only  the  language  of  that 
charity  which  "hopetli  all  things."  Had 
the  church  not  designed  to  go  fuither 


THE  SPIRIT  UPON  THE  WATEHS. 


355 


than  this,  she  mi<5ht  have  said,  "Seeing 
that  wc  may  charitably  believe,"  or, 
"  Seeing  that  we  may  cliaritably  hope 
that  this  child  is  regenerate  :"  she  could 
never  have  ventured  on  the  broad  un- 
qualified declaration,  a  declaration  to  be 
made  whensoever  the  sacrament  of  bap- 
tism has  been  administered,  "  Seeing  that 
this  child  is  regenerate  ;"  and  then  have 
gone  on  to  require  of  the  congregation 
to  express  their  gratitude  in  such  woids 
as  these,  "We  yield  thee  hearty  thanks, 
most  merciful  Father,  that  it  hath  pleas- 
ed thee  to  regenerate  this  infant  with  thy 
Holy  Spirit."  We  really  think  that  no 
fair,  no  straightforward  dealing  can  get 
rid  of  the  conclusion,  that  the  church 
holds  what  is  called  baptismal  regenera- 
tion. You  may  dislike  the  doctrine : 
you  may  wish  it  expunged  from  the 
prayei'-book  ;  but  so  long  as  I  subscribe 
to  that  prayer-book,  and  so  long  as  I  of- 
ficiate according  to  the  forms  of  that 
prayer-book,  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  be 
commonly  honest,  and  yet  deny  that 
every  baptized  person  is,  on  that  account, 
regenerate. 

i3ut  then,  if  you  charge  on  the  church, 
that  because  she  holds  this  she  holds  that 
every  baptized  person  has  so  undergone, 
that  he  must  retain  all  the  moral  change 
necessary  for  admission  into  heaven,  you 
overlook  other  parts  of  the  baptismal  ser- 
vice which  strongly  rebut  your  accusa- 
tion. No  sooner  has  the  church  pronouno* 
edthe  infant  regenerate,  than  she  asks  the 
prayers  of  the  people,  that  "this  child 
may  lead  the  rest  of  his  life  according  to 
this  beginning" — evidently  intimating 
her  belief,  that,  though  regenerate,  the 
child  may  possibly  not  go  on  to  that  re- 
newal of  nature,  which  alone  can  secure 
godly  living.  And  what  are  we  to  say 
of  the  appointment  of  sponsors,  parties 
from  whom  the  church  requires  vows  in 
the  name  of  the  child,  and  to  whom  she 
commits  the  instruction  of  the  child,  if 
not  that  the  church  feels,  that,  whatever 
the  benefits  conferred  by  baptism,  they 
remove  not  the  necessity  for  the  use  of 
all  those  means,  by  which  sinners  may 
be  brought  nigh  to  God,  and  upheld  in  a 
state  of  acceptance  1  The  church  then 
holds  that  baptism  regenerates  :  but  the 
church  does  not  hold  that  all  who  are 
thus  regenerate,  can  never  need  any  fur- 
ther moral  change  in  order  to  fitness  flir 
heaven. 

And  we  freely  own  that  we  know  not 


j  how,  consistently  with  Scripture,  the 
•  church  could  do  otherwise  than  maintain 
that  what  is  called  the  second  birth  is 
effected  at  baptism.  Our  Lord's  words 
are  very  explicit,  "  Except  a  man  be  born 
of  water  and  of  the  Spirit,  he  cannot  en- 
ter into  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  It  can 
hardly  be  disputed  that  the  being  "born 
of  water"  refers  to  baptism — any  other 
interpretation  must  be  so  strained,  that  to 
mention  would  be  to  refute  it.  But  if 
we  are  "born  of  water"  in  baptism,  do 
you  mean  to  say  that  it  is  at  some  other 
time  that  we  are  "born  of  the  Spirit  1" 
Then  there  is  a  third  birth,  as  well  as  a 
second  ;  and  of  this  1  do  not  think  we 
I'ead  in  any  part  of  Scripture.  The  wa- 
ter and  the  Spirit  seem  compared  to  two 
agents  which  meet  in  order  to  the  pro- 
duction of  a  new  creature.  The  birth 
spoken  of  is  not  from  the  water  by  itself, 
neither  is  it  from  the  Spirit  by  itself: 
the  simile  would  hardly  have  been  drawn 
from  a  birth,  had  there  not  been  agencies 
which  might  be  said  to  combine,  and 
which  might  therefore  be  likened  to 
parents.  Hence,  if  it  be  in  baptism  that 
we  are  "born  of  water,"  it  must  also  be 
in  baptism  that  we  are  "  born  of  the 
Spirit" — otherwise  you  make  Christ 
speak  of  two  births,  where  he  manifest- 
ly speaks  only  of  one  ;  and  you  represent 
him  moreover  as  using  a  simile  which  is 
scarcely  in  place,  unless  two  agencies 
unite  to  eff'ect  a  result. 

We  believe  then,  in  accordance  with 
the  doctrine  of  our  church,  a  doctrine 
of  whose  agreement  with  Scripture  we 
are  thoroughly  persuaded,  that  every 
baptized  person  has  entered,  in  virtue 
of  his  baptism,  on  a  condition  so  differ- 
ent from  his  natural,  become  entitled  to 
such  privileges,  and  endowed  with  such 
grace,  that  he  may  be  described  as  re- 
generate, or  born  again  from  above. 
He  may  fail  to  be  finally  advantaofed  by 
this  adoption  into  God's  visible  family. 
He  inay  not  be  trained  up  as  a  member 
of  that  family  should  be  trained:  there 
may  be  no  atteinpt  at  making  use  of  his 
privileges,  none  at  acquiring  or  cherish- 
ing the  dispositions  which  should  char- 
acterize God's  children,  none  at  con- 
solidating and  perpetuating  that  mem 
bership  which  was  derived  to  him  by 
his  initiation  into  the  church.  But  this  is 
only  saying,  that,  having  been  made  a 
child  of  God,  he  may  fail  at  last  to  be  an 
heir  of  the  kingdom,  through  failing  IQ 


356 


THE  SPIRIT  UPON  THE  WATERS. 


conform  himself  to  the  known  will,  and 
to  improve  the  oft'ered  mercies,  of  his 
Father  in  heaven.  He  may  he  reckoned 
with  tlie  sons,  because  he  has  been  re- 
generated, and  nevertheless  be  disinher- 
ited at  the  last,  because  he  lias  never  la- 
bored after,  and  therefoie  never  acquir- 
ed, that  thorough  moral  renewal,  of 
which  his  regeneration  was  at  once  the 
pledge  and  the  commencement. 

Let  us  pause  for  a  moment,  and  en- 
deavor to  explain  how  it  comes  to  pass 
that  there  is  so  little  of  visible  efficacy 
in  the  sacrament  of  baptism.  We  would 
illustrate  from  the  account  of  the  restor- 
ation of  the  daughter  of  .Jairus  :  Christ 
raised  her  from  the  dead  by  miracle  ; 
but  immediately  commanded  that  means 
should  be  used  for  sustaining  the  life  thus 
supernaturally  communicated.  "And 
her  spirit  came  again,  and  she  arose 
straightway  ;  and  he  commanded  to  give 
her  meat."  We  can  gather  the  history 
of  the  unconverted  amongst  you  from 
this  simple  narrative.  Whilst  they  were 
yet  young,  too  young  to  feel  or  act  for 
themselves,  their  parents  were  conscious 
that  they  labored  under  great  moral  sick- 
ness, a  sickness  which  was  even  unto 
death  ;  and  they  went  therefore  to  Jesus, 
and  besought  him  to  make  them  whole. 
And,  by  command  of  tlio  great  Pliyftician, 
were  the  children  sprinkled  with  the 
waters  of  baptism,  and  thus  made  mem- 
bers of  his  church,  and  heirs  of  his  king- 
dom. Here  was  miracle  :  the  child  of 
wrath  became  a  child  of  God  :  the  guilt 
of  original  sin  was  removed  ;  and  a  right 
acquired  to  all  those  gracious  privileges, 
through  which,  diligently  used,  the  life 
may  be  preserved  which  is  imparted  in 
baptism.  We  believe  of  these  baptizotl 
children,  that,  had  they  died  ere  old 
enough  to  be  morally  accountable,  they 
woidd  have  been  admitted  into  heaven  : 
and,  therefore,  do  we  also  believe  that 
they  passed,  at  baptism,  from  death  un- 
to life,  so  that,  in  their  case,  baptism  was 
instrumentJil  to  the  recovery  of  the  im- 
mortality forfeited  in  Adam.  But  when 
Christ  liad  thus  wrought  a  miracle, 
wrought  it  through  the  energies  of  the 
Spirit  brooding  on  the  waters,  ho  issued 
the  same  command  as  to  .Tairus,  and  de- 
sired that  meat  should  be  given  to  those 
whom  he  had  quickened.  So  long  as  the 
children  were  too  young  to  take  care  of 
themselves,  this  command  implied  that 
their  parents,  or  guardians,  were  to  be 


diligent  in  instilling  into  their  minds  the 
principles  of  righteousness,  instructing 
them  as  to  the  vows  which  had  been 
made,  and  the  j)rivileges  to  which  they 
had  been  adinitled  at  baptism.  So  soon 
as  the  children  had  reached  riper  years, 
the  command  implied  that  they  should 
use,  with  all  eaiTi«stness,  the  appointed 
means  of  grace,  and  especially  that  they 
should  feed,  through  the  receiving  ano- 
ther sacrament,  on  that  body  and  blood 
which  are  the  sustenance  of  a  lost  world. 
And  we  quite  believe,  that,  wheresoever 
the  command  is  faithfully  obeyed,  the 
life,  communicated  in  baptism,  will  be 
preserved  as  the  infant  advances  to  ma- 
turity. But  unhappily,  in  far  the  major- 
ity of  instances,  the  command  is  alto- 
gether disobeyed.  The  parents  give  the 
child  no  meat  ;  and  the  child,  when  it 
can  act  for  itself,  attends  to  every  thing 
rather  than  the  sustenance  of  the  spiritual 
life.  Even  religious  parents  are  often  to 
blame  in  this  matter  :  for,  not  duly  mind- 
ful of  the  virtues  of  baptism,  they  ad- 
dress their  children,  as  though  they  were 
heathens,  in  place  of  admonishing  them, 
as  members  of  Christ,  to  take  heed  how 
they  let  slip  the  grace  they  have  receiv- 
ed. And  as  to  irreligious  parents,  who 
arc  not  careful  of  their  own  souls,  but  live 
in  neglect  of  those  means  through  which 
is  to  be  maintained  the  membership  with 
Christ  which  baptism  procures — what  can 
we  expect  from  them,  but  that  they  will 
sutler  the  principle  of  life  to  languish  in 
their  children,  so  that  we  shall  have  a 
multitude  with  no  signs  of  moral  anima- 
tion, although  they  have  been  "  born 
again  of  water  and  of  the  Spirit  1"  When, 
therefore,  we  are  told,  that,  notwith- 
standing the  use  of  the  sacrament  of  bap- 
tism, the  great  mass  of  men  have  evi- 
dently underg(me  no  renewal  of  nature  ; 
and  when  it  is  argued  from  this,  that 
there  cannot  necessarily  be  any  regener- 
ation in  baptism;  our  answer  is  simply, 
that  God  works  by  means  as  well  as  mir- 
acle ;  that  means  are  to  sustain  what  mir- 
acle implants  ;  and  that,  therefore,  the 
same  appearance  will  be  finally  present- 
ed, if  means  be  neglected,  as  if  miracle 
were  not  wrought. 

]iut,  to  lecur  our  text :  if  we  have 
rightly  expounded  the  church's  views 
with  reference  to  baptism,  we  may  well 
agree  with  the  ancient  fathers,  who  found 
the  waters  of  baptism  in  those  wa'ers 
which  covered  the  solid  matter  of  this 


THE  SPIRIT  UPON  THE  WATERS. 


357 


earth,  and  ot  which  the  Spirit  of  God 
moved,  or  brooded,  with  vivilyiiijroiieigy. 
You  are  not  told,  that  hy  this  moving  or 
brooding  on  the  waters,  tlie  Spirit  actually 
produced  this  present  globe,  wrought  it  in- 
to the  structure,  and  clothed  it  with  the  or- 
naments,which  fitted  itfortlie  residence  of" 
man.  All  that  seems  to  have  been  done, 
was  the  infusing  such  projierties  into  mat- 
ter, or  the  brinsfiufj  it  into  such  a  c<jndilion, 
that  it  stood  ready  for  the  various  process- 
es of  vegetation  and  life,  but  still  waited 
the  word  of  the  Almighty  ere  the  trees 
sprang  forth  and  animated  tr  bej  moved 
rejoicingly  on  its  surface.  And  what  is 
this  but  a  most  acccurate  representation 
of  what  we  suppose  effected  in  baptism  1 
VVe  have  not  so  described  to  you  the 
virtues  of  this  sacrament,  as  to  lead  you 
to  believe  that  the  child,  on  eraertjino- 
irom  the  waters,  is  so  transformed  into 
the  likeness  of  God  as  to  be  sure  of  a 
place  in  that  city  into  whicli  shall  enter 
nothing  that  defileth.  We  have  only 
maintained,  that,  by  the  operation  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  in  and  through  baptism,  the 
child  is  brought  into  such  a  relation  to 
God,  so  purged  from  the  guilt  of  original 
sin,  so  gathered  within  the  covenant  of 
forgiveness,  so  consigned  to  all  the  bless- 
ings of  adoption,  that  it  may  be  declared 
impregnated  with  the  elements  of 
spiritual  life,  elements  which,  if  not 
wilfully  crushed,  shall  shoot  into  efflor- 
escence and  vigor  beneath  the  crea- 
tive word  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  Thus 
the  parallel  is  j^erfect — there  being  only 
this  difference,  that  inanimate  matter, 
prepared  by  the  Spirit,  was  sure  to  Offer 
no  resistance,  but  to  resolve  itself,  at  di- 
vine bidding,  into  the  appointed  forms  ; 
whereas  the  human  soul,  though  similar- 
ly prepared,  may  withstand  the  quicken- 
ing word,  and  refuse  to  bring  foith  the 
fruits  of  righteousness.  But  this  is  the 
only  difference,  a  difference  which  neces- 
sarily follows  on  that  between  matter  and 
mind.  For  as  the  rude  and  undigested 
chaos,  unapt  for  vegetation,  untraversed 
by  life,  became,  beneath  the  broodings 
of  the  Spirit  on  the  overspread  waters, 
enabled  for  fertility,  and  pregnant  witli 
vitality,  so  that  yet  wilder  and  more  un- 
shaped  thing,  a  fallen  man,  passing 
through  these  mystic  wateis  on  which  the 
Holy  Ghost  moves,  is  made  a  fit  subject 
for  the  renewing  word  of  the  Gospel,  that 
word  which  clothes  with  moral  beauty, 
and  nerves  with  moral  strength.  He  may 


resist  the  word  which  commands  that  the 
earth  bring  forth  the  green  herl),  and  that 
land  and  water  teem  with  proof  that  the 
voice  of  the  Lord  has  been  heard. 
Nevertheless,  he  has  been  put  at  ba])tism 
into  such  a  condition,  there  has  been 
communicated  such  an  aptness  for  heark- 
ening to  the  word,  and  obeying  its  in- 
junctions, that  the  very  gl(»be,  with  its 
fields  and  forests,  and  varied  tenantry, 
shall  witness  against  him  at  the  judgment, 
proving  itself  less  senseless  and  obdurate, 
seeing  that  it  arose  from  its  baptism, 
ready,  at  God's  command,  to  be  enamel- 
led with  verdure  and  crowned  with  ani- 
mation. And,  on  the  other  hand,  when 
we  see  an  individual  growing  up  "in  the 
nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord," 
steadily  acting  out  the  vows,  claiming  the 
privileges,  and  exhibiting  the  benefits  of 
baptism  ;  so  that  life  is,  from  the  first,  a 
progress  towards  spiritual  perfection;  we 
think  it  not  strange  if  he  cannot  tell  us 
the  day  of  liis  conversion,  if  he  can  only 
describe  an  acquaintance  with  God,  and 
a  love  to  his  name,  which  have  been 
deepening  as  long  as  he  can  recollect ; 
we  should  indeed  marvel  that  a  fallen 
creature  could  thus  seem  set  apart,  from 
his  very  infancy,  to  holiness,  as  though 
he  had  been  born  a  child  of  God  and  not 
of  wrath,  if  we  did  not  remember,  that, 
whilst  the  earth  was  yet  "  without  form 
and  void,"  waters  had  suffused  it,  and 
that  on  the  face  of  those  waters  had  mov- 
ed the  Spirit  of  God. 

These  then  are  the  two  great  senses 
in  which,  as  we  think,  our  text  should  be 
understood  ;  the  one  literal,  the  other 
allegorical.  In  ordinary  cases  we  object 
to  the  giving  a  typical  meaning  to  an  his- 
torical statement,  unless  on  the  express 
warrant  of  other  parts  of  Scripture.  But 
though  in  this  case  we  have  no  such  war- 
rant, yet,  forasmuch  as  the  work  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  upon  man  is  described  as 
the  extracting  a  new  creation  from  the 
ruins  of  the  old — the  very  work  attribut- 
ed to  this  agent  in  our  text — we  can 
hardly  think  that  we  deal  fancifully  with 
Scripture,  if,  in  imitation  of  early  writers, 
we  suppose  a  designed  parallel  between 
the  natural  and  spiritual  oj)crations. 
And  though  we  will  not  say  that  what 
we  liave,  in  conclusion,  to  advance,  may 
be  equally  defended  by  just  laws  of  in- 
terpretation, it  is  perliaps  only  such  an 
application  of  the  text  as  may  be  par- 
doned for  the  sake  of  its  practical  worth. 


SbS 


THE  SPIRIT  UrOV  THE  WATERS. 


On  the  waters  of  the  chaos  brooded 
the  Sjiirit,  in  order  that  from  the  undi- 
gested mass  might  spring  a  noble  world. 
On  the  waters  of  baptism  still  broods 
that  same  Spirit,  in  order  that  from  the 
midst  of  a  fallen  race  may  rise  the  church 
of  the  living  God.  But  there  are  other 
waters,  of  which  Scripture  speaks  ;  and 
it  is  most  comforting  to  remember  that 
on  these  too  may  God's  Spirit  rest. 
There  are  the  waters  of  affliction,  waters 
to  which  reference  is  made  in  the  pro- 
mise, "When  thou  passest  through  the 
waters,  I  will  be  with  thee;"  and  to 
which  the  Psalmist  alludes  when  he 
speaks  of  the  deep  waters  as  having 
come  in,  even  unto  his  soul.  And  when 
these  waters  are  poured  upon  the  chris- 
tian, how  often  may  it  be  said  that  the 
earth  is  "without  form  and  void,"  and 
that  darkness  is  "  upon  the  face  of  the 
deep."  All  seems  a  blank :  on  every 
eidc  there  is  gloom.  But  is  not  God's 
Spirit  upon  the  waters  1  Surely,  if  it  be 
true  that  the  believer  in  Christ  comes 
forth  purified  by  affliction,  stronger  in 
the  graces  of  the  Gospel,  and  more  dis- 
posed to  the  yielding  those  fruits  which 
are  to  the  glory  of  God,  it  is  also  true 
that  the  Spirit,  who  is  emphatically  styl- 
ed the  Comforter,  has  moved  upon  the 
waters,  exerting  through  them  a  mys- 
lericjus  influence  on  the  disordered  fa- 
culties ;  so  that  there  hath  at  length 
emerged,  as  from  the  surges  of  the  early 
deep,  a  fairer  creation,  with  more  of  the 
impress  of  Deity  and  the  earnest  of  hea- 
ven. And  if  sorrows  may  be  likened  un- 
to waters,  certainly  death  may,  which 
Cometh  in  as  a  deluge,  and  overwhelms 
the  generations  of  men.  This  is  a  flood 
beneath  which  the  earth  becomes  literal- 
ly "without  form  and  void,"  The  body, 
fashioned  out  of  the  dust,  is  reduced  to 
its  elements  :  all  that  was  comely,  and 
strong,  and  excellent,  departs ;  and  a 
darkness,  fearfully  oppressive,  is  on  "the 
face  of  the  deep."  But  the  Spirit  of  the 
living  God  is  moving  on  the  flood. 
These  our  bodies,  like  the  globe  from 
which  they  have  been  taken,  and  into 
which  they  n)ust  be  resolved,  are  to  pass 
from  an  inferior  to  a  nobler  condition ; 


they  are  to  be  bi'oken  into  a  chaos,  on]y 
that  they  may  bo  reconstructed  in  finer 
symmetry,  and  with  loftier  powers.  And 
when  I  find  it  declared  that  "he  that 
raised  up  Christ  from  the  dead,  shall  also 
quicken  your  mortal  bodies  by  his  Spirit 
that  dwelleth  in  you" — the  resuirection 
being  thus  attributed  to  the  Spirit — I 
feel  indeed  that  it  may  again  be  said, 
that  the  Spirit  of  God  moves  "  on  the  face 
of  the  waters  ;"  it  moves  as  the  guardian 
and  vivifier  of  every  particle  submerged 
in  the  dark  flood  of  death  ;  and  its  agen- 
cy shall  be  attested  as  magnificently  as 
by  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth  spring- 
ing from  the  wreck  of  the  old,  when  this 
mortal  shall  put  on  immortality,  this  cor- 
ruptible incorruption. 

We  cannot  detain  you  longer,  though 
fresh  illustrations  crowd  upon  the  mind. 
Living  waters,  we  read,  are  to  go  out 
from  Jerusalem,  "till  at  length  the  earth 
shall  be  filled  with  the  knowledge  of  the 
glory  of  the  Lord,  as  the  waters  cover 
the  eea."  The  Spirit  of  God  will  be  on 
these  waters  ;  the  flood  of  evangelical 
truth  would  avail  nothing  unless  accom- 
panied by  this  agent ;  but  forasmuch  as 
the  Gospel  shall  be  preached  "with  the 
Holy  Ghost  sent  down  from  heaven," 
the  desert  will  blossom,  the  waste  places 
rejoice,  and  the  globe  be  transformed  in- 
to one  glorious  sanctuary.  There  is  a 
river,  moreover,  in  the  heavenly  city, 
clear  as  crystal,  proceeding  out  of  the 
throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb."  The 
waters  flow  from  the  throne  of  two  per- 
sons of  the  Trinity  ;  then  on  these  waters 
must  be  the  Third  Person,  who  pro- 
ceedeth  from  the  other  two.  Yea,  even 
in  heaven  may  this  Spirit  act  on  that 
which  hath  been  earthly,  fitting  us  to 
pass  from  one  stage  to  another  of  glory 
and  blessedness,  so  that  futurity,  like  an- 
tiquity, shall  be  full  of  splendid  changes, 
each  being  a  progress  towards  Deity, 
though  Deity  will  ever  remain  unap- 
proachable. God  grant — this  is  all  we 
can  say  in  conclusion — that  none  of  us 
may  "quench  the  Spirit;"  oh,  though 
he  can  sit  majcstical  on  the  flood  of 
death,  he  inay  be  actually  quenchaJ  by 
the  flood  of  unbelief. 


SERMON    IX. 


THE  PROPORTION  OF  GRACE  TO  TRIAL. 


"  And  as  thy  days  so  shall  thy  strength  be." — Deutebonomy  xxxiii.  25. 


It  is  of  great  imporlancc,  that,  in  con- 
eldering  the  present  condition  of  our  race, 
we  neither  exaggerate,  nor  extenuate, 
the  consequences  of  the  original  aposta- 
cy.  We  believe  it  possible  to  do  the  one 
as  well  as  the  other ;  for  though  it  may 
not  be  easy  to  overstate  the  degree  of 
our  alienation  from  God,  or  our  inability 
to  return  unto  him  from  whom  we  have 
revolted,  we  may  speak  as  though  cer- 
tain passions  and  affections  had  been  en- 
gendered in  us  since  the  fall,  having  had 
nothing  correspondent  in  man  as  first 
formed.  And  this,  we  believe,  would  be 
a  great  mistake  ;  for  we  do  not  see  how 
any  part  of  our  mental  constitution  can 
have  been  added,  or  produced,  since  we 
turned  aside  from  God  :  we  may  have 
prostituted  this  or  that  affection,  and  per- 
verted this  or  that  power;  but  assuredly 
the  affection  and  the  power,  under  a  bet- 
ter aspect  and  with  a  holier  aim,  must 
have  belonged  to  our  nature  before  as 
well  as  since  the  transgression  of  Adam. 
We  are  not  to  think  that  an  entirely  new 
set  of  energies  and  passions  was  com- 
municated to  man,  when  he  had  fallen 
from  innocence  ;  for  this  would  be  to  re- 
present God  as  interfering  to  implant  in 
us  sinful  propensities.  When  a  man  is 
converted,  and  therefore  regains,  in  a 
degree,  the  lost  image  of  his  Maker,  there 
are  not  given  him  powers  and  affections 
which  he  possessed  not  before ;  all  that 
is  effected  is  the  removal  of  an  evil  bias, 
or  the  proposing  of  a  new  object ;  the 
faculties  are  what  they  were,  except  that 
they  are  no  longer  warped,  and  no  longer 
wasted  on  perishable  things.  And  if 
that  renewal  of  human  nature,  which  is 
designated  as  actually  a  fresh  creation, 
consist  rather  in  its  purification  and  ele- 
vation, than  in  its  endowment  with  new 


qualities,  wo  may  conclude,  that,  in  its 
fall,  there  was  the  debasement  rather  than 
the  destruction  of  its  properties,  the  cor- 
ruption of  what  it  had  rather  than  the 
acquisition  of  what  it  had  not. 

It  is,  we  think,  a  very  interesting  thing 
to  observe  men's  present  dispositions  and 
tendencies,  and  to  consider  what  they 
would  have  been  had  man  continued  in 
uprightness.  The  distorted  feature,  and 
the  degraded  power,  should  not  merely 
be  mourned  over  and  reproached  :  they 
should  be  used  as  elements  from  which 
we  may  determine  what  our  race  was, 
ere  it  rebelled  against  God.  When,  for 
example,  we  behold  men  eagerly  bent 
on  the  amassing  of  wealth,  giving  all 
their  energy  and  time  to  the  accumulation 
of  riches  which  they  can  never  need  and 
never  enjoy,  we  consider  that  we  are 
not  looking  merely  on  a  melancholy 
spectacle,  that  of  creatures  squandering 
their  lives  on  what  deserves  not  their 
strivings.  There  is  indeed  the  exhibition 
of  misused  powers  ;  but  the  exhibition 
is,  at  the  same  time,  a  striking  evidence 
of  what  man  originally  was,  and  for  what 
he  was  designed.  The  jiassion  for  ac- 
cumulation, for  making  provision  for  the 
unknown  future,  is  among  the  strongest 
indications  that  the  soul  feels  herself  im- 
mortal, and  urges  to  the  laying  up  for 
yet  distant  times.  What  would  the  man, 
who  is  laboring  night  and  day  for  cor- 
ruptible possessions,  have  been,  had  he  re- 
mained what  he  was  as  originally  created? 
He  would  have  been  an  eager  candidate 
for  those  treasures  which  are  enduring  ; 
and  all  that  concentration  of  powers  on 
a  perishable  good,  which  now  excites 
our  sorrow,  would  have  been  the  undi- 
vided employment  of  every  energy  on 
the  acquisition  of  everlasting  blessedness. 


3G0 


THE  PROPORTION  OF  GRACE  TO  TRIAL. 


it  is  not  a  pew  desire,  a  desire  wliich 
Bubsisted  not  under  any  form  in  tlie  untUl- 
len  man,  that  whicli  now  actuates  the 
great  mass  of  our  I'ace,  who  toil  and  strive 
only  to  be  ricli.  It  is  the  very  desire 
which,  we  may  believe,  was  uppermost 
in  our  first  father,  when  the  imasre  of  Uod 
was  in  its  freshness,  and  evil  had  not  en- 
tered paradise.  The  desire  has  been 
turned  towards  the  base  and  corruptible  ; 
there  has  been  a  change,  a  fatal  change  in 
its  object ;  but,  nevertheless,  the  desire 
itself  belonged  to  our  nature  in  its  glori- 
ous estate,  God  its  author,  and  immor- 
tality its  aim.  So  that,  from  the  specta- 
cle of  crowded  marts  and  busy  exchanges, 
where  numbers  manifestly  devote  them- 
selves, body  and  soul,  to  the  amassing  of 
money,  we  can  pass  in  thought  to  the 
spectacle  of  a  world  inhabited  only  by 
unfallen  men,  creatures  who,  like  Adam 
as  originally  formed,  present  the  linea- 
ments of  the  Lord  God  himself.  The 
one  spectacle  suggests  the  other  ;  I  learn 
what  man  was,  from  observing  what  he 
is. 

And  it  is  not  merely  that,  viewing  the 
matter  generally,  we  can  see  that  the 
passion  for  accumulating  wealth  is  an  ori- 
ginal affection  of  our  nature,  implanted 
for  noble  ends.  If  you  examine  with  a 
little  more  attention,  you  will  be  struck 
with  the  testimony  which  there  is  in  this 
passion  to  the  exigencies  and  destinies 
of  man.  If  you  were  to  speak  with  a 
great  capitalist,  one  who  lias  already 
realized  large  wealth,  but  who  is  as  in- 
dustrious in  adding  to  his  stores  as  though 
he  were  just  beginning  life,  he  would 
perhaps  hardly  tell  you  that  he  had  any 
very  definite  purpose  in  heaping  up 
riches,  that  there  was  any  great  end  which 
he  hoped  to  attain,  or  any  new  source  of 
happiness  which  he  expected  to  possess. 
He  goes  on  accumulating  because  there 
is  an  unsatisfied  longing,  a  craving  which 
has  not  been  appeased,  a  consciousness, 
which  will  not  suffer  him  to  be  idle,  that 
roan's  business  upon  earth  is  to  make 
provision  for  the  future.  For  our  part, 
we  have  no  share  in  the  feeling  of  won- 
der, which  we  often  hear  expressed,  that 
worldly  men,  as  they  grow  old,  are  even 
more  eager  than  ever  in  adding  to  their 
riches.  The  surprising  thing  to  »is  is, 
when  a  man  who  for  years  has  been  in- 
tent on  accumulating  capital,  can  with- 
draw from  l^is  accustomed  pursuits,  and 
yet  not  be  industrious  in  seeking  treasure 


above.  We  think  it  only  natural,  that 
the  covetous  man  shouhl  be  more  covet- 
ous, as  he  draws  nearer  to  death ;  for 
we  regard  covetousness  as  nothing  less 
than  the  prostituted  desire  of  immortal- 
ity :  it  is  the  passion  of  a  being,  goaded 
by  an  irrepressible  feeling  tliat  he  shall 
have  wants  hereafter,  for  which  it  be- 
hoves him  to  be  provident  now ;  and 
what  marvel,  if  this  feeling  become  more 
and  more  intense,  as  the  time  of  dissolu- 
tion approaches,  and  the  soul  has  mys- 
terious and  painful  forebodings  of  being 
cast,  without  a  shred,  and  without  a  hope, 
on  eternity  1 

But  we  make  these  remarks  on  the 
passion  for  accumlation  as  found  in  un- 
converted men,  because  we  wish  to  ex- 
amine whether  there  be  any  thing  anal- 
ogous in  those  who  have  been  brought 
to  the  providing  for  an  after  state  of  be- 
ing. The  worldly  man,  as  we  have  seen, 
is  not  content  with  a  present  sufficiency, 
or  even  abundance  :  he  is  always  aiming 
at  having  a  large  stock  in  hand,  so  that 
he  may  be  secure,  as  he  thinks,  against 
future  contingencies.  And  when  you 
view  him  as  a  creature  with  misdirected 
energies,  wc  have  shown  you  that  his  ir- 
repressible tendency  to  the  providing  for 
hereafter,  is  among  the  most  beautiful  of 
testimonies  to  his  being  immortal,  and 
placed  upon  earth  to  prepare  for  another 
state.  But  if  we  now  suppose  him  so 
transformed  by  divine  grace,  that  he  is 
enabled  to  set  his  affections  "on  things 
above,"  there  is  a  strong  likelihood  that 
he  will  carry  with  him,  if  we  may  so  ex- 
press it,  the  habit  of  accumulation,  so  that 
he  will  be  in  spiritual  things,  what  he 
has  long  been  in  temporal,  discontented 
with  the  present  supply,  and  desirous  of 
anticipating  the  future.  And,  of  course, 
we  are  not  required  to  limit  this  remark 
to  the  case  of  an  individual  who  has 
been  eager  in  amassing  earthly  wealth. 
We  think  it  a  feature  which  is  charac- 
teristic, without  exception,  of  all  men, 
that  there  is  a  tendency  to  the  providing 
for  the  future.  There  is  hardly  the  mind 
to  be  found,  so  stripped  of  every  vestige 
of  its  origin,  that  it  cares  only  for  to-<lay, 
and  has  no  regard  for  to-morrow.  And 
if  there  be  an  universal  disposition  to  the 
having,  if  possible,  the  supply  of  future 
wants  alieady  in  possession,  we  may  well 
expect,  on  the  jirinciples  already  laid 
down,  that  such  dispf)sition  will  show  it- 
self in  regard  of  spiritual  necessities,  and 


THE  PROPORTION  OP  GRACE  TO  TRIAL. 


361 


not  be    confined   to  such    only   as    are 
temporal. 

It  is  the  consideration  of  the  disposi- 
tion, as  it  may  thus  operate  in  righteous 
individuals,  witli  which  we  now  desire  to 
engage  your  attention.  Our  text  may 
mave  often  recurred  to  you  as  a  beauti- 
jful  promise,  i)ledging  God  to  administer 
'such  supports  to  his  people  as  shall  be 
proportioned  to  their  several  necessities. 
"As  thy  (3ays,  so  shall  thy  strength  be." 
And  it  is  unquestionably  a  most  en- 
couraging declaration,  full  of  godly  com- 
fort, admirably  fitted  to  sustain  us  in  the 
prospect  of  various  trials,  and  abundant- 
ly made  good  in  the  experience  of  the 
righteous.  But  whilst  we  admit  that  it 
is  as  a  promise  that  our  text  is  most  in- 
teresting and  attractive,  we  consider  it 
so  constructed  as  to  convey  important 
lessons,  with  regard  to  that  desire  to 
make  provision  on  which  we  have  been 
speaking.  You  will  observe  that  the 
promise  is  simply,  that  strength  shall  be 
proportioned  to  the  day :  there  is  no 
promise  of  an  overplus,  nor  of  such  store 
in  hand  as  shall  make  us  confident  for  the 
future,  because  we  have  already  full 
provision  for  its  wants.  The  promise  is 
literally  fulfilled,  if,  up  to  the  instant  of 
our  being  placed  in  certain  circumstances, 
we  are  without  the  grace  which  those 
circumstances  may  demand,  provided  on- 
ly that  the  grace  be  imparted  so  soon  as 
the  circumstances  become  actually  our 
own.  Nay,  we  must  go  even  further 
thau  this.  The  text  clearly  implies  that 
we  are  not  to  expect  the  grace  or  assis- 
tance beforehand  :  it  would  not  be  true, 
that  the  sti-ength  was  as  the  day,  if  we 
were  furnished,  before  the  day  of  trial 
came,  with  whatsoever  would  be  needful 
for  passing  well  through  its  troubles. 
All  that  we  have  right  to  infer  from  the 
passage,  is,  that  God  will  deal  out  to  us 
the  supply  of  our  wants  as  fast  as  those 
wants  actually  arise ;  but  that  he  will 
not  give  us  any  thing  which  we  may  lay 
by,  or  hoard  up  for  fresh  emergencies. 
And  thus,  as  we  may  say,  the  text  is 
strongly  condemnatoiy  of  all  bringing  in- 
to religii'M  of  that  passion  for  accumula- 
tion which  is  3o  distinctive  of  human  na- 
ture ;  for  it  requires  us  to  live,  from  mo- 
ment to  moment,  upon  God,  and  forbids 
our  expecting  that  tlie  grace  for  to-mor- 
row will  be  communicated  to-day. 
^~These  however  are  points  which  re- 
quire to  be  stated  more  at  length,  and 


with  greater  clearness.     In  order  there- 
fore to  combine  the  several  lessons  which 
seem  furnished  by  the  expressive  words 
of  our  text,  we  shall  direct  your  atten- 
tion to  two  chief  topics  of  discourse — • 
considering,  in  the  first  place,  the  caution, 
and  in  the  second,  the  comfort,  which  the 
righteous  may  draw   from    the   saying, 
"  As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be." 
Now  there  is  a  wise,  and  there  is  also 
an  unwise,  comparison  of  himself  with 
others,   which  may    be    instituted    by  a 
righteous  individual.     He  may  so  com 
pare  himself  as  to  be  animated  to  imita- 
tion, or  he  may  so  comjjare  himself  as 
to  be  disheartened  by  a  sense  of  infe- 
riority.    And   in  the  latter  comparison, 
whose  result  proves  that  it  ought  not  to 
have  been  made,  there  is  commonly  no 
due  regard  to  a  difference    in    circum- 
stances.    If,  for  example,  we  take  into 
our  hands  the   annals    of  martyrs,  and 
read  the  story  of  the  undaimted  heroism 
with  which  confessors,  in  days  of  fierce 
persecution,  have  braved  the   loss  of  all 
that  is  valuable,  and  the  endurance  of  all 
that  is  tremendous,  we  can  perhaps  hard 
ly  repress  a  painful  feeling  of  inferiority ; 
and  we  close  the  book  with  a  tacit  but 
reproachful    confession,    that   we    seem 
void  of  the  faith  which  could  perform 
the    like    wonders.     And    we    have   no 
wish  to  say  that  there  may  not  be  great 
cause,  when  we  ponder  what  the  saints 
of  other  days  have  suffered  and  done, 
for  acknowledging    that   we    come    far 
short  of  their  zeal  for  the  truth,  and  their 
love  of  the  Savior.     It  is  more  than  pos- 
sible that  Christianity  in  the  present  day 
is  feebler  in  power,  and  fainter  in  lustre, 
than  in  earlier  times,  when  it  was  to  be 
professed  with  danger,  and  maintained 
with  blood.     But  what  we  now  contend 
for,  is,  that  we  have  no  right  to  consider 
the  piety  of  our  own  times  inferior  to 
that  of  former,  just  because    we    may 
doubt    whether    the    christians    of    this 
generation  have  the  courage  and  forti- 
tude of  martyrs  of  old.     It  is  exceeding- 
^v    j^jrobable    that   there    are    very    few 
christians,  who  can  declare,  after  lionest- 
ly  and  fearlessly  examining  themselves, 
tliat  they  feel  so  nerved  to  bear  all  things 
fin-  Christ,  that  they  could  go  joyfully 
to  the  stake,  and  sing  his  praises  in  the 
midst  of  the  flames.      Let  men  read  the 
history  of  a  Ridley,  or  a  Hooper ;  and 
then  let  them  inquire,  if  we  were  now 
placed  in  like  ciicumstances,  could  we 
46 


362 


THE  PROPORTION  OP  GRACE  TO  TRIAL. 


display  the  like  constancy  ?  and  perhaps 
from  the  one  end  of  this  christian  land 
to  another,  you  would  scarce  find  any 
to  answer  in  the  affirmative.  And  this, 
n'e  wish  you  carefully  to  observe,  would 
not  arise  from  mere  humility,  from  any 
actual  underrating  of  their  strength  and 
devotedness.  The  answer  would  be  tiie 
answer  of  perfect  truth,  the  answer  dic- 
tated by  a  most  accurate  comparison  of 
the  supposed  trial  with  the  possessed  i 
power.  We  are  quite  prepared  for  any 
the  most  cogent  proof,  that  christians  of 
the  present  day  are  not  actually  in  pos- 
session of  the  courage  and  determi-na- 
tion  of  martyrs  and  confessors  ;  and  that 
if,  on  a  sudden,  without  their  receiving 
fresh  communications  of  grace,  they 
were  brought  before  rulers,  and  required 
to  maintain  tlieir  profession  with  their 
lives,  the  likelihood  is  that  there  would 
be  grievous  apostacy,  even  where  we 
have  no  reason  now  to  doubt  the  sin- 
cerity. 

But  we  do  not  consider  this  as  prov- 
ing any  thing  against  the  genuineness 
or  worth  of  the  existing  Christianity. 
We  consider  it  no  evidence  that  religion 
has  deteriorated,  that  the  christians  of 
our  own  day  stand  not  ready  for  the 
stake  which  their  forefathers  braved. 
The  stake  and  the  scaffold  are  not  the 
appointments  of  the  times  :  it  is  not 
God's  will  that  the  believers  of  this 
generation  should  be  exposed  to  the 
same  trials  as  martyrs  and  confessors. 
And  we  reckon  it  a  great  j^rinciple  in 
the  dealings  of  God  with  his  church,  a 
principle  clearly  laid  down  in  the  words 
of  our  text,  that  the  grace  imparted  is 
rigidly  proportioned  to  the  emergence  : 
so  that,  as  it  is  never  less,  it  is  never 
more,  than  suffices  for  the  appointed 
tribulation.  There  was  bestowed  upon 
martyrs  the  strength  needful  for  the  un- 
dei-going  martyrdom,  because  it  was 
martyrdom  which  God  summoned  them 
to  encounter.  That  strength  is  not  be- 
stowed upon  us,  because  it  is  not  mar- 
tyrdom which  God  hath  called  us  to  fa''o. 
In  both  cases  the  same  principle  is  acted 
on,  "As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength 
be."  And  this  principle  would  be  ut- 
terly forgotten  and  violated,  if  we,  who 
live  in  times  when  the  fires  of  persecu- 
tion no  longer  blaze,  felt  ourselves 
thoroughly  furnished  for  the  dying  nobly 
for  the  truth.  But  then  we  can  be  con- 
fident that  the  principle  would  be  C(pial- 


ly  preserved,  if  there  were  to  pass  a 
great  change  on  the  times,  and  the  pro- 
fession of  Christianity  once  more  exposed 
men  to  peril  of  death.  We  have  no  fel- 
lowship with  that  feeling  which  we  often 
hear  expressed,  that  so  degenerate  is 
modern  Christianity,  that,  if  thei'e  were 
a  return  of  persecution,  there  would  be 
no  revival  of  the  fine  heroism  which  for- 
mer days  displayed.  We  believe  indeed 
that  there  is  a  vast  deal  of  nominal 
Christianity,  of  mere  outward  profession, 
with  which  the  heart  has  no  concern. 
This  will  necessarily  be  the  case  un- 
der the  present  dispensation,  whenever 
Christianity  is  the  national  religion,  adopt- 
ed by  a  country  as  the  only  true  faith. 
And  it  is  hardly  to  be  questioned  that  a 
great  part  of  this  nominal  Christianity 
would  altogether  disappear  if  the  sup- 
posed change  were  brought  about.  What 
men  have  not  received  into  their  hearts, 
they  cannot  be  expected  to  defend  with 
their  lives.  But  we  speak  now  of  vital 
Christianity,  of  that  Christianity  which  is 
allowed  to  be  genuine,  but  presumed  to 
be  weak.  It  is  of  this  Christianity  that 
the  melancholy  suspicion  is  entertained, 
that  it  would  not  stand  an  onset  of  per- 
secution, but  would  prove  itself  a  recre- 
ant ifsummoned  to  the  trials  of  confessors 
of  old.  And  it  is  this  susjiicion  which 
we  consider  wholly  unwarranted,  and  in 
the  entertainment  of  which  we  have  no 
share  whatsoever.  We  regard  the  sus 
picion  as  involving  an  utter  forgctfulness 
of  the  principle  announced  in  our  text, 
and  as  proceeding  on  the  supposition  that 
God  might  be  expected  to  allow  such  an 
accumulation  of  grace  as  would  cause  us 
to  have  in  hand  full  provision  for  the  fu- 
ture. But  with  the  words  which  we  are 
considering  kept  steadily  in  mind,  we 
could  look  forward  to  a  return  of  perse- 
cution, with  a  confident  expectation  of  a 
return  of  the  spirit  of  the  martyrs.  Bo 
it  so,  that  the  best  christians  of  the  day 
seem  unprepared  for  the  surrender  of 
'~i02)erty,  the  submission  to  captivity,  or 
the  sacrifice  of  life.  They  nevertheless 
have  in  them  the  same  faith,  the  same  in 
nature,  if  not  in  degree,  as  wac  possessed 
by  those  noble  ones  of  oid,  who  "wit- 
nessed a  good  confession,"  and  whose 
names  shed  undying  lustre  on  the  annals 
of  our  religion. 

And,  having  the  same  faith,  we  can  bo 
sure  that  they  would  be  strengthened 
for  the  meeting  all  such  trials  as  God,  in 


THE  PROPORTION  OP  GRACE  TO  TRIAL. 


363 


his  providence,  might  be  pleased  to  ap 
point.  It  is  not  that  zeal  is  extinguish- 
ed, that  love  has  departed,  that  courage 
has  ])erished.  It  is  not  that  our  valleys 
and  cities  are  indeed  haunted  by  the 
memory  of  such  as  counted  all  things 
"  loss  for  Christ,"  but  could  not  again 
send  forth  defenders  of  the  truth.  On 
many  amountain-side  would  the  servants 
of  the  living  God  again  congregate,  if  the 
fiends  of  pei'secution  were  once  more  let 
ioose.  Scenes,  consecrated  by  the  re- 
membrance of  what  was  done  in  them 
of  old,  would  be  again  hallowed  by  the 
constancy  of  the  veteran  and  the  strip- 
ling, and  by  the  fine  exhibition  of  torture 
despised,  and  death  defied,  that  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Gospel  might  be  upheld  in 
their  purity.  We  should  again  have  the 
merchant,  willing  to  be  stripped  of  his 
every  possession,  and  turned  a  beggar 
on  the  world,  rather  than  abjui'e  one  tit- 
tle of  the  faith.  We  should  again  have 
the  tender  and  the  weak,  the  woman  and 
the  child,  who  now  shrink  from  the  least 
pain,  and  are  daunted  by  the  least  dan- 
ger, confronting  the  fierce  and  the  pow- 
erful, and  refusing  to  deny  Christ,  though 
to  save  themselves  from  agony.  We 
should  again  have  the  dungeons  filled 
with  unflinching  men,  proof  equally 
against  threat  and  persuasion  ;  and  who, 
counting  religion  the  dearest  thinsf  of  all, 
would  neither  be  bribed  from  it  by  an 
empire,  nor  scared  from  it  by  death. 
And  we  venture  on  this  prophecy,  not 
fi-om  any  confidence  in  the  natural  re- 
sources of  those  who  seem  unprepared 
to  do  and  dare  nobly  for  the  truth.  It  is 
not  that  we  think  they  have  undeveloped 
power,  which  would  be  brought  out  by 
exposure  to  trial.  It  is  only  that  we  are 
persuaded  that  God  accurately  propor- 
tions the  strength  to  the  circumstances, 
communicating  his  grace  as  the  difficul- 
ties increase.  And  men  may  look  back, 
with  a  sort  of  despondency,  to  times  when 
righteousness  was  undaunted  by  all  the 
menaces  of  wickedness.  They  may  draw 
a  reproachful  contrast  between  the  Chris- 
tianity which  was  cheerful  in  a  prison 
and  confident  on  a  scaffold,  and  that  of 
modern  days,  which  seems  little  like  it 
in  boldness  and  disinterestedness.  But 
we  see  nothing  in  the  contrast  but  evi- 
dence that  the  supplies  of  grace  are  pro- 
portioned to  the  need,  and  ground  of  as- 
surance that  Christianity  now  would  be 
what  Christianity  was,  were  God  to  take 


off  his  restraints  from  the  enemies  of  his 
church.  Yes,  when  we  hear  it  said  that 
days  of  persecution  may  again  be  per- 
mitted, that  again  may  professing  the 
name  of  Christ  cause  exposure  to  all 
from  which  human  nature  shrinks,  we  are 
far  enough  from  having  before  us  the 
gloomy  spectacle  of  universal  apostacy. 
The  imagery  which  the  statement  brings 
to  our  mind  is  that  of  unblenching  forti- 
tude and  high  daring  and  christian  hero- 
ism :  there  is  the  cruelty  of  savage  and 
bloodthirsty  men,  but  there  is  also  the 
constancy  of  meek  and  single-hearted 
believers  :  there  are  the  emissaries  of 
an  inquisition  hunting  down  the  righ- 
teous, but  there  are  the  righteous  them- 
selves holding  fast  their  profession  :  the 
dead  seem  to  live  again,  the  ancient 
woi'thies  have  their  faithful  representa- 
tives, the  mantle  of  "  the  noble  army  of 
martyrs"  is  resting  on  a  host  of  every 
age  and  every  rank — and  all  because  God 
hath  announced  this  as  his  principle  in 
his  dealing  with  his  people,  "As  thy 
days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be." 

Now  we  have  learned,  from  our  inter- 
course with  christians  when  in  sickness, 
or  under  affliction,  that  it  is  practically  of 
great  importance  to  insist  on  the  truth 
that  no  greater  measure  of  grace  should 
be  expected  than  is  sufficient  for  present 
duties  and  trials.  The  passion  for  ac- 
cumulation, to  which  we  have  so  often 
referred,  is  to  be  traced  in  men  who  are 
busy  for  the  next  world,  as  well  as  in 
those  who  are  busy  only  for  this.  As  he 
who  is  gathering  perishable  wealth  is 
not  content  with  the  supply  of  present 
wants,  but  always  looks  anxiously  to  fu- 
ture, so  the  christian,  though  possessing 
what  is  needed  by  his  actual  condition, 
will  be  thinking  of  what  would  be  ne- 
cessary if  that  condition  were  woi'se. 
And  we  are  certain,  that,  both  in  tem- 
poral and  spiritual  things,  it  is  the  ob- 
ject of  God  to  keep  us  momentarily  de- 
pendent on  himself.  We  allow  that,  in 
temporal  things,  men  seem  able  to  de- 
feat this  intention,  and  to  acquire  some- 
thing that  might  pass  for  independence. 
But  this  is  only  in  appearance  :  it  were 
the  worst  infidelity  which  should  contend 
for  the  reality.  The  man  of  ample  pro- 
perty may  say  with  the  rich  fool  in  the 
parable,  "Soul,  thou  hast  much  goods 
laid  up  for  many  years ;"  but  you  must 
all  be  conscious  that  no  amount  of  wealth 
can  secure  its  possessor  against  want,  if 


3C4 


THE  PROPORTION  OF  GRACE  TO  TRIAL. 


God  snw  fit  to  strip  him  of  his  riches.  It 
is  only  in  appearance  that  the  man  of 
large  capital  is  better  provided  for  to- 
morrow, than  the  beggar  who  knows  not 
whither  to  turn  for  a  morsel  of  bread  : 
you  have  simply  to  atlmit  that  "  the 
earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  the  fulness  there- 
of," and  you  admit  that  the  opulent  in- 
dividual and  the  destitute  are  alike  de- 
pendent upon  God,  that  by  to-morrow 
they  may  have  virtually  changed  places, 
the  opulent  being  in  beggary,  and  the 
destitute  in  abundance. 

But  in  spiritual  things,  the  distribution 
of  which  God  keeps  more  visibly,  though 
not  more  actually,  in  his  own  hands, 
there  is  not  even  the  appearance  of  our 
having  the  power  to  be  independent. 
We  can  have  only  such  measure  of  grace 
as  God  is  pleased  to  bestow  ;  and  it  may 
be  withdrawn  or  continued,  increased  or 
diminished,  entirely  at  his  pleasure  who 
"  holdeth  our  souls  in  life."  But  never- 
theless there  may  be  a  craving  for  a  larg- 
er measure  of  grace  than  suffices  for 
present  duties,  just  as  there  may  be  for 
a  larger  measure  of  wealth  than  suffices 
for  present  wants.  And  if  there  may  be 
this  craving,  there  may  be  also  a  dissatis- 
fied and  uncomfortable  feeling,  if  the 
larger  measure  of  grace  should  not  seem 
bestowed.  Whereas,  if  we  may  use  a 
very  homely  expression,  it  is  not  God's 
method  to  allow  us  a  stock  of  grace,  to 
be  kept  in  reserve  for  occasions  which 
A^m^y  arise., -^  The  petition  in  the  Lord's 
prayer  seems  applicable  to  spiritual  as 
well  as  to  temporal  food,  "  Give  us  day 
by  day  our  daily  bread."  What  we  are 
taught  to  ask  is  what  we  may  hope  to 
receive ;  and  we  are  not  to  ask  to-day 
for  the  bread  for  to-morrow  :  we  are  to 
be  content  with  to-day's  supply,  and  to 
wait  till  to-morrow  before  we  speak  of 
its  wants.  Neither  may  we  think  that 
iT^as  without  a  great  spiritual  meaning 
that  Christ  delivered  the  maxim,  "  Suffi- 
cient unto  the  dny  is  the  evil  thereof,"  and 
grounded  on  it  a  direction  to  his  disci- 
ples, that  they  should  "take  no  thought 
for  the  morrow."  We  do  not  suppose 
that  he  forbade  ])rudcnce  and  fore- 
thought, but  only  undue  anxiety,  with 
respect  to  the  future  and  its  necessities. 
There  are  passages  enough  in  Scripture 
from  which  to  show,  tiiat  it  is  not  the 
part  of  a  christian  to  make  no  provision 
for  after  days,  as  though  his  wnnis  were 
to  be  supplied  without  his  using  means. 


But  we  believe  that  there  are  respects 
in  which  we  ought  to  act  literally  on  the 
saying,  "  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the 
evil  thereof."  We  believe  that  sufficient 
unto  the  day  are  its  trials  and  burdens; 
and  that,  if  a  man  find  himself  enabled 
to  bear  these,  ho  has  no  right  to  complain 
at  not  feeling  able  to  bear  heavier.  Suf- 
ficient unto  the  day  are  its  trials,  because 
the  strength  bestowed  is  accurately  pro- i 
portioned  to  those  trials ;  and  therefore 
we  ought  not  to  harass  ourselves  by 
imagining  our  trials  increased,  and  then 
mournfully  inferring  that  we  should  sink 
beneath  their  weight.  And  yet  this  is  a 
very  common  form  of  the  disquietude  of 
christians.  A  parochial  minister  con-^ 
stantly  meets  with  this  case  in  his  pas-  \ 
toral  visitations.  Men  are  fond  of  sup-  [ 
posing  themselves  placed  in  such  or  such  1 
circumstances  ;  and  because  they  do  not' 
feel  as  though  their  faith  and  fortitude 
were  equal  to  the  circumstances,  they 
draw  unfavorable  conclusions  as  to  their 
spiritual  state.  It  is  thus,  for  example, 
that  they  fetch  material  of  uneasiness  , 
from  the  registered  actions  and  endur- 
ances of  saints  :  they  do  not  feel  as  if 
they  could  brave  martyrdom  ;  and  there- 
fore are  they  confounded  by  the  history 
of  martyrs,  though  it  ought  to  encourage 
them,  as  proving  that  God  will  not  suf- 
fer men  to  be  tempted  "  above  that  they 
are  able." 

And  the  same  occurs  very  frequently 
in  reference  to  death.  There  are  many 
christians  who  are  harassed  by  a  great 
dread  of  death,  a  dread  of  the  mere 
act  of  dying  ;  and  who  may  be  said  to  go 
heavily  half  their  days,  through  fear  of 
the  taking  down  of  their  "  earthly  house 
of  this  tabernacle."  And  we  have  no 
wish,  at  any  time,  to  represent  death  as 
other  than  an  enemy,  nor  its  assault  as 
other  than  necessarily  terrible  to  our  na- 
ture. It  is  vain  to  try  to  make  death  de- 
sirable in  itself;  it  is  a  remnant  of  the 
original  curse ;  a  remnant  for  wh(^s8 
final  removal  there  has  been  made  abun- 
dant provision,  but  which,  whilst  yet  un- 
repealed, must  press  grievously  even  on 
the  best  of  mankind.  Ii:  what  way,  then, 
would  we  strive  to  encourage  those 
christians  who  are  distressed  with  ap- 
prehensions of  death  ]  Simply  by  telling 
them  that  they  do  wrong  in  thinking 
of  the  future,  and  that  it  is  both  their 
duty  and  interest  to  confine  themselves 
to  the    present.     Are   they  enabled    to 


THE  PROPORTION  OP  GRACE  TO  TRIAL. 


365 


Dear  the  trials  of  to-day,  the  trials  whe- 
ther of  sickness  or  sorrow  1  Enough  : 
"  Sufficient  unto  the  clay  is  the  evil  there- 
of;" still  "  wait  upon  the  Lord  ;"  and  if 
to-morrow  bring  heavier  trials,  to-mor- 
row will  bring  greater  strength.  But 
we  feel  unprepared  for  death,  we  shrink 
from  the  thought  of  death.  Be  it  so ; 
to  die  is  not  your  jiresent  business,  to  live 
is  your  present  business.  And  it  is 
strictly  to  your  present  business  that  God 
proportions  your  present  grace.  You 
are  wishing  to  have  already  in  your  pos- 
session the  sti'ength  for  dying;  but  this 
is  virtually  to  wish  that  God  would  allow 
you  to  accumulate,  and  thus  to  be  pro- 
vided beforehand  with  all  that  may  be 
needed  for  trials  to  come.  And  God 
loves  you  too  well  to  give  you  even  this 
image  or  shadow  of  independence.  He 
knows  it  essential  to  your  spiritual  well- 
being  that  you  should  hang  upon  him 
from  moment  to  moment ;  he  knows  al- 
so that  this  you  could  hardly  do,  if  grace 
were  so  supplied  that  you  had  more  in 
hand  than  sufficed  for  to-day.  Be  thank- 
ful that  you  have  now  strength  enough 
for  what  you  are  called  to  do  and  endure  ; 
be  confident  that  you  shall  have  strength 
enough  for  all  that  you  may  hereafter 
be  called  to  do  and  endure.  The  one 
is  a  pledge  of  the  other  ;  that  experience 
verifies  our  text  now,  should  persuade 
you  that  experience  will  verify  it  in  time 
yet  to  come. 

We  wish  that  we  could  prevail  upon 
you  all  thus  to  submit  to  the  present, 
without  being  troubled  as  to  the  future. 
We  are  sure  that  a  great  part  of  the 
anxiety  of  christians  is  anxiety  as  to 
trials  and  duties  which  are  not  allotted 
them,  but  which  possibly  may  be.  They 
imagine,  as  we  before  said,  circum- 
stances, and  are  disquieted  because  those 
circumstances  seem  to  overmatch  their 
strength.  The  mother  will  gaze  on  her 
favorite  child;  and,  in  the  midst  of  hei- 
gladness,  a  shade  of  melancholy  will 
pass  across  her  brow,  at  the  thought  that 
this  child  may  be  taken  from  her  by 
death.  Her  feeling  is,  I  could  not  bear 
to  lose  him ;  it  would  go  far  to  break 
my  heart ;  were  God  to  appoint  me  that 
trial,  it  would  be  too  much  for  my  patience 
and  resignation.  But  what  has  the  mo- 
ther to  do  with  thus  imagining  her  child 
as  snatched  away  from  her  embrace, 
whilst  he  is  before  her  in  all  the  buoy- 
ancy   of  health  1     It   may  be  that  she 


does  not  now  feel  as  though  she  could 
submit  with  meekness  to  his  loss.  But 
his  loss  is  not  what  she  is  now  called  to 
endure  ;  and  she  does  wrong  in  examin- 
ing her  faith  by  its  ability  to  bear  what 
is  only  possible,  and  not  actual.  In  like 
manner,  a  man  feels,  and  is  distiessed 
by  the  feeling,  that  he  could  not  now 
meet  death  with  composure  and  assur- 
ance. What  of  that  1  has  he  reason  to 
believe  himself  on  his  death-bed  '?  if  not, 
he  has  no  right  to  expect  the  death-bed 
strength,  and  therefore  none  to  be  dis- 
turbed at  its  wants.  And,  oh,  it  is  very 
beautiful  to  observe  how  those  who  have 
suffered  their  present  peace  to  be  ruffled 
by  anticipated  trials,  have  found  their 
fears  groundless,  and  have  gone  bravely 
through  the  trouble  from  the  thought  of 
which  they  shrank.  The  blow  has  come 
upcm  the  mother,  and  that  sweet  child 
has  sickened  and  died.  But  the  trial  has 
not  exceeded  the  mother's  strength  :  she 
has  found  herself  so  sustained  that  she 
has  even  been  able  to  "  rejoice  in  tribula- 
tion ;"  and  she  has  laid  in  the  grave,  al- 
most without  a  tear,  and  certainly  with- 
out a  murmur,  the  little  one  whom  she 
had  pillowed  delightfully  on  her  breast. 
And  the  hour  of  departure  has  been  at 
hand  to  that  christian  who  has  been 
harassed  by  a  fear  of  dissolution  ;  but 
where  have  been  the  anticipated  terrors  1 
Has  he  been  the  timid,  stricken,  shud- 
dering thing  which  he  had  pictured  him- 
self when  looking  forward  to  the  last 
scene  1  On  the  contrary  he  has  met  the 
dreaded  enemy  with  perfect  tranquillity ; 
with  the  dying  patriarch  he  has  "gather- 
ed up  his  feet  into  the  bed,"  and  has 
meekly  exclaimed,  "I  have  waited  for 
thy  salvation,  O  Lord."  And  what  are 
we  to  say  to  these  registered  instances, 
instances  whose  fi'equency  might  be  at- 
tested by  every  minister  of  the  Gospel  1 
What  but  that  there  is  a  continual  acting 
on  the  principle  of  our  text,  that  it  is  not 
God's  method  to  provide  us  beforehand 
lor  a  trial,  but  that  it  is  his  method  to  do 
enough  for  his  people  when  the  trial  has 
come  ]  Yes,  if  we  can  indeed  prove  that 
the  burden  which,  at  a  distance,  threaten- 
ed to  crush  us,  has  not  been  too  heavy ; 
j  that  the  waters  which  seemed  likely  to 
overwhelm  us  have  not  been  too  deep — 
if  there  be  abundant  demonstration  that 
what  men  have  felt  unequal  to  when  it 
was  not  their  portion,  they  have  endured 
excellently  when  it  has  fallen  to  their  lot : 


3C6 


THE  PROPORTION'  OF  GRACE  TO  TRIAL. 


sorrows,  whose  name  scared  them,  not 
having  exhausted  their  patience,  and 
pains,  at  whose  mention  they  quivered, 
having  been  borne  with  a  smile,  and  even 
death  itself,  whose  image  had  long  ap- 
palled them,  having  laid  aside  its  terrors 
when  actually  at  hand — will  it  not  be 
confessed  that  CJod  wondrously  makes 
good  the  declaration,  "As  thy  days,  so 
shall  thy  strength  be  I " 

And  this  appeal  to  experience  might 
be  made  by  most  christians,  even  if  they 
had  no  history  but  their  own  from  which 
to  gather  proof.  If  it  were  not  that  we 
receive  blessings  and  deliverances,  and 
then  forget  them,  or  fail  to  treasure  them 
up  as  choice  proofs  of  divine  favor,  it 
could  not  be  that  many  amongst  us,  after 
years  and  years  of  professed  fellowship 
with  God,  would  bo  as  much  dismayed 
by  the  prospect  of  new  trials,  or  as  much 
disheartened  by  the  pressure  of  new 
burdens,  as  though  they  had  known  no- 
thing of  the  supports  and  consolations 
which  the  Almighty  can  afford.  If  there 
were  any  thing  like  a  diligent  remem- 
'  branee  of  our  mercies,  a  counting  up  of 
the  instances  in  which  God  has  been  bet- 
ter to  us  than  our  fears,  in  which  he  has 
interposed  when  we  were  perplexed, 
sustained  us  when  we  were  falling,  com- 
forted us  when  we  were  sorrowful,  it 
would  be  hard  to  say  how  there  could  be 
place  for  anxiety,  whatever  the  clouds 
which  might  be  gathering  I'ound  our  path. 
Let  mercies  be  remembered  as  well  as 
enjoyed,  and  they  must  be  as  lights  in  our 
dark  days,  and  as  shields  in  our  perilous. 
If  I  find  a  believer  in  Christ  cast  down, 
because  exposed  to  some  vehement  temp- 
tation, or  placed  in  circumstances  which 
demand  more  than  common  spiritual 
firmness,  I  would  tell  this  man  that  he 
has  no  right  to  look  thus  gloomily  on  the 
future ;  he  is  bound  to  look  also  on  the 
past;  can  he  remember  no  former  temp- 
tations from  which  he  came  out  a  con- 
queror, no  seasons  of  danger  when  God 
showed  himself  "a  very  present  help  ]" 
and  what  then  has  he  to  do  but  to  "gird 
up  the  •loins  of  his  mind  ]"  despair  may 
be  for  those,  if  such  can  be  found,  for 
whom  nothing  has  been  done  :  but  a  man 
whose  history  is  virtually  a  history  of  de- 
liverances, should  r(!gaid  that  history  as 
equally  a  prophecy  ofdeliverances,  a  pro- 
phecy from  God,  (rod  who  alone  can 
predict  and  is  sure  to  fullil,  that  the 
strength  shall  bo  as  the  dav^^And  wherc- 


I  fore,  moreover,  is  it,  son  or  daughter  of 
sorrow,  that  a  discipline  of  suffering  has 
I  not  strengthened  thee  in  faith  1  We 
I  might  think  that  thou  hadst  never  been 
!  in  the  furnace  of  affliction,  to  see  how 
:  thou  dost  shrink  from  entering  it  again. 
I  And  yet  there  are  those  of  you  who,  like 
the  three  Jewish  youths,  have  come  forth 
unharmed,  seeing  that  one  "  like  unto  the 
Son  of  God"  has  been  with  them  in  the 
midst  of  the  flames.  Take  again  the  case 
of  a  mother  :  if  she  have  lost  a  child,  and 
yet  been  enabled  to  exclaim  when  that 
child  was  carried  forth  to  burial,  "  The 
Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken 
away,  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord," 
what  light  has  she  to  be  dismayed  if  an- 
other child  seem  sickening,  as  though 
about  to  follow  its  brother  or  its  sister  ] 
Why  should  the  mother  recoil  from  the 
new  trial,  as  if  she  felt  that  it  would  cer- 
tainly be  more  than  she  could  bear  l 
Let  her  go  to  the  grave  of  her  dead  child, 
that  she  may  learn  patience  in  tending 
the  couch  of  the  living.  Did  not  God 
comfort  her  in  her  former  affliction  1 
Did  he  not  speak  soothingly  to  her  when 
maternal  anguish  was  strong  1  What 
then  has  she  to  do  with  despondency  ? 
The  form  of  her  buried  child  might  well 
rise  before  her,  and  look  at  her  with  a 
look  never  worn  in  life,  a  look  of  up- 
braiding and  reproach,  if  she  fail  to  re- 
member, as  the  hectic  spot  appears  on 
another  young  cheek,  how  the  Lord  hath 
said,  "As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength 
be."  The  widow  again,  from  whom  God 
hath  removed  the  chief  earthly  prop 
and  guardian,  but  who  was  mercifully 
strengthened,  when  her  husband's  eyes 
closed  in  death,  to  look  calmly  on  het 
boys  and  girls,  and  to  bid  them  not  weep, 
for  that  a  Mighty  One  had  declared  him- 
self "th&  luisband  of  the  widow  and  the 
father  of  the  fatherless,"  what  cause  has 
she  to  be  afterwards  dismayed,  when 
difficulties  thicken,  and  the  providing  for 
her  family  seems  beyond  her  power  and 
even  her  hope  ]  Let  her  travel  back  in 
thoughts  to  the  first  moments  of  her 
widowhood,  let  her  remember  the  gra- 
cious things  that  were  whispered  to  her 
spirit,  when  human  comforters  could 
avail  nothing  against  the  might  of  her 
sorrow  ;  and  will  not  her  own  experience 
rise  as  a  witness  against  her,  if  she  ga- 
ther not  confidence  from  what  is  treasured 
in  memory,  if  sl^  exclaim  not  to  the 
God  who  bound  up  the  wounded  heart, 


THE  PROPORTION  OF  GRACE  TO  TRIAL. 


367 


thou  wilt  again  make  good  thine  own 
word,  "As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength 
be]" 

It  is  in  this  way  that  we  would  have 
you  live  over  again  times  and  scenes  of 
extraordinary  mercy,  that  you  may  be 
nerved  for  extraordinary  trial.  We  of- 
ten hear  it  recommended  that  christians 
,  should  study  the  histories  of  eminent 
/  saints,  in  order  that,  through  observing 
j  the  deliverances  wrought  for  others, 
1  they  may  be  encouraged  to  expect  de- 
Vliverances  for  themselves.  And  the  re- 
commendation is  good.  There  is  no 
more  profitable  reading  than  that  of  the 
lives  of  men  distinguished  by  their  jiicty. 
It  is  likely  to  suggest  to  us  our  own  in- 
feriority, to  animate  us  to  greater  dili- 
gence in  running  the  christian  race,  and, 
by  proving  to  us  how  God's  promises 
have  been  fulfilled,  to  lead  us  to  a  firmer 
reliance  on  his  woi'd.  And  accordingly 
we  have  great  pleasure,  if,  in  visiting  the 
pious  cottager,  we  find  that  in  addition 
to  the  Bible,  which  is  emphatically  the 
poor  man's  library,  he  has  on  his  shelf 
some  pieces  of  christian  biography,  the 
histories  of  certain  of  those  devoted  ser- 
vants of  God  who  were  "  burning  and 
shining"  lights  in  their  generation,  and 
who  bequeathed  their  raemoi-y  as  a  rich 
legacy  to  posterity.  But  thei'e  is  a  book 
which  we  are  yet  more  anxious  that  the 
pious  cottager  should  study,  a  book  which 
j  he  may  possess  and  peruse,  though  he 
have  not  a  single  printed  volume  in  his 
I  dwelling,  nor  scholarship  enough  to  read 
;  it,  even  if  he  had.  And  this  is  the  book 
of  his  own  experience.  This  is  the  book 
^  on  whose  pages  are  inscribed  what  the 
Almighty  God  hath  done  for  himself 
There  is  not  the  converted  man  who  has 
not  such  a  book.  The  title-page  may  be 
said  to  have  been  written  on  the  day  of 
conversion  ;  and  there  is  scare  a  day  after- 
ward which  does  not  add  a  leaf.  And  a 
page  out  of  this  book  is  practically  worth 
<whole  printed  volumes.  It  may  not  be 
steniped  with  so  surprising  a  history  as 
those  volumes  could  furnish  :  but  then  it 
is  the  history  of  the  reader  himself,  and 
therefore  has  a  reality  and  a  convincing- 
ness which  scarce  any  other  can  have. 
The  student  of  the  volume  of  memory 
knows  thoroughly  well  that  there  is  no- 
thing exaggerated,  nothing  fictitious,  in 
,  any  of  its  statements  :  so  that  there  is 
such  an  air  of  truth  thrown  over  the  bi- 
ography, as  can  hardly  adorn  the  narra- 


tive of  a  stranger,  which  is  almost  sure 
to  seem  romantic  in  proportion  as  it  is 
wonderful.  And  besides  this,  you  can 
scarcely  put  yourself  into  the  position  of 
the  stranger :  you  imagine  a  thousand 
circumstances  of  difierence  which  forbid 
your  identifying  your  case  with  his,  and 
inferring  what  God  will  do  for  you  from 
what  he  has  done  for  him.  Hence  there 
is  more  of  encouragement  in  the  least 
blessing  bestowed  on  ourselves,  than  in 
the  greatest  on  a  stranger.  On  every 
account,  therefore,  we  may  safely  say 
that  a  whole  library  of  biographical 
works,  and  those,  too,  relating  exclu- 
sively to  righteous  individuals,  could  not 
so  minister  to  the  assurance  of  a  believer 
as  the  documents  which  his  own  memory 
can  furnish.  These  then  should  often 
engage  his  study,  whether  he  be  the  rich 
or  the  poor.  We  would  have  you  give 
unto  your  mercies  an  imperishable  char- 
acter. We  would  have  you  engrave 
them,  not  upon  the  marble,  and  not  upon 
the  brass,  but  upon  the  tablets  of  your 
own  minds  ;  and  we  would  have  you 
watch  the  sculpture,  that  not  a  solitary 
letter  be  obliterated.  If  Samuel,  when 
the  Israelites  had  won  a  victory  over  the 
Philistines,  set  up  a  commemorative 
stone,  and  called  it  Ebenezer,  saying,, 
"Hitherto  hatli  the  Lord  helped  us,'*' 
where  are  your  monumental  pillars,' 
cai'ved  with  the  story  of  what  God  hathj 
done  for  your  safety  and  comfort  1  Oh,  \ 
by  every  tear  which  God  hath  wiped 
from  your  eyes,  by  every  anxiety  which 
he  has  soothed,  by  every  fear  which  he/ 
has  dispelled,  by  every  want  which  he) 
has  supplied,  by  every  mercy  which  he  i 
has  bestowed,  strengthen  yourselves  for 
all  that  awaits  you  through  the  remain-  [ 
der  of  your  pilgrimage  :  look  onwards, 
if  it  must  be  so,  to  new  trials,  to  increas- , 
ed  perplexities,  yea,  even  to  death  itself:! 
but  look  on  what  is  past  as  well  as  on 
what  is  to  come  ;  and  you  will  be  ena-( 
bled  to  say  of  Him  in  whose  hand  are' 
your  times,  his  future  dealings  will  be, 
what  his  former  have  been,  fulfilments 
of  the  promise,  "As  thy  days,  so  shall 
thy  strength  be." 

Now  up  to  this  point  we  have  been 
professedly  considering  only  the  caution 
which  christians  should  derive  from  our 
text :  but  we  have  been  insensibly  drawn 
into  speaking  of  the  comfort,  to  which 
we  have  proposed  to  devote  the  con- 
cluding part  of  our  discourse.     It  wouM 


S68 


THE  PROPORTION  OF  GRACE  TO  TRIAL. 


not  be  very  easy  to  keep  the  two  quite 
distinct ;  but  you  will  observe  that  we 
have  given  great  prominence  to  the  cau- 
tion, and  that  it  is  one  which,  if  you 
value  your  spiritual  peace,  you  will  do 
well  to  appropriate  to  yourselves.  The 
caution  is,  that  christians  should  never 
try  themselves  by  supposed  circum- 
stances, but  always  by  their  actual  :  if 
they  have  the  grace  i-equisite  for  present 
trials  and  duties,  they  have  all  which 
God  has  covenanted  to  bestow,  and  must 
neither  murmur,  nor  wonder,  if  he  do  not 
bestow  more.  God  is  faithful,  if  he  give 
sufficient  for  to-day  ;  man  is  sinful,  if  un- 
easy because  unprovided  for  to-morrow. 
But  ivhen  we  have  taken  to  ourselves 
the  caution,  how  abundant  is  the  comfort 
which  the  text  should  supply  ;  at  the 
risk  of  repetition,  let  us  dwell  for  a  few 
moments  on  what  a  christian,  in  a  world 
of  wo,  cannot  %veary  of  hearing.  We 
must  necessarily  admit  that  our  present 
condition  is  one  of  exposure  to  difficulty 
and  disaster.  It  is  not  a  mere  poetic  ex- 
pression, it  is  the  sober  assertion  of 
melancholy  fact,  when  Job  exclaims, 
"  Although  affliction  cometh  not  forth  of 
the  dust,  neither  doth  ti'ouble  spring  out 
of  the  ground,  yet  man  is  born  unto 
trouble,  as  the  sparks  fly  upwards."  As 
a  direct  consequence  on  our  being  fallen 
creatures,  much  of  bitterness  is  mixed 
with  our  portion  ;  whilst  moreover  it 
Beems  necessary  for  the  ends  of  moral 
discipline,  that  we  should  have  to  en- 
counter disappointments  and  sorrows. 
But  then  it  is  a  just  expectation,  that 
Christianity,  the  system  devised  by  God 
for  the  repair  of  the  injuries  wrought  by 
transgression,  will  contain  much  to  miti- 
gate the  griefs  of  human  life.  And  it  is 
hardly  needful  for  us  to  say  how  tho- 
roughly this  expectation  is  fulfilled. 
Christianity  does  not  indeed  offer  exemp- 
tion from  trouble,  even  to  those  most 
sincere  and  earnest  in  its  profession. 
The  best  christian  must  expect  his  share 
of  such  troubles  as  are  the  lot  of  human- 
ity— nay,  he  may  even  have  a  greater 
than  the  ordinary  portion,  inasmuch  as 
there  are  ends,  in  his  case,  to  be  observed 
by  affliction,  which  exist  not  in  that  of 
one  at  enmity  with  God.  But  it  is  beau- 
tiful to  observe  how  little  there  would  be 
that  could  be  regarded  as  unliappiness 
amongst  christians,  if  they  made  full  use 
of  the  supports  and  consolations  provided 
by  the  Gospel.     If  a  man  held  only  tho- 


rough faith  in  the  declaration  of  our  text : 
if  he  would  apply  that  declaration  to  hia 
own  case,  in  both  its  caution  and  its  com- 
fort, he  could  neither  be  overborne  by 
existing  trouble,  nor  be  dismayed  by 
prospective.  To  those  who  "  wait  \ipon 
the  Lord  "  there  is  always  given  strength 
adequate  to  the  trials  of  to-day,  and  there 
ought  to  be  no  anxiety  as  to  the  trials  of 
to-morrow.  They  have  not  already  in 
hand  the  grace  that  may  be  needed  for 
future  duties  and  dangers ;  but  they 
know  it  to  be  in  better  keeping  than 
their  own,  and  certain  to  be  furnished 
precisely  when  required.  O  the  peac©\ 
which  a  true  christian  might  possess,  if  \ 
he  would  take  God  at  his  word,  and 
trust  him  to  make  good  his  promises.  ' 
It  is  hard  to  say  what  could  then  ruffle 
him,  or  what,  at  least,  could  permanently 
disturb.  Day  by  day  his  duties  might 
be  more  arduous,  his  temptations  strong-  ) 
er,  his  trials  more  severe.  But  he  would  ' 
ascertain  that  the  imparted  strength  grew 
at  the  same  rate,  so  that  he  was  always 
equal  to  the  duties,  victorious  over  the  j 
temptations,  and  sustained  under  the  } 
trials.  As  it  is,  you  will  find,  as  we 
have  already  more  than  once  observed, 
that  the  greatest  part  of  the  uneasiness 
and  unhappiness  which  christians  ex-/ 
perience,  springs  from  the  future  rather] 
than  the  present.  ,  There  will,  of  couts^ 
be  absorbing  rnoments,  in  passing  through 
which  the  soul  will  be  so  engrossed  by 
the  immediate  events,  as  to  have  no 
thought  for  those  which  may  follow. 
But  the  ordinary  disposition  is  towards 
anticipating  whilst  enduring,  so  that  the 
actual  pressure  is  increased  by  the  fears 
and  forebodings  of  things  in  reserve. 
And  it  is  quite  natural  that  such  should 
be  the  case.  That  she  is  always  antici- 
pating, always  stretching  into  the  future, 
is  the  soul's  great  witness  to  herself  of 
her  being  immortal.  It  is  nature's  voice 
strenuously  giving  testimony  to  another 
state  of  being.  But  when  the  principle 
of  faith  has  been  divinely  implanted,  it 
ought  in  certain  cases  and  degrees,  to 
keep  under  this  proneness  to  anticipate. 
It  cannot  repress  the  soarings  of  the 
spirit,  the  mysterious  wanderings,  the 
gazings  at  far-oft'  possibilities  :  and  it 
would  iMit  be  for  our  happiness,  it  would 
only  bo  for  our  degradation,  that  the 
soul's  wings  should  be  confined  and  her 
vision  limited,  so  that  she  could  neither 
travel  nor  look  beyond  the  scenes  of  to- 


THE  PROPORTION  OP  GRACE  TO  TRIAL. 


369 


day.  But  faith  ouglit  so  to  people  all 
the  future  willi  the  presence,  the  guar- 
dianship, the  love,  and  the  iaithfuitiess 
of  God,  that  the  soul  in  her  journeyings 
and  her  searchings,  shuuld  hnd  no  cause 
for  anxiety  and  no  giound  for  fear. 

This  is  the  pn-iiege,  and  this  should 
bo  the  aim  of  the  christian,  not  to  shut 
out  the  future,  as  though  he  dared  not 
look  on  what  it  may  contain  ;  but  to  take 
the  future,  as  well  as  the  present,  as  his 
own  ;  to  feel  that  the  same  God  inhabits 
both,  and  that,  wheresoever  God  is, 
there  must  be  safety  for  his  people. 
But  alas,  through  the  weakness  of  their 
faith,  christians  live  far  below  their 
privilege;  and  hence,  when  they  look 
into  the  future,  it  seems  full  of  boding 
forms  and  threatening  shadows  :  and 
the  survey  only  makes  them  less  resolute 
under  present  troubles,  and  less  alive  to 
present  mercies.  If  this  be  a  just  de- 
scription of  any  amongst  yourselves,  we 
beseech  them  to  give  great  attention  to 
our  text,  and  to  strive  to  base  a  rule  for 
their  practice  on  the  principle  which  it 
announces  as  j^ervading  God's  dealings. 
We  say  to  you  with  respect  to  your 
duties,  "  as  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength 
be."  The  christian,  when  in  health, 
fears  that  he  should  not  bear  sickness  as 
he  ought;  in  sickness  he  fears,  that,  if 
restoi'ed  to  health,  he  should  not  keep 
his  vows  and  resolutions  :  v/hen  not  ex- 
posed to  much  temptation,  he  fears  that 
he  should  fall  if  he  were;  when  appa- 
rently tasked  to  the  utmost,  he  fears 
that  exemption  would  only  generate  sloth. 
But  let  him  be  of  good  cheer :  our  text 
is  a  voice  from  the  unknown  futurity, 
that  should  inspire  him  with  confidence. 
Sickness  may  be  at  hand,  but  so  also  is 
the  strength  for  sickness;  and  thou  shalt 
be  enabled  to  take  thy  sickness  patiently. 
You  may  be  just  recovering  frum  sick- 
ness ;  and  life — for  it  is  often  harder  to 
face  life  than  death  ;  he  who  felt  nerved 
to  die,  may  be  afraid  to  live — life  may 
be  coming  back  upon  you  with  its  long 
array  of  difficulties,  and  toils,  and 
dangers ;  but  be  of  good  cheer,  the 
Author  of  life  is  the  Author  of  grace  ; 
he  who  renews  the  one  will  impart  the 
other,  that  your  days  may  be  spent  in 
his  service.  And  sorrows  may  be  mul- 
tiplied ;  yes,  I  cannot  look  on  this  con- 
gregation, composed  of  young  and  old, 
of  parents  and  children,  of  husbands  and 
wives,  of  brothers  and  sisters,  without 


feeling  that  much  bitterness  is  in  store. 
I  can  see  far  enovigh  into  the  i'ulure,  to 
discern  many  funeral  processions  winding 
from  your  doors:  I  miss  well-known 
faces  from  the  weekly  assembly,  and  the 
mournful  habits  of  otlier  ])arts  of  the 
family  explain  but  too  sadly  the  absence. 
But  be  of  good  cheer:  the  widow  shall 
not  be  desolate,  the  fatherless  shall  not 
be  deserted;  when  the  grave  opens, 
there  shall  be  the  opening  of  fresh 
springs  of  comfort ;  when  the  clouds 
gather,  there  shall  be  the  falling  of  fresh 
dews  of  grace  ;  for  heaven  and  earth 
may  pass  away,  but  no  jot,  and  no  tiltle, 
of  the  promise  can  fail.  "  As  thy  days, 
so  shall  thy  strength  be." 

And  if  you  ask  proof  that  we  are  not 
too  bold  in  our  prophecy,  we  might  ap- 
peal, as  we  have   already  appealed,  to 
the   registered   experience  whether   of 
the  living  or  the  dead.     This  experience 
will  go  yet  further,  and  bear  us  out  in ' 
predicting   peace    in    death   as   well  as 
support   through  life.     I   have   to    pasSi 
through  the  trial  from  which  nature  re-1 
coils  :  the  earthly  house  must  be  taken' 
down,  and  the  soul  struggle  away  from 
the  body,  and  appear  at  the  tribunal  of 
my  Judge.     How  shall   I  feel  at  such  a 
moment  as  this  1     Indeed  I  dare  not  con- 
jecture.    The  living   know  not,  cannot 
know  what  it  is   to  die  ;    we  must  un- 
dergo, before  we  can  imagine,  the  act 
of  dissolution  :  life  is  an  enigma  in  its 
close,  as  in  its  commencement;   we  can- 
rrot  remember  what  it  was  to  enter,  we 
cannot  anticipate  what  it  will  be  to  quit 
this    lower    world.       Yet    if   there    be 
strength  and  collectedness  in  that  fear- 
ful extremity  to  meditate  of  God,  "  myli 
meditation  of  him  shall  be  sweet."     F 
shall  remember  that  G  od  hath  promisedj 
to  "  swallow  up  death  in  victory ;"  an(^ 
that   what    he    hath    promised    he    wilb 
surely  perform.     May  I  not,  therefore,! 
be  glad  in  the  Lord  1     The   things  that 
are  temporal  are  fading  from  the  view  ; 
but  the   things  that  are  eternal  already 
crowd  upon  the  vision.     The  ministering 
spirits  wait  to  conduct  me  ;  the  heavenly 
minstrelsy  sends   me  notes  of  gracious 
invitation ;  one  more  thought  of  God  as 
my  Father  and  Friend,  one  more  prayer 
to  "  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,"  and 
I  am  in  the    presence  of  Him  who  has 
never  failed  in  accomplishing  his  word  i 
to   his  people.     Bear  witness,  yes,  we  1 
must  appeal  to  the  inhabitants  of  hea- 
47 


370 


PLEADING  BEFORE  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


venly  places,  to  glorified  spirits  who 
have  fought  the  last  fight,  and  now 
"  rest  from  their  labors."  We  will  ask 
them  how  they  prevailed  in  the  combat 
with  death ;  how,  weak  and  worn  as 
they  were,  thoy  held  fast  their  confidence 
in  the  hour  of  dissolution,  and  achieved 
a  victory,  and  soared  to  happiness  I 
Listen  fur  their  answer  :  the  ear  of  faith 
may  catch  it,  though  it  be  not  audible  by 
the  organ  of  sense.  We  were  weak  in 
ourselves  ;  we  entered  the  dark  valley, 
to  all  appearance  unprepared  for  wrest- 
ling   with    the     terrors    with   which    it 


seemed  thronged.  But  wonderfully  did 
God  fulfil  his  promises.  He  was  with 
us ;  and  he  ministered  whatever  was 
necessary  to  the  sustaining  our  faith  and 
securing  our  safety.  And  now,  be  ye 
animated  by  our  experience.  If  ye 
would  win  our  crown,  and  share  our 
gladness,  persevere  in  simple  reliance 
upon  Him  who  is  alone  "  able  to  keep 
you  from  falling;"  and  ye  also  shall  find 
that  there  is  no  season  too  full  of 
dreariness  and  difficulty  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  the  words,  "  As  thy  days, 
so  shall  thy  strength  be." 


SERMON    X. 


PLEADING  BEFORE  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


■  Hear  ye,  O  mountains,  the  Lord's  controversy,  and  ye  stronjf  foundations  of  the  earth  :  for  the  Lord  hath  n  ccctro- 
vcrsy  with  his  people,  and  he  will  plead  with  Israel.  O  my  people,  what  have  I  done  unto  thcc?  and  ivhere;a 
have  I  wearied  thee  ?  testify  against  me." — MicAii,  vi.  2,  3, 


Amongst  all  the  pathetic  expostula- 
tions and  remonstrances  which  occur  in 
the  writings  of  the  prophets,  none  ever 
seems  to  us  so  touching  as  this,  which  is 
found  in  the  first  chapter  of  the  book  of 
Isaiah — "  The  ox  knoweth  his  owner, 
and  the  ass  his  master's  crib ;  but  Israel 
doth  not  know,  my  people  doth  not 
consider."  You  will  at  once  understand, 
that,  in  our  estimation,  the  pathos  is 
derived  from  the  reference  made  to 
irrational  creatures,  to  the  ox,  and  the 
ass,  wliich  have  not  been  endowed, 
as  man  hath  been,  with  the  hirrh 
faculty  of  reason.  It  is  an  extraordinary 
proof  of  human  perverseness  and  in- 
gratitude, that  tiierc  should  not  be  as 
much  of  attachment,  and  of  acknovvledf- 
ment  of  ownershij),  manifested  by  men 
towards  God,  as  by  the  beasts  of  the 
field  towards  those  who  show  them 
kindness,   or   supply   them    with   food. 


And  we  feel  that  no  accumulation  of 
severe  epithets,  no  labored  upbraldings, 
no  variety  of  reproaches,  could  have  set 
in  so  affecting  a  light  the  treatment 
which  the  Creator  receives  from  his 
creatures,  as  the  simple  contrast  thus 
drawn  between  man  and  the  brute. 

But  whenever  Scripture — and  the 
cases  are  not  rare — strives  to  move  us 
by  allusions  to  the  inferior  creation, 
there  is  a  force  in  the  passages  which 
should  secure  them  our  special  attention. 
When  Jeremiah  uses  language  very 
similar  to  that  which  we  have  just 
quoted  from  Isaiah — "Yea,  the  stork  in 
the  heaven  knoweth  her  appointed  times ; 
and  the  turtle,  and  the  crane,  and  the 
swallow,  observe  the  time  of  their  com- 
ing; but  my  people  know  not  the 
judgment  of  the  Lord" — he  delivers  a 
sterner  rebuke  than  if  he  had  dealt  out 
a  series    of  vehement   invectives.     To 


'PLEADING  BEFORE  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


371 


what  end  hath  man  been  gifted  with 
superior  faculties,  made  capable  of  ob- 
serving the  dealings  of  his  Maker,  and 
receiving  the  communications  of  his 
•will,  if  the  birds  of  the  air,  guided  only 
by  instinct,  are  to  excel  him  in  noting 
"the  signs  of  the  times,"  and  in  moving 
and  acting  as  those  signs  may  prescribe  I 
And  cuuld  any  severer  censure  be  de- 
livered, when  he  gives  no  heed  to  inti- 
mations and  warnings  from  God,  than  is 
passed  on  him  by  the  swallow  and  the 
crane,  who,  observing  the  changes  of 
season,  know  when  to  migrate  from  one 
climate  to  another  1 

Is  there  not  again  a  very  peculiar 
force  in  this  well-known  address  of 
Solomon  to  the  indolent  man  1  "  Go  to 
the  ant,  thou  sluggard ;  consider  her 
ways,  and  be  wise ;  which  having  no 
guide,  overseer,  or  ruler,  provideth  her 
meat  in  the  summer,  and  gathereth  her 
food  in  the  harvest."  The  sagacious 
king  might  have  given  us  a  long  disser- 
tation on  the  evil  of  slothfulness  and 
the  duty  of  industry;  but  he  could  not 
have  spoken  more  impressively  than  by 
simply  referring  us  to  an  insignificant, 
but  ever  active  insect,  and  leaving  that 
insect  to  put  us  to  shame,  if  disposed 
to  waste  hours  in  idleness.  And  who 
has  not  felt,  whilst  reading  our  Lord's 
discourses  to  his  disciples,  that  never  did 
that  divine  being  speak  more  effectively, 
or  touchingly,  than  when  he  made,  as  it 
were,  the  fowls  of  the  air,  and  the  flowers 
of  the  field,  utter  admonitions,  and  re- 
prove want  of  faith  ?  It  ought  to  assure 
us,  nobler  and  more  important  as  we 
manifestly  are,  of  God's  good  will  to- 
wards us,  and  his  watchful  care  over  us, 
to  observe,  with  how  unwearied  a  bounty 
he  ministers  to  the  winged  things  that 
range  the  broad  firmament,  and  in  how 
glorious  an  attire  he  arrays  those  pro- 
ductions which  are  to  wither  in  an  hour. 
And  could  our  Savior  have  composed  a 
homily  v  hich  should  have  more  keenly 
rebuked  all  mistrust  of  God,  or  more 
persuasively  have  recommended  our 
casting  on  hira  our  cares,  than  this 
his  beautiful  appeal  to  the  birds  and  the 
flowers  1  "  Consider  the  ravens  :  for 
they  neither  sow,  nor  reap,  nor  gather 
into  barns ;  and  God  fcedeth  them. 
Consider  the  lilies,  how  they  grow  ;  they 
toil  not,  they  spin  not ;  yet  I  say  unto 
you  that  Solomon,  in  all  his  glory,  was 
not  arrayed  like  one  of  these." 


In  these  latter  words  Christ  goes  yet 
lower  in  the  scale  of  creation  than  either 
of  the  prophets  whom  we  quoted  as 
reproving  or  teaching  man  through  the 
inferior  creatures.  It  is  yet  more  hu- 
miliating to  be  instructed  by  the  lily  than 
by  the  bird  or  the  insect :  and  man  may 
well  indeed  blush,  if  ignorant  or  un- 
mindful of  ti-uths  which  may  be  learnt 
from  the  grass  beneath  his  feet.  But 
there  are  instances  in  Scripture  of  an 
appeal  to  what  is  below  even  this,  to  the 
inanimate  creation,  as  though  man  might 
be  rebuked  and  taught  by  the  sun  and 
stars,  by  the  rocks  and  the  waters. 
When  Joshua,  knowing  the  time  of  his 
death  to  be  near,  had  gathered  the 
Israelites,  and  caused  them  solemnly  to 
renew  their  covenant  with  God,  he 
"  took  a  great  stone,  and  set  it  up  there 
under  an  oak  that  was  by  the  sanctuary 
of  the  Lord."  And  then  he  proceeded 
to  address  the  congregation  in  these  re- 
markable words  ;  "  Behold,  this  stone 
shall  be  a  witness  unto  us ;  for  it  hath 
heard  all  the  words  of  the  Lord  which 
he  spake  unto  us  :  it  shall  be  therefore  a 
witness  unto  you,  lest  ye  deny  your  God." 
So  boldlv  and  unreservedly  had  the  peo- 
ple avouched  their  determination  of 
serving  the  Lord  and  obeying  his  voice, 
that  the  very  stones  might  be  supposed 
to  have  heard  the  vow,  and  to  be  ready, 
in  the  event  of  that  vow  being  broken, 
to  give  evidence  against  the  treacherous 
multitude.  Could  the  dying  leader  have 
expressed  more  strongly  the  strictness 
of  the  obligation  under  which  the  people 
had  brought  themselves,  and  the  perfidy 
of  which  they  would  be  guilty  in  turning 
aside  to  idolatry,  than  by  thus  gifting 
inanimate  matter  with  the  powers  of 
hearing  and  speech,  and  representing  it 
as  becoming  vocal,  that  it  might  de- 
nounce the  iniquity  of  infringing  the 
covenant  just  solemnly  made  1  The 
stone  is  thus  converted  into  an  over- 
whelming orator;  in  its  stillness  and 
muteness,  it  addresses  us  more  energeti- 
cally and  persuasively  than  the  most 
impassioned  of  speakers. 

Or,  to  take  another  instance,  when  the 
Psalmist  calls  upon  eve,ry  thing,  animate 
and  inanimate,  to  join  in  one  chorus  of 
thanksgiving  to  the  Almighty,  who  does 
not  feel  that  the  summoning  the  sense- 
less and  irrational  is  the  most  powerful 
mode  of  exhorting  those  blessed  with 
life    and    intelligence,  and  of  rebuking 


372 


PLEADING  BEFORE  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


them,  if  they  offer  not  praise  1  "  Praise 
ye  him,  sun  and  moon;  praise  liim,  all 
ye  stars  of  light.  Praise  the  Lord  from 
the  earth,  ye  dragons  and  all  deeps,  fire 
and  hail,  snow  and  vapors,  stormy  wind 
fulfilling  his  word."  Could  any  address 
be  more  stining  1  Could  any  lahored 
exposition  of  the  duty  of  thanksgiving 
be  as  eflective  as  this  call  to  the  heavenly 
bodies,  yea,  even  to  the  fire,  and  the  hail, 
and  the  storm,  to  bring  their  tribute  of 
praise  I  for  who  amongst  God's  rational 
creatures  will  dare  to  be  silent,  if  every 
Btar,  as  it  walks  its  course,  and  every 
breeze,  as  it  sweeps  the  earth,  and  every 
cloud,  as  it  darkens  the  firmament,  may 
be  regaided  as  attesting' the  goodness 
and  publishing  the  glories  of  the  univer- 
sal Lord  1 

We  thus  wish  you  to  perceive,  that, 
in  appealing  to  the  inanimate  creation, 
the  inspired  writers  take  a  most  effective 
mode  <jf  inculcating  great  truths,  and 
conveying  stern  reproofs.  And  never 
should  we  more  feel  that  the  lessons, 
which  they  are  about  to  deliver,  are  of 
extraordinary  moment,  than  when  they 
introduce  them,  as  Isaiah  does  his  pro- 
phecies, with  a  "  Hear,  O  heaven,  and 
give  ear,  O  earth  ;"  never  should  we  be 
more  conscious  that  thoy  are  just  in  ac- 
cusing men  of  wilful  ignorance  and  de- 
termined unbelief,  than  when  they  turn 
to  the  inferior  tribes,  and  cite  them  as 
witnesses  against  rational  beings. 

Now  you  will  readily  perceive  that 
our  text  has  naturally  suggested  these 
remarks  on  the  frequent  references  in 
the  Bible,  whether  to  animate  or  inani- 
mate things,  when  man  is  to  be  exhorted, 
and  especially  when  he  is  to  be  rebuked. 
In  the  preceding  verse,  the  ])rophet 
Micah  had  received  his  commission  in 
these  remarkable  terms — *'  Arise,  cot)- 
teiid  thou  before  the  mountains,  and  let 
the  hills  hear  thy  voice."  Nothing  can 
be  mure  adapted  to  awaken  attention, 
and  prepare  us  for  surprising  disclosures. 
What  lofty,  what  confounding  argument 
is  tliis,  which  must  be  maintained  in  the 
audience  of  the  mountains  and  hills? 
Or,  could  any  thing  more  persuade  us 
of  the  obduracy  of  those  wiih  whom  the 
prophet  had  to  reason,  than  this  appeal 
to  inanimate  matter,  as  though  the  very 
rocks  might  be  as  much  expected  to 
liearken,  as  the  idolatrous  generation  to 
whom  he  was  sent  1  In  the  first  verse 
of  our  text,  the  prophet  literally  obeys 


the  command  thus  received  ;  for  he  ex- 
claims, "  Hear  ye,  O  mountains,  the 
Lord's  controversy,  and  ye  strong 
foundations  of  the  earth  ;  for  the  Lord 
hath  a  controversy  with  his  people,  and 
he  will  plead  with  Israel." 

"  The  Lord  hath  a  controversy  with 
his  people  ;"*  he  is  about  to  enter  into 
debate  with  them,  to  bring  fi)rward  his 
grievances,  and  to  allow  them  to  bring 
forward  theirs,  so  that  the  cause  may 
be  fairly  tiied,  and  a  verdict  given  as 
to  who  has  done  the  wrong.  In  what 
court,  if  we  may  use  the  expression, 
shall  such  a  cause  be  tried  1  When  one 
of  the  contending  parties  is  none  other 
than  the  everlasting  God,  it  should  be 
at  some  stupendous  tribunal  that  the 
pleading  takes  place.  Let  then  the 
mightiest  eminences  of  the  earth  be  the 
walls  within  which  the  controversy  pro- 
ceeds. "Arise,  contend  thou  before  the 
mountains."  It  is  as  though  the  prophet 
had  been  bidden  to  select  some  valley, 
surrounded  on  all  sides  by  hills  which 
lost  themselves  in  the  clouds  ;  that  there, 
as  in  a  magnificent  hall,  worthy  in  some 
degree  of  the  greatness  and  strangeness 
of  the  cause,  the  living  God  and  his 
rebellious  people  might  stand  side  by 
side,  and  implead  one  the  other.  And 
the  mountains  are  to  do  more  than  form 
the  walls  of  the  judicial  chamber.  They 
are  to  be  the  audience,  they  are  to  be 
witnesses  in  this  unparalleled  trial.  So 
certain  was  God  when  thus  bringing  him- 
self into  public  controversy  with  Israel, 
that  ho  should  be  justified  in  his  dealings, 
and  clear  in  his  iudofments;  so  certain, 
moreover,  was  he,  that  no  evidence  would 
convince  those  who  were  set  against 
his  service ;  that  he  summoned  the 
hills  and  strong  foundations  of  the  earth 
to  be  present,  that  he.  might  not  want 
voices  to  pronounce  his  acquittal,  how- 
ever human  tongues  might  Veep  a  guilty 
silence.  There  is  something  singularly 
striking  and  sublime  in  all  this.  My 
brcthien,  give  your  close  attention  to 
the  scene.  We  are  admitted,  as  it  were, 
into  the  court ;  did  ever  trial  go  forward 
in  so  august  a  chamber?  The  walls 
are  the  everlasting  hills,  and  the  roof  is 

*  Tills  portion  of  llie  snbjoct  )jas  been  so 
liir^'cly  li:ni(lltMl  l)y  Saiiiiii  in  liis  sermon  on 
"  God's  controversy  with  leniel,"  lli.if  one  cau 
scarcely  hope  to  say  any  thin;:  vvliicli  lias  not 
been  already  and  better  said  by  that  most  pow- 
erful of  preachers. 


PLEADING  BEFORE  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


373 


the  broad  firmament  with  all  its  fret- 
work of  stars.  And  the  parties  who  are 
come  into  court !  The  Creator  himself, 
amazing  condescension  !  is  one  of  these 
parties  ;  the  other  is  the  whole  Jewish 
nation,  or — for  we  may  fairly  transfer 
the  occurrence  to  our  own  day — the 
whole  christian  world.  Yes,  matters  are 
to  be  brought  to  an  issue  between  God 
and  his  creatures  :  he  knows  that  they 
complain  of  his  government,  and  refuse 
comjiliance  with  his  laws;  and  therefore 
has  he  descended  from  his  throne,  and 
laid  aside  for  the  time  his  rights  and 
prerogatives,  and  placed  himself  at  the 
bar  with  those  who  have  resisted  his 
authority,  that  the  real  state  of  the  case 
may  be  thoroughly  examined,  and  sen- 
tence be  given  according  to  the  evi- 
dence produced. 

Let  then  the  trial  commence  ;  God  is 
to  speak  first ;  and  so  strange  is  it  that  he 
should  thus  enter  into  controversy  with 
man,  that  the  very  hills  and  strong  foun- 
dations of  the  earth  assume  a  listening 
posture.  And  now  what  words  do  you 
expect  to  hear  1  What  can  you  look  for 
from  the  Divine  Speaker,  if  not  for  a 
burst  of  vehement  reproach,  a  fearful 
enumeration  of  foul  ingratitude,  and  base 
rebellion,  and  multiplied  crime  1  When 
you  think  that  God  himself  is  confronted 
with  a  people  for  whom  he  has  done  un- 
speakable things,  and  from  whom  he  has 
received  in  return  only  enmity  and  scorn, 
you  must  expect  him  to  open  his  cause 
with  a  statement  of  sins,  and  a  catalogue 
of  offences,  at  the  hearing  of  which  the 
very  mountains  would  quake.  But  it  is 
not  so.  And  among  all  the  transitions 
which  are  to  be  found  on  the  pages  of 
Scripture,  and  which  furnish  the  most 
touching  exhibitions  of  divine  tenderness 
and  long-suffering,  perhaps  none  is  more 
affecting  than  that  here  presented.  We 
have  been  brought  into  a  most  stupen- 
dous scene :  mountain  has  been  piled 
upon  mountain,  that  a  fit  chamber  might 
be  reared  for  the  most  singular  trial 
which  earth  ever  witnessed.  The  par- 
ties have  come*  into  court ;  and  whilst 
one  is  a  company  of  human  beings  like 
ourselves,  we  have  been  amazed  at  find- 
ing in  the  other  the  ever-living  Creator, 
who  has  consented  to  give  his  people  the 
opportunity  of  pleading  with  iiini  face  to 
face,  and  of  justifying,  if  they  can,  their 
continued  rebellion.  And  now  the  mind 
is  naturally  wrought  up   to  a  high  pitch 


of  excitement ;  we  almost  tremble  as  we 
hearken  for  the  fiist  words  which  llu;  Al- 
mighty is  to  utter;  they  must,  we  feel 
sure,  be  words  of  accusation,  and  wrath, 
and  veng-eance,  words  deep  as  the  thun- 
der and  fiery  as  the  lightning;  when,lo, 
as  though  the  speaker  were  overcome 
with  grief,  as  though  the  sight  of  those 
who  had  injured  him  moved  him  to  sor- 
row, not  to  wrath,  he  breaks  into  the 
pathetic  exclamation,  an  exclamation 
every  letter  of  which  seems  a  tear,  "O 
my  people,  what  have  I  done  unto  thee, 
and  wlierein  have  I  weaiied  thee  1  testi- 
fy against  me." 

We  desire,  brethren,  that  you  should 
avail  yourselves,  on  the  present  occasion, 
of  the  wonderful  permission  thus  accord- 
ed by  God.  Ordinarily  we  are  fearful 
of  allowing  you  to  bring  complaints 
against  your  Maker.  But  ve  know  that 
you  make  them  in  your  hearts  ;  and,  now, 
at  last,  you  have  a  full  opportunity  of 
giving  them  vent ;  you  are  standing  in 
controversy  with  God,  and  God  himself 
gives  you  leave  to  testify  against  him. 
The  question  therefore  now  is,  what 
charges  any  of  you  have  to  bring  against 
God,  against  his  dealings  with  you, 
against  his  goverment,  against  his  laws. 
If  you  ha'-e  any  excuses  to  offer  for  still 
living  in  sin,  for  impenitence,  for  covet- 
ousncss,  for  sensuality,  you  are  free  to 
produce  them;  God  himself  invites  the 
statement,  and  you  need  not  fear  to  speak. 
But,  forasmucla  as  you  are  confronted 
with  God,  you  must  expect  that  whatso- 
ever you  advance  will  be  rigidly  examin- 
ed ;  and  that,  when  you  have  brought 
your  accusation  against  God,  God  will 
bring  his  against  you.  These  prelimi- 
naries of  the  great  trial  having  been  de- 
fined and  adjusted,  we  may  suppose  the 
controversy  to  proceed  :  men  shall  first 
testify  against  God,  and  God  then  shall 
testify  against  men. 

Now  you  will  understand  that  we  are 
here  supposing  men  to  come  forward, 
and  to  attempt  to  justify  what  is  wrong 
in  their  conduct,  by  laying  the  blame,  in 
some  way,  upon  God.  It  is  this  which 
God,  in  our  text,  invites  the  Israelites  to 
do  ;  and  therefore  it  is  this  which,  if  the 
trial  be  regarded  as  taking  place  in  our 
own  day,  we  must  suppose  done  by  the 
existing  generation.  And  if  men  would 
frankly  speak  out,  as  they  are  here  bid- 
den to  do,  they  would  have  to  acknow- 
ledge a  secret  persuasion  that  they  have 


374 


PLEADING  BEFORE  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


beetj  dealt  with  unjustly,  and  that  there 
is  much  to  palliate,  if  not  wholly  to  ex- 
cuse, their  continued  violation  of  the 
known  laws  of  (rod.  They  argue  that 
they  have  inherited,  through  no  fault  of 
their  own,  a  proncncss  to  sin  ;  that  they 
have  been  lx)rn  with  strong  passions  and 
appetites,  and  placed  in  the  midst  of  the 
very  objects  which  their  desires  solicit ; 
and  they  are  disposed  to  ask,  whether  it 
can  be  quite  fair  to  expect  them  to  be 
virtuous  in  spite  of  all  these  disadvan- 
tages, quite  just  to  condemn  them  for 
doing  that  which,  after  all,  they  had 
scarce  the  power  of  avoiding.  Well,  let 
them  urge  their  complaint :  God  is  wil- 
ling to  hear ;  but  let  them,  on  their  part, 
give  heed  to  what  he  will  plead  in  reply. 
The  accusation  is  this — human  nature 
became  corrupt  through  the  transgression 
of  Adam,  a  transgression  in  which  we 
had  certainly  no  personal  share.  As  a 
consequence  on  this,  we  come  into  the 
world  with  coiTupt  propensities,  propen- 
sities moreover  which  there  is  every 
thing  around  us  todevelopeand  strength- 
en ;  and  nevertheless  we  are  to  be  con- 
demned for  obeying  inclinations  which 
we  did  not  implant,  and  gratifying  pas- 
sions which  are  actually  a  part  of  our 
constitution.  If  we  had  not  inherited  a 
tainted  nature,  or  if  we  had  been,  at  least, 
60  circumstanced  that  the  incentives  to 
virtue  might  have  been  stronger  than  the 
temptations  to  vice,  there  would  have 
been  justice  in  the  expecting  us  to  live 
soberly  and  righteously,  and  in  tlio  pun- 
ishing us  if  we  turned  aside  from  a  path 
of  self-denial.  But  assuredly,  when  the 
case  is  precisely  the  reverse,  when  there 
has  been  comn)unicated  to  us  the  very 
strongest  leiidency  to  sin,  and  we  have 
been  placed  amongst  objects  wliich  call 
out  that  tendency,  whilst  the  motives  to 
witlistanding  it  act  at  a  great  comparative 
disadvantage,  it  is  somewhat  hard  that 
we  should  be  required  to  resist  what  is 
natural,  and  condemned  for  obeying  it — 
ay,  and  we  think  tliat  here,  in  the  presence 
of  the  mountains  and  strong  foundations 
of  the  earth,  we  may  venture  to  ])lcad  the 
hardship,  seeing  that  Clod  himself  hath 
said,  "Testify  against  me." 

J^ut  now  the  accusation  must  be  sifted  : 
it  is  a  controversy  wliich  is  being  carried 
on  ;  and  whatever  is  urged,  either  on  the 
one  side  or  on  the  otlier,  lias  to  be  sub- 
jected to  a  rigid  imjuiry.  It  is,  of  course, 
to   be  acknowledged,  that,  as  a  conse- 


quence on  the  apostacy  of  our  forefather, 
we  receive  a  depraved  nature,  prone  to 
sin  and  averse  from  holiness.  It  has  un- 
doubtedly become  natural  to  us  to  diso- 
bey God,  and  unnatural,  or  contiary  to 
nature,  to  obey  him.  And  we  are  placed 
in  a  world  which  j)resents,  in  rich  pro- 
fusion, the  counterpart  objects  to  our 
strongest  desires,  and  which,  soliciting 
us  through  the  avenues  of  our  senses, 
has  great  advantages  over  another  state 
of  being,  which  must  make  its  appeal 
exclusively  to  our  faith.  All  this  must 
be  readily  admitted  :  there  is  no  exagge- 
ration, and  no  misrepresentation.  But  if 
this  may  be  said  on  the  side  of  man,  is 
there  nothing  to  be  said  on  the  side  of 
God  1  Has  God  made  it  absolutely  un- 
lawful that  you  should  gratify  the  desires 
of  your  nature  1  is  it  not  rather  the  im- 
moderate gratification  which  he  denoun- 
ces as  criminal  1  and  is  it  not  actually  a 
law  of  your  constitution,  that  this  im- 
moderate gratification  defeats  itself,  so 
that  your  choicest  pleasures,  taken  in  ex- 
cess, pall  upon  the  appetite,  and  produce 
but  disgust  1  In  all  accusations  which 
you  bring  against  God,  you  assume  that 
he  requires  the  suri'ender  of  whatsoever 
constitutes  the  happiness  of  beings  so 
conditioned  as  yourselves  :  whereas  it  is 
susceptible  of  the  fullest  demonstration, 
that  the  restraints  which  his  laws  put  on 
your  desires,  and  the  bounds  which  they 
set  to  the  indulgence  of  your  wishes,  do 
nothing  but  prevent  these  desires  and 
wishes  from  becoming  your  tyrants,  and 
therefore  your  tormentors.  And  what 
have  you  to  say  against  restrictions, 
which  after  all  all  are  but  safeguards  foi 
yourselves  and  your  fellow-men — re- 
strictions, the  universal  submission  to 
which  would  turn  the  world  into  one 
peaceful  and  flourishing  community,  and 
the  setting  which  at  nought  is  certain  to 
be  followed  by  the  worst  consequences 
to  individuals  and  society  1  It  is  idle  to 
contend  that  God  requires  from  you  a 
moderation  and  self-denial,  which,  con- 
stituted and  circumstanced  as  you  are, 
it  is  unjust  to  expect,  when  he  asks  only 
what  you  cannot  grant  without  being  in- 
calculably benefited  ;  nor  refuse,  without 
being  as  much  injured. 

We  arc  not  here  speaking,  be  it  ob- 
served, of  the  benefit  and  injury  which 
are  distinctly  annexed,  as  reward  and 
penalty,  to  the  several  divine  laws ;  fot 
we  could  hardly  expect  you  to  admit  that 


PLEADING  BEFORE  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


375 


these  bear  directly  on  our  argument. 
We  speak  of  the  benefit  and  injury  which 
follow  in  the  way  of  natural  consequence, 
and  which  therefore  may  be  regarded  as 
resulting  from  the  human  constitution, 
rather  than  from  specific  enactments  of 
the  universal  Ruler.  And  we  may  con- 
fidently assert,  that,  if  there  were  nothing 
to  be  considered  but  the  amount  of  en- 
joyment, that  man  would  consult  best 
for  himself  who  should  impose  such  re- 
straints on  his  desires  as  God's  law  pre- 
Bcribes,  inasmuch  as  he  would  never  then 
become  the  slave  of  those  desires :  un- 
limited indulgence  makes  slavery,  and 
slavery  misery. 

And  though  you  may  further  plead 
the  amazing  power  of  temptation,  and 
the  known  inability  of  man  to  resist  the 
solicitations  of  the  objects  of  sense,  we 
plainly  tell  you  that  herein  you  exagger- 
ate the  strength  of  an  enemy,  only  that 
you  may  apologize  for  defeat.  You 
speak  as  if  God  offered  man  no  assist- 
ance, whereas  the  whole  of  his  revelation 
is  one  proffer  of  such  helps  as  will  sufHce 
to  secure  victory.  It  is  altogether  a 
misrepresentation  to  dwell  on  the  vehe- 
mence of  passions  and  the  energy  of 
solicitations,  as  though  there  were  no- 
thing to  be  said  on  the  other  side; 
whilst  it  is  certain  that  there  has  been 
made  such  provision  on  our  behalf,  that 
he  who  will  seek  the  appointed  aids 
may  make  sure  of  conquest.  Add  to 
this,  for  we  have  higher  ground  on  which 
to  meet  you,  that  God  has  not  required 
you  to  live  righteously,  without  proposing 
an  adequate  motive.  Estimate  at  what 
you  will  the  present  sacrifice — though 
we  are  persuaded,  as  we  have  already 
stated,  that  you  aie  asked  to  surrender 
nothing  which  you  would  be  the  happier 
for  keeping — but  make  what  estimate  you 
choose  of  the  present  sacrifice,  you 
cannot  say  that  God  does  not  ofier  vastly 
more  than  its  compensation,  in  offering 
eternal  life  to  such  as  subjugate  them- 
selves. Take  then  the  matter  under 
every  possible  point  of  view,  and  we 
think  that  you  must  be  cast  in  the  con- 
troversy into  which  you  have  entered 
before  the  mountains  and  the  strong 
foundations  of  the  earth.  You  have 
urged  your  plea  and  now  it  behoves 
you  to  be  silent  whilst  God  shall  urge 
his.  You  have  virtually  contended  that 
God  has  done  something  \injust  by  plac- 
ing you  in   youi  present  condition,  and 


that  he  has  wearied  yon  by  imposing 
on  you  grievous  commands.  But  hear, 
if  we  may  venture  on  so  bold  an  expres- 
sion, hear  his  defence.  He  rises  up  to 
plead  with  you,  and  these  are  his  words. 
I  did  all  which  could  be  done  for 
your  forefather  Adam,  gifting  him  with 
high  powers,  and  subjecting  him  to 
slight  trial.  If  therefore  you  have  in- 
herited a  corrupt  nature,  it  was  not 
through  defect  in  my  arrangements  for 
your  good.  I  did  what  promised  most 
for  your  advantage,  and  what  you  would 
have  thankfully  consented  to,  had  you 
been  present  when  Adam  was  made 
your  representative.  And  though,  when 
you  had  fallen,  I  might  justly  have  left 
you  to  your  misery,  I  determined  and 
effected  your  redemption,  though  it 
could  only  be  achieved  through  the  death 
of  my  well-beloved  Son.  By  and 
through  this  redemption,  I  provided  for 
you  the  means  of  subduing  passions 
however  strong,  and  withstanding  temp- 
tations however  powerful.  And  whilst 
I  made  it  your  duty,  I  made  it  also,  in 
every  sense,  your  interest,  "  to  live 
soberly,  righteously,  and  godly  in  the 
world."  My  commandments  "  are  not 
grievous  :"  "  in  keeping  of  them  there  is 
great  reward."  Nothing  is  forbidden, 
which,  if  permitted,  would  make  you 
happier;  nothing  enjoined  which  could 
be  dispensed  wdth  without  injury.  The 
ways  in  which  I  require  you  to  walk 
are  "ways  of  pleasantness"  and  peace; 
and  they  terminate  in  a  happiness  which 
would  be  incalculably  more  than  a  com- 
pensation, even  if  the  path  lay  through 
unvaried  wretchedness.  Where  then  is 
the  justice  of  your  complaint,  or  rather 
of  your  accusation  1  O  it  is  thus  that 
God  may  expose  the  hollowness  and 
falsehood  of  all  that  reasoning,  by  which 
those  who  love  sin  would  prove  them- 
selves excusable  in  yielding  to  its  power. 
I  hear  him  appeal  to  the  mountains  and 
the  hills,  as  though  these  were  more 
likely  than  the  stony  heart  of  man  to 
answer  him  with  truth.  And  when  he 
has  shown  how  much  he  hath  done  for 
man,  what  provisions  he  has  made  for 
his  resisting  and  overcoming  evil,  what 
present  and  future  recompenses  are  an- 
nexed to  the  keeping  his  commandments, 
I  seem  to  hear  the  mountains  and  the  hills 
giving  forth  their  loud  verdict — yea  the 
forests  which  are  upon  them  how  in  as- 
sent, and  the  rivers  which  flow  from  them 


376 


PLEADING  BEFORE  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


mony,  and  from  summit  to  summit  is 
echoed  tlie  apjiroving  jilaudit,  as  tlie 
Almighty  again  utters  the  challenge, 
"  O  my  people,  what  have  I  done  unto 
thee,  and  wherein  have  I  wearied  thee  1 
testily  against  me." 

And  thus  far  the  accusation  has  only 
been,  that  God  asks  from  man  what, 
under  man's  circumstances,  ought  not 
to  be  expected  :  man  being,  by  nature, 
strongly  inclined  to  sin  ;  and  God's  law 
requiring  him  to  do  violence  to  inclina- 
tions, for  whose  existence  he  is  in  no 
degree  answerable.  But  the  court  is 
not  dissolved,  and  fresh  indictments  may 
be  brought.  Let,  then,  men  approach, 
and  complain  if  they  will,  of  the  dealings 
of  God,  of  the  unequal  distribution  of 
his  gifts,  of  the  prevalence  of  misery, 
and  tho  successfulness  of  wickedness. 
It  is  not  to  be  disputed,  that  numbers 
are  disposed  to  murmur  against  the  dis- 
pensations of  providence,  and  even  to 
derive  from  them  arguments  against  the 
impartiality  of  God's  moral  government, 
or  the  advantageousness  of  adhering  to 
his  service.  They  count  it  surpassingly 
strange  that  so  much  wretchedness 
should  exist  beneath  the  sway  of  a 
Being  as  benevolent  as  powerful  ;  and, 
if  possible,  yet  more  strange,  that  no 
amount  of  piety  should  secure  an  indi- 
vidual against  his  share  in  this  wretched- 
ness ;  nay,  that  in  many  cases,  piety 
should  seem  only  to  make  that  share 
greater.  Well,  there  is  now  nothing  to 
prevent  the  complaint  Irom  being  urged  ; 
God  has  himself  invited  you  to  state 
every  grievance,  so  that  without  incur- 
ring his  displeasure,  you  may  bring  your 
charges  against  his  dealings  with  your- 
selves. We  may  however  suppose  you, 
in  this  instance,  to  limit  the  charge  to 
his  dealings  with  those  who  are  em- 
phatically iiis  people  :  you  will  hardly 
throw  blame  upon  him  for  that  misery 
which  results  purely  from  vice,  and 
•which  W(juld  almost  wholly  disappear 
if  men  .submitted  to  his  laws.  If  you 
put  out  of  the  account  that  unhappiness 
which  is  the  direct  consequence  on 
wickedness,  and  for  which  therefore  it 
would  be  pal])ably  unjust  to  reproach 
God,  you  have  all  the  human  misery 
which  can  excite  wonder,  or  furnish, 
even  in  appearance,  any  groundwork  of 
complaint. 

And  undoubtedly  there  is  thus  left  no 
inconsiderable  sum  :  the  righteous  may 


be  exempt  from  many  afflictions  which 
their  own  sins  bring  upon  the  wicked  ; 
but  nevertheless  their  share  of  trouble 
is  very  large,  and  includes  much  which 
is  peculiar  to  themselves.  It  is  against 
this  that  men  are  disposed  to  make  ex- 
ceptions :  arguing  that  it  can  scaice  be 
equitable  in  God  to  allot  so  much  of 
trouble  and  pain  to  those  who  love  him 
in  sincerity,  and  serve  him  with  diligence. 
They  object  indeed,  as  w^e  have  already 
said,  to  the  whole  course  of  the  divine 
government;  contending  that  there  is 
too  much  of  permitted  evil,  and  too 
little  of  bestowed  good,  to  make  that 
government  worthy  of  God,  But  if  the 
objection  be  of  weight  in  any  case,  it 
must  be  in  that  of  the  righteous  :  so 
that  to  remove  it  in  this  will  be  to  de- 
stroy it  in  every  other.  And  if  it  be  easy 
for  God  to  vindicate  himself  against 
any  charge,  it  is  against  tliat  which  im- 
peaches his  dealings  with  his  people. 
He  has  no  difficulty  in  proving  that  "  he 
doth  not  afflict  willingly,  nor  grieve  the 
children  of  men."  Let  him  enter  into 
controversy  with  you,  and  then  see 
whether  you  will  venture  to  maintain 
your  accusations.  It  is  in  terms  such  as 
these  that  he  maybe  supposed  to  justify 
his  dealings. 

It  is  true  that  those  whom  I  love  I 
chasten,  even  "  as  a  father  the  son  in 
whom  he  delighteth."  But  it  is  because 
I  have  to  deal  with  an  ungrateful  and 
stubborn  nature,  wliich  cannot  be  trained 
by  any  other  discipline  for  the  joys  of 
mine  own  immediate  presence.  If  tho 
hearts  of  my  people  were  not  so  prone 
to  the  attaching  themselves  to  earth,  I 
should  not  use  such  rough  means  of 
loosening  the  bonds:  if  they  were  not 
so  ready  to  fall  into  slumber,  1  should 
not  so  often  speak  to  them  with  a  start- 
ling voice.  I  might  indeed  have  annexed 
temporal  prosperity  to  genuine  religion, 
so  that  whosoever  served  me  in  truth 
should  have  been  thereby  secured  against 
the  chief  forms  of  trouble.  But  wherein 
would  have  been  the  mercifulness  of 
such  an  arrangement  1  Who  knows  not 
that,  even  as  it  is,  life  with  all  its  cares 
is  clung  to  with  extraordinary  tenacity, 
and  that  the  present,  with  all  its  sorrows, 
is  practically  almost  preferred  to  the 
future  '?  Those  who  have  set  their  "  af- 
fections on  things  above,"  can  hardly 
bring  themselves  to  tho  entering  on 
their  possession,  though  urged  by  various 


PLEADING  BEFORE  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


377 


disappointments  antl  disasters  ;  and  they 
who  have  been  the  longest  engaged  in 
preparing  for  death,  and  wlio  seem  to 
have  least  of  what  can  make  cartli  de- 
sirable, show  a  reluctance,  as  the  time  of 
departure  approaches,  which  proves 
them  still  unduly  attached  to  what  they 
must  leave.  What  would  it  be,  if  the 
arrangement  were  altered,  and  piety 
conferred  an  exemption  from  suflering  ? 
There  would  then  be  a  continual  strength- 
ening of  the  ties  which  bind  the  soul  to 
earth  :  the  longer  the  term  of  human 
life,  the  greater  would  be  the  unwil- 
lingness to  depart,  and  the  more  imper- 
fect the  preparation  for  a  higher  state 
of  being.  And  though  it  be  thus  needful 
that  many  should  be  the  troubles  of  the 
righteous,  are  those  troubles  unmiti- 
gated? are  there  no  compensating  cir- 
cumstances which  make  a  father's  chas- 
tisement prove  a  father's  love  1  It  is  in 
the  season  of  deep  sorrow  that  I  com- 
municate the  richest  tokens  of  my  favor. 
Then  it  is,  when  the  spirit  is  subdued 
and  the  heart  disquieted,  that  I  find 
opportunity  of  fulfilling  the  choicest 
promises  registered  in  my  word ;  so 
that  even  mourners  themselves  often 
break  into  the  exclamation,  "  It  is  good 
for  us  that  we  were  afflicted."  If  I 
take  away  earthly  v/ealth,  it  is  that  there 
may  be  more  room  for  heavenly :  if  I 
remove  the  objects  of  ardent  attachment, 
it  is  that  I  may  fill  the  void  with  more 
of  myself.  Thus  with  every  sorrow  there 
is  an  appropriate  consolation ;  every 
loss  makes  way  for  a  gain ;  and  every 
blighted  hope  is  but  parent  to  a  better. 
And  what  is  to  be  said,  men  and 
brethren,  against  the  vindication  which 
God  thus  advances  of  his  dealings?  Is 
the  complaint  substantiated  which  you 
ventured  to  produce  in  that  magnificent 
chamber  which  he  reared  for  his  con- 
troversy with  his  people  1  Let  the  very 
mountains  judge,  let  the  strong  foun- 
dations of  the  earth  give  a  verdict.  "  O 
my  people,  what  have  I  done  unto  thee, 
and  wherein  have  I  wearied  thee  1  I  have 
suffered  trouble  to  come  upon  you,  but 
only  as  an  instrument  for  good  ;  and 
never  have  I  left  you  to  bear  it  alone, 
but  have  always  been  at  hand  to  comfort 
and  uphold.  I  have  suffered  death  to 
enter  your  households,  but  only  that 
you  might  be  trained  for  immortality; 
and  there  has  not  been  a  tear  which 
you  have  been   forced  to  shed,  which  I 


have  not  been  ready  to  wipe  from  the 
eye.  I  have  suffered  schemes  to  be 
disappointed,  expectations  to  be  baffled, 
friends  to  prove  treacherous  ;  but  only 
that  you  might  more  prize  and  strive 
after  the  "  better  and  enduring  sub- 
stance;"  and  never  have  I  thus  brought 
you  into  the  wilderness,  without  going 
before  you  in  the  pillar  of  fire  and  cloud. 
Do  ye  then  arraign  my  dealings  1  do  ye 
accuse  them  of  severity  1  The  inanimate 
creation  shall  utter  my  vindication.  The 
solid  rocks  which  have  beforetime  been 
rent  at  my  voice ;  the  lofty  eminences 
which  have  bowed  and  done  homage  at 
my  presence;  the  trees  which  have 
waved  exultingly,  and  the  floods  which 
have  lifted  up  their  waters,  at  fresh 
manifestations  of  my  greatness — to  these 
I  appeal ;  let  these  decide  in  this 
strangest  of  controversies.  And  so  evi- 
dent is  it,  bi-ethren,  that  God  chastens 
for  your  good,  and  afflicts  only  to  bless, 
that  we  seem  to  hear  the  sound  as  of  an 
earthquake  in  reply  to  this  appeal,  the 
sound  as  of  rocking  forests,  the  sound  as 
of  rushing  waters  ;  and  all  gathered  into 
one  emphatic  decision  that  your  Creator 
is  clear  in  this  matter,  and  that,  therefore, 
it  must  be  on  some  fresh  charge,  if  you 
would  so  testify  against  him  as  to  prove 
that  you  have  ground  of  complaint. 

But  we  must  change  the  scene.  Hav- 
ing allowed  you  to  produce  your  accusa- 
tions against  the  laws  and  dealings  of 
God,  it  is  time  that  we  suppose  God 
the  accuser,  and  put  you  on  your 
defence.  We  stated,  in  an  earlier  part 
of  our  discourse,  that,  since  there  was 
to  be  a  controversy,  both  parties  must 
be  heard;  that  each  must  produce  his 
cause,  and  plead  his  matter  of  complaint. 
The  court  has  been  hitherto  occupied 
with  your  alleged  grievances,  but  you 
have  failed  to  make  good  any  charge 
against  God.  But  you  now  appear  in 
an  opposite  character:  God  has  accusa- 
tions to  prefer  against  you;  prepare  then 
yourselves,  and  meditate  your  answer. 
Ah,  my  brethren,  however  bold  you 
were  before,  when  you  were  permitted, 
yea,  bidden  to  testify  against  God,  you 
seem  ready  to  shrink  away  and  hide 
yourselves,  now  that  God  is  about  to 
testify  against  you.  These  mighty  rocks, 
these  towei-ing  hills,  by  whicii  you  are 
encircled,  you  would  fain  call  ujion  them 
to  cover  you,  that  you  might  be  hidden 
from  one  who  can  bring  against  you.  as 


378 


PLEADING  BEFORE  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


you  too  well  know,  such  overwhelming 
charges.  But  this  cannot  be.  God  con- 
descended to  listen  to  your  accusations, 
and  you  must  slay,  at  whatever  cost,  and 
abide  his. 

With  what  words  shall  the  Almighty 
commence  his  indictment,  if  not  with 
those  which  were  the  first  which  he 
charged  Isaiah  to  utter]  "  Hear,  O  hea- 
vens, and  give  ear,  O  earth ;  for  the 
Loi'd  hath  spoken,  I  have  nourished  and 
brought  up  children,  and  they  have  re- 
belled against  me."  There  is  not  one 
of  you  on  whom  he  has  not  bestowed 
countless  -  mercies  :  he  has  been  about 
the  path,  and  about  the  bed,  of  each  : 
and  had  it  not  been  for  the  watchfulness 
of  his  providence,  and  the  tenderness  of 
his  love,  there  is  not  one  of  you  who 
would  not  have  been  long  ago  crushed 
by  calamities,  and  stripped  of  all  the 
elements  of  happiness.  But  you  have 
been  guarded  and  sustained  from  infancy 
upwards ;  you  have  'been  fed  by  his 
bounty,  warmed  by  his  sun,  shielded  by 
his  power;  and  thus  has  he  been  to 
each  of  you  as  a  father, — a  father  in 
comparison  of  whom  the  kindest  earthly 
parent  might  be  counted  a  stranger. 
And  what  he  has  done  for  you  in  tem- 
poral respects  may  almost  be  forgotten, 
when  you  come  to  consider  what  he  has 
done  for  you  in  spiritual.  There  is  not 
one  amongst  you  for  whom  he  did 
not  give  up  his  only  and  well-beloved 
Son  to  ignominy  and  death :  not  one  on 
whom  he  has  not  wrought  by  his  pre- 
venting grace  :  not  one  to  whom  he  has 
not  sent  the  tidings  of  redemption  :  not 
one  to  whom  he  has  not  otfered  immea- 
surable happiness  in  his  own  glorious 
kingdom.  And  what  has  he  received 
in  return  for  all  this  1  However  per- 
suaded and  thankful  we  may  be,  that 
there  are  those  in  this  assembly  who 
have  been  softened  and  subdued  by  what 
God  hath  done  on  their  behalf,  and  who 
have  cordially  devoted  themselves  to 
his  service,  we  dare  not  doubt  that 
numbers,  perhaps  the  majority,  pei'haps 
the  great  majority,  are  still  at  enmity 
with  the  Being  who  has  striven  by 
every  means  to  rec(mcile  them  to  him- 
self. There  are  the  young,  who  are 
refusing  to  remember  their  Creator  in 
the  days  of  their  youth.  There  are  the 
old,  who  think  that  repentance  may  be 
safely  deferred,  whilst  they  enjoy  a  little 
more  pleasure,  or  accumulate  a  little  more 


wealth.  There  are  the  rich,  who  make 
gold  their  hope,  and  line  gold  their  con- 
Hdence  ;  there  are  the  poor,  whom  even 
destitution  cannot  urge  to  seek  treasure 
above. 

And  what  can  such  say,  now  that 
they  ai-e  standing  in  controversy  with 
God  1  Let  us  pause  yet  a  moment 
longer,  that  we  may  hear  what  God  has 
to  urge  against  men.  There  occur  to 
the  mind  those  striking  words  in  the 
book  of  Revelation,  "  Behold  I  stand  at 
the  door  and  knock."  God  seems  to 
enumerate  the  modes  in  which  he  has 
knocked  at  the  door  of  our  hearts,  and 
to  appeal  to  them  in  proof  how  just  aro 
his  complaints  of  our  obduracy.  We 
mifjht  almost  say  that  he  knocks  by 
every  object  in  creation,  and  by  every 
provision  in  redemption.  If  I  look 
abroad  upon  the  magnificence  of  the 
heavens,  there  is  not  a  star  in  all  that 
glorious  troop  which  comes  marching 
through  immensity,  which  does  not 
summon  me  to  acknowledge  and  admire 
the  j^ower  of  Godhead,  and  which  may 
not  therefore  be  said  to  make  an  appeal 
at  the  door  of  the  heart,  audible  by  all 
who  yield  homage  to  a  Creator.  If  I 
survey  the  earth  on  which  we  dwell,  and 
study  its  marvellous  adaptations  to  the 
wants  of  its  inhabitants,  and  scrutinize 
what  goes  on  in  the  vast  laboratories  of 
nature ;  or  if  I  descend  into  myself, 
"  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made,"  and 
examine  the  curious  mechanism,  the 
beneficent  contrivances,  and  the  exquisite 
symmetries  which  distinguish  the  body 
— why,  there  is  nothing  without,  and 
there  is  nothing  within,  which  does  not 
call  to  the  remembering  and  reverencing 
God :  every  feature  of  the  landscape, 
every  tree  of  the  forest,  every  flower  of 
the  garden,  every  Joint  and  every  muscle 
of  my  frame,  all  are  gifted  with  energy 
in  proclaiming  that  there  is  a  Supreme 
Being,  infinite  in  wisdom  and  goodness 
as  well  as  in  might ;  and  through  each, 
therefore,  may  this  Being  be  affirmed  to 
knock  at  the  heart,  demanding  its  love 
and  allegiance.  And  God  knocks,  as 
you  will  all  allow,  by  the  visitations  of 
his  Providence  :  he  knocks,  moreover, 
by  the  suggestions  of  conscience  and 
the  strivings  of  the  Spirit.  Who  is  there 
of  you  who  will  presume  to  say  that  he 
never  heard  this  knocking  1  We  know 
better.  We  know  that,  in  the  worst 
storm  and  mutiny  of  passion,  when  the 


PLEADING  BEFORE  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


379 


heart  itself  has  been  the  scene  of  conflict 
and  turmoil,  the  wild  and  battling  in- 
mates have  often  been  startled  by  an 
appeal  from  without ;  and  that,  for  a 
moment  at  least,  there  has  been  the  hush 
as  of  shame  or  of  fear,  so  tliat  there  has 
been  space  for  an  energetic  remonstrance, 
a  remonstrance  which,  if  it  failed  to  pro- 
duce permanent  order,  left  a  heavier 
condemnation  on  the  wretched  slave  of 
the  flesh  and  its  lusts.  It  is  not  then 
difficult  for  God,  or  for  Christ,  to  show 
that  this  has  indeed  been  his  course 
with  you  all — "  I  stand  at  the  door  and 
knock."  But  you  have  opened  the  door 
to  a  thousand  other  guests  j'you  have 
received  them  into  the  recesses  of  the 
heart ;  but  Him  you  have  coldly  re- 
pulsed, or  superciliously  neglected.  O, 
we  fear  that  he  may  say  to  too  many 
of  you,  I  stood,  and  knocked  in  the  hour 
of  prosperity,  but  ye  gave  no  heed  to  a 
message  delivered  in  the  form  of  abund- 
ance and  gladness.  I  came  in  tlie  dark- 
ness and  stillness  of  adversity,  thinking 
that  you  might  open  to  me  when  you 
were  careworn  and  sad  ;  but  you  chose 
other  comforters,  and  I  asked  you  in 
vain  to  receive  "the  Lord  of  peace."  I 
called  you  through  all  the  glories  and  all 
the  wonders  of  the  visible  universe  ;  but 
it  availed  nothing  that  I  wrote  my  sum- 
mons on  the  firmament,  and  syllabled  it 
alike  in  the  voices  and  the  silences  of 
immensity  :  "  ye  have  set  at  nought  all 
my  counsel,  and  would  none  of  my  re- 
proof." I  gave  you  my  woi-d,  I  sent  to 
you  my  Gospel ;  but  it  was  to  no  pur- 
pose that  I  knocked  with  the  cross,  the 
cross  on  which  my  Son  was  stretched  to 
deliver  you  fi'om  death  :  you  were  too 
busy,  or  too  proud,  or  too  unbelieving, 
to  give  ear  to  the  invitation ;  and  I 
pleaded  in  vain,  though  I  pleaded  as  the 
conqueror  of  your  every  foe.  And  in 
many  an  hour  of  temptation,  in  many  a 
moment  of  guilty  pleasure,  amid  the  noise 
of  business  and  in  the  retirements  of  soli- 
tude, I  have  knocked  so  loudly,  through 
the  instrumentality  of  conscience,  that 
you  could  not  but  start,  and  make  some 
faint  promise  of  admitting  me  hereafter  ; 
but,  alas,  when  I  looked  for  the  opening 
of  the  door,  you  have  but  barred  it  more 
effectually  against  me. 

Ah,  if  it  be  by  such  a  reference  to  the 
modes  in  which  he  has  knocked  at  your 
hearts,  but  kno(;ked  in  vain,  that  God 
conducts  his    side    of  the    controversy, 


what  can  you  have  to  plead?  It  is  in 
very  moving  terms  that  he  urges  his  ac- 
cusation. 1  have  long  and  tenderly 
watched  you.  I  have  spared  no  pains  to 
turn  you  from  evil.  J^y  mercies  and  by 
judgments,  by  promises  and  by  threaten- 
ings,  I  have  striven  to  fix  your  thoughts 
on  the  things  which  belong  to  yourpeace. 
I  counted  nothing  too  costly  to  be  done 
for  your  rescue  :  I  spared  not  mine  own 
Son ;  and  I  have  borne,  year  after  year, 
with  your  waywardness  and  ingratitude, 
not  willing  that  you  should  perish,  though 
you  have  acted  as  if  resolved  that  you 
would  not  be  saved.  And  now  "  testify 
against  me."  "  What  could  have  beea 
done  more  to  my  vineyard  that  I  have 
not  done  in  it  ?  Wherefore,  when  I 
looked  that  it  should  bring  forth  grapes, 
brought  it  forth  wild  grapes  1 "  Is  it 
that  you  have'  not  been  warned,  though 
I  have  sent  my  servants  to  publish  my 
terrors  ?  is  it  that  you  have  not  been  en- 
treated, though  I  have  charged  them 
with  the  tidings  of  redemption  ]  this, 
to  sum  all,  is  my  accusation  against  you. 
Ye  have  derived  your  being  from  me, 
ye  have  been  sustained  in  being  by  me, 
ye  have  been  continually  the  objects  of 
my  bounty,  continually  the  objects  of 
my  long-suffering;  and  nevertheless,  ye 
are  still  unmindful  of  my  hand,  still  liv- 
ing "  without  God  in  the  world,"  still 
walking  in  ways  of  your  own  devising, 
still  crucifying  my  Son  afresh,  and  put- 
ting away  from  you  the  offer  of  everlast- 
ing life. 

What  have  you  to  say  against  this 
accusation  ]  we  do  not  believe  that  you 
will  attempt  to  say  any  thing.  We  are 
persuaded,  that,  as  it  was  with  the  man 
who  had  not  on  the  wedding-garment, 
you  will  be  speechless.  Ay,  but  God 
shall  not  want  an  answer,  he  shall  not 
want  a  verdict,  because,  self-condemned, 
you  have  no  word  to  utter.  Not  in  vain 
hath  he  summoned  the  mountains  and 
the  strong  foundations  of  the  earth  to  be 
present  at  his  controversy  with  you. 
The  very  hills  have  witnessed  his  loving- 
kindness  toward  you,  clothed  as  they 
have  been  with  the  corn,  and  crested  with 
the  fruits,  which  he  has  bountifully  pro- 
vided for  your  sustenance.  And  on  one 
of  these  mountains  of  the  earth  was  the 
altar  erected  on  v/hich  his  Son  died  ;  and 
so  fearful  was  the  oblation,  that  Calvary 
shook  at  the  cry  of  the  mysterious 
victim.     And  now,  therefore,  whilst  he 


380 


PLEADING  BEFORE  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


charges  you  with  ingratitude,  whilst  he 
arrays  against  you  the  continued  provo- 
cations, the  insult,  the  neglect,  which  he 
has  received  at  your  hands ;  whilst  he 
speaks  of  abused  mercies,  of  despised 
opportunities,  of  resisted  entreaties  ; 
and  you  remain  silent,  unable  to  refute 
the  charge,  and  yet  unwilling  to  ac- 
knowledge its  truth — there  is  a  sound 
as  of  heaving  rocks,  and  of  foaming  tor- 
rents, and  of  bursting  volcanoes  ;  nature, 
whicli  became  vocal  when  a  Mediator 
died,  utters  a  yet  deeper  groan  now  that 
a  Mediator  is  rejected  :  and  lull  and 
forest,  and  rock  and  flood,  send  forth 
one  mighty  cry,  the  cry  of  amazement 
that  men  should  "  neglect  so  great  sal- 
vation ; "  the  cry  of  acknowledgment 
that  the  Almighty  has  made  good  his 
accusations. 

And  are  we  here  to  dissolve  the  court  1 
Man  has  failed  to  show  wherein  God 
has  wearied  him  ;  but  God  has  drawn  a 
verdict  from  the  inanimate  creation  that 
he  himself  has  been  wearied  by  man. 
It  is  a  strange  expression  to  use  ;  but  it 
is  quite  consistent  with  the  language  of 
Scripture,  that  we  should  speak  of  God 
as  wearied  by  our  sins.  "  Ye  have 
wearied  the  Lord,"  we  read  in  the  pro- 
phet Malachi,  "  yet  ye  say,  wherein  have 
we  wearied  him  1"  "  Hear,"  saith  Isaiah, 
"  O  house  of  David ;  is  it  a  small  thing 
for  you  to  weary  men  ;  but  will  ye  weary 
my  God  also  1"  And  did  not  God  him- 
Belf  say,  by  the  mouth  of  the  same  pro- 
phet, to  those  who  rendered  him  hypo- 
critical service,  "  your  new  moons,  and 
your  appointed  feasts,  my  soul  hateth ; 
they  are  a  trouble  unto  me,  I  am  weary 
to  bear  them  V  We  will  not  then  dissolve 
the  court.  It  is  so  startling  a  consid- 
eration, that  we  should  be  actually  able 
to  weary  God  ;  the  thing,  if  done,  must 
entail  so  terrible  a  condemnation,  that 
we  may  well  remain  yet  a  few  moments 
longer  within  the  august  chamber  which 
was  built  i\)V  the  controversy,  to  ponder 
our  state,  and  examine  what  has  been 
proved  by  these  judicial  proceedings. 
It  is  very  clear,  that,  if  God  may  be 
wearied,  we  may  exhaust  his  patience, 
80  that  he  may  be  provoked  to  leave  us 
to  ourselves,  to  withdraw  from  us  the 
assistance  of  his  grace,  and  to  determine 
that  he  will  make  no  further  effort  to 
bring  us  to  repentance.  Ajid  on  this 
account  especially  it  is,  that  there  is  such 
emphasis  in  the  words  of  our  Savior, 


"  agree  with  thine  adversary  quickly, 
while  thou  art  in  the  way  with  him." 
Try  not  his  patience  too  far;  venture 
not  actually  into  court  with  him  ;  but 
quickly,  without  any  further  delay,  seek 
to  compose  your  difl'erence,  "  l<ist  at 
any  time  the  advei-sary  deliver  thee  to 
the  judge,  and  the  judge  deliver  thee  to 
the  officer,  and  thou  be  cast  into  prison." 
It  is  this  counsel  which  we  would  pray 
God  might  be  imprinted  by  our  discourse 
on  those  of  you  who  have  not  yet  been 
reconciled  to  their  Maker.  You  have 
indeed  come  this  night  into  court,  and 
you  have  been  altogether  cast  in  your 
suit.  But 'the  trial  has  not  been  that 
which  will  fix  your  portion  for  eternity. 
It  has  only  been  with  the  view  of  alarm- 
ing you,  of  bringing  you  to  see  the  perils 
of  the  position  in  which  you  stand,  that 
God  has  now  entered  into  controversy 
with  you,  and  summoned  you  to  plead 
with  him  before  the  mountains  of  the 
earth.  And  the  verdict  against  you, 
which  has  been  delivered  by  hill  and 
forest,  is  but  a  solemn  admonition,  a 
warning  which,  if  duly  and  instantly 
heeded,  shall  cause  a  wholly  different 
decision,  when  you  appear  at  that  tri- 
bunal whose  sentences  must  be  final. 

The  mountains  and  the  strong  foun 
dations  of  the  earth,  yea,  the  whole  vi- 
sible creation,  may  again  be  appealed 
to  :  they  may  again  be  witnesses,  when 
God  shall  arise  to  judgment,  and  call 
quick  and  dead  to  his  bar.  It  gives  a 
very  sublime,  though  awful,  character 
to  the  last  assize,  thus  to  regard  it  as 
imaged  by  the  controversy  in  our  text. 
I  see  a  man  brought  to  the  judgment- 
seat  of  Christ :  the  accusation  against 
him  is,  that  he  lived  a  long  life  in  neg- 
lect and  forgetfulness  of  God,  enjoy- 
ing many  blessings,  but  never  giving  a 
thought  to  the  source  whence  they  came. 
Who  are  witnesses  against  him  1  Lo, 
the  sun  declares,  every  day  I  wakened 
him  by  my  glorious  shinings,  flooding 
the  heavens  with  evidences  of  a  God  : 
but  he  rose  without  a  prayer  from  his 
couch  ;  and  he  made  no  use  of  the  light 
but  to  prosecute  his  plans  of  pleasure 
or  gain.  The  moon  and  the  stars  assert 
that  "  niglitly,  to  the  listening  earth  " 
they  repeated  the  story  of  their  oiigin ; 
but  that,  though  they  spangled  the  cur- 
tain which  was  drawn  round  his  bed,  he 
lay  down,  as  he  rose,  with  no  word  of 
supplication;    and   that  often  were  the 


HEAVEN. 


381 


shadows  of  the  night  used  only  to  con- 
ceal liis  guiltiness  from  man.  Hills  and 
valleys  have  a  voice  :  forests  and  foun- 
tains have  a  voice  :  every  feature  of  the 
variegated  landscape  testifies  that  it  bore 
the  impress  of  a  God,  but  always  failed 
to  awaken  any  reverence  for  his  name. 
There  is  not  an  herb,  there  is  not  a  flower, 
which  will  be  silent.  The  corn  is  as- 
serting that  its  ripe  ears  were  gathered 
without  thankfulness  :  the  spring  is  mur- 
muring that  its  waters  were  drawn 
without  gratitude  :  the  vine  is  testify- 
ing that  its  rich  juices  were  distilled  to 
produce  a  false  joy.  The  precious 
metals  of  the  earth  are  all  stamped 
with  accusation,  for  they  were  sought 
with  a  guilty  avidity ;  the  winds  of 
heaven  breathe  a  stern  charge,  for  they 
were  never  laden  with  praises ;  the 
waves  of  the  great  deep  toss  themselves 
into  witnesses,  for  they  were  traversed 
by  ships  that  luxuries  might  be  gathered, 
but  not  that  Christianity  might  be  dif- 
fused.    Take  heed,  man  of  the  world. 


how  thou  dost  thus  arm  all  nature  against 
thyself  Be  warned  by  the  voice  wliich 
tlie  inanimate  creation  is  already  utter- 
ing, and  make  peace  with  thine  adver- 
sary "  whilst  thou  art  in  the  way  with 
him."  Thine  adversary !  and  who  is 
this  ]  Not  the  sun,  not  the  moon,  not 
the  troop  of  stars,  not  the  forests,  not 
the  mountains  :  these  are  but  witnesses 
on  the  side  of  thine  adversary.  The  ad- 
versaiy  himself^ — oh  they  are  words 
which  almost  choke  the  utterance  ! — the 
adversary  himself  is  the  everlasting  God. 
Yet  he  wishes  to  be  your  friend  :  he  of- 
fers to  be  your  friend  :  there  is  nothing 
but  your  own  determination  which  can 
keep  you  at  enmity.  By  the  terrors  of 
the  last  judgment,  by  all  the  hopes,  by 
all  the  fears  of  eternity,  do  I  conjure 
such  of  you  as  have  not  yet  made  peace 
with  their  God,  to  turn  at  once  to  the 
Mediator  Christ  :  "  God  was  in  Christ, 
reconciling  the  world  unto  himself;"  and 
now  he  beseeches  you  through  us,  "  Bo 
ye  reconciled  unto  God." 


SERMON    XI 


HEAVEN. 


"  And  there  shall  be  no  night  there  ;  and  they  need  no  candle,  neither  lijrht  of  the  sun;  for  the  Lord  God  giveth  then 
light:  and  they  shall  reign  for  ever  and  ever." — Revelation  xxii.  5. 


Our  position  upon  earth  is  represent- 
ed, as  you  well  know,  in  Scripture  as 
that  of  combatants,  of  beings  engaged  in 
a  great  struggle,  but  to  whom  is  propos- 
ed a  vast  recompense  of  reward.  The 
imagery  which  St.  Paul  delights  to  use, 
when  illustrating  onr  condition,  is  deriv- 
ed from  the  public  games  so  famous  in 
antiquity.  The  competitors  in  a  race, 
the  opponents  in  wrestling,  are  the  par- 
ties to  whom  he  loves  to  liken  himself 


and  other  followers  of  Christ.  And  the 
imagery  is  employed  not  only  as  aptly 
depicting  a  state  of  struggle  and  conflict ; 
but  because  they  who  entered  the  lists 
in  the  public  games  were  animated  by 
the  hope  of  prizes  which  success  was  to 
procure;  and  because,  in  like  manner, 
it  is  the  privilege  of  christians  lO  know 
that,  if  they  be  faithful  to  the  end,  con- 
test will  issue  in  an  "exceeding  and  eter- 
nal weight  of  glory."     Shame  upon  the 


383 


HEAVEN. 


Bjiirltual  combatants,  the  apostle  seems 
in  one  place  to  say,  if  they  can  be  languid 
in  exertion.  A  jialtry  recompense  will 
\irge  the  wrestler,  or  the  runner,  to  sub- 
mit to  painful  training,  and  to  strain  every 
:nuscle.  Shall  we  then,  with  heaven  full 
in  view,  grudge  the  toil,  or  spare  tlie  ef- 
ibrt,  which  may  be  needful  to  secure  a 
portion  in  its  joys  1  "  They  do  it  to  ob- 
tnin  a  corruptible  crown,  but  we  an  in- 
corruptible." 

If  however  the  prize  is  to  produce  its 
just  influence  in  animating  to  exertion, 
it  must  be  often  surveyed,  that  we  may 
assure  ourselves  of  its  excellence,  and 
therefore  long  more  for  its  possession. 
Tho  competitor  in  the  games  had  the 
honored  garland  in  sight :  if  inclined  for 
a  moment  to  slacken,  he  had  but  to  turn 
his  eji"?  on  the  coronet,  and  he  pressed 
with  new  vigor  towards  the  goal.  It 
should  be  thus  with  the  christian,  with 
the  spiritual  competitor.  He  should  have 
his  thoughts  much  on  heaven  :  he  should 
refresh  himself  with  frequent  glimpses 
of  the  shining  inheritance.  By  deep 
meditation,  by  prayerful  study  of  the 
Bcriplural  notices  of  another  world,  he 
should  strive  to  prove  to  himself  more 
and  more  that  it  is  indeed  a  good  land 
towards  which  he  journeys.  He  should 
not  bo.  content  with  a  vague  and  general 
belief,  that  the  things  reserved  for  those 
who  love  God  must  be  worth  all  the  ef- 
forts and  sacrifices  which  attainment  can 
demand.  This  will  hardly  suffice,  when 
set  against  the  pleasures  and  allurements 
of  the  world  :  he  must  be  able  to  oppose 
good  to  good,  and  to  satisfy  himself  on 
the  evidence,  as  it  were,  of  his  own  af- 
fections, that  he  prefers  what  is  infinite- 
ly best  in  preferring  the  future  to  the 
present. 

And  certainly  he  may  do  this.  With- 
out speaking  unadvisedly,  or  enthusiasti- 
cally, nay,  speaking  only  the  words  of 
soberness  and  truth,  we  may  safely  say 
that  those  who  muse  much  on  heaven, 
who  ponder  its  descriptions,  and  strive 
to  image  its  occupations  and  enjoyments, 
are  often  privileged  with  such  foretastes 
of  what  God  hath  prcjparcd  for  his  peo- 
ple, as  serve,  like  the  clusters  of  Eshcol, 
to  teach  them  practically  the  richness  of 
Canaan.  With  them  it  is  nf)t  altogether 
matter  of  report,  that  the  iiihoritaiice  of 
the  saints  is  transcendently  glorious  :  it 
is  already  true  in  part,  that,  "  as  they  have 
hcaid,  80  have  they  seen  in  the  city  of 


their  God."  They  have  waited  upon 
the  Lord,  until,  according  to  the  promise 
of  Isaiah,  they  have  been  enabled  to 
"mount  up  with  wings  as  eagles  ;"  they 
have  gazed  for  a  moment  on  the  street 
of  gold,  and  have  heard  the  harpings  of 
the  innumerable  multitude. 

Now  if  it  be  thus  of  exceeding  impor- 
tance to  the  christian  that  he  should  often 
meditate  upon  heaven,  it  must  be  the  duty 
of  the  minister  to  bring  before  him  occa- 
sionally those  descriptions  of  the  world 
to  come,  which  God  has  been  pleased  to 
furnish  in  his  word.  And  a  very  delight- 
ful pait  this  is  of  ministerial  duty.  We 
are  often  constrained  to  set  forth  the  ter- 
rors of  the  Lord,  though  natural  feeling 
would  make  us  shrink  from  dwelling  on 
the  vengeance  which  will  surely  overtake 
the  careless  and  unbelieving.  We  are 
obliged  to  insist  very  frequently  on  the 
first  principles  of  Christianity,  "laying 
the  foundation  of  repentance  from  dead 
works,  and  of  faith  towards  God."  And 
it  is  not  a  rare  thing,  that  sermons  have 
to  take  a  reproachful  character,  exhibit- 
ing the  sins  and  inconsistencies  of  pro- 
fessoi's  of  godliness,  upbraiding  the  de- 
fective practice  of  those  who  name  the 
name  of  Christ,  and  urging  them,  in  no 
measured  terms,  to  "  walk  worthy  of  the 
vocation  wherewith  they  are  called." 
But  it  were  a  great  mistake  to  imagine 
that  the  preacher  consults  his  own  incli- 
nation, in  selecting  such  topics  of  dis- 
course. Far  more  agreeable  to  him 
would  it  be  to  dilate  upon  privileges,  to 
address  his  hearers  simply  as  heirs  of 
immortality,  and  to  exhaust  all  his  ener- 
gy on  the  lively  hope  to  which  they  are 
begotten.  But  this  must  not  always  be, 
whilst  congregations  are  composed  of 
the  believing  and  the  unbelieving,  whilst 
probably  the  majority  is  with  the  latter, 
and  whilst  even  the  former  come  far 
short  of  "  adorning  the  doctrine  of  God 
the  Savior  in  all  things."  Still,  as  we 
have  already  said,  the  clergyman  is  not 
only  permitted,  he  is  bound,  to  take  hea- 
ven occasionally  as  his  theme  :  and  a  very 
refreshing  thing  to  him  it  is,  when  he 
may  devote  a  discourse  to  the  j<iys  ^vhich 
are  in  reserve  for  tho  righteous.  Come 
then,  men  and  brethren,  we  have  no  ter- 
rors for  you  to-night,  no  reproaches,  no 
threatenings.  We  are  about  to  speak  to 
you  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  the  celestial 
city,  into  which  "shall  enter  nothing  that 
defileth,"  but  whose  gates  stand  open  to 


HEAVEN. 


383 


all  who  seek  admission  through  the  sure- 
tyship of  Christ. 

We  select  one  verse  from  the  glowing 
account  which  St.  John  has  left  us  of  the 
vision  with  which  he  was  favored,  after 
tracing,  in  mystic  figures,  the  history  of 
the  church  up  to  the  general  resurrection 
and  judgment.  The  two  last  chapters 
of  the  book  of  Eevelation,  inasmuch  as 
they  describe  what  was  beheld  after  the 
general  judgment,  must  bo  regarded  as 
relating  strictly  to  the  heavenly  state. 
The  book  of  Revelation  is  a  progressive 
book  :  it  goes  forward  regularly  from  one 
period  to  a  following  ;  and  this  should  be 
always  borne  in  mind  when  we  strive  to 
fix  the  meaning  of  any  of  its  parts.  It 
has  so  much  the  character  of  a  history, 
that  the  dates,  so  to  speak,  of  its  chapters, 
will  often  guide  us  to  their  just  interpre- 
tation. And  since  the  twentieth  chapter 
closes  with  the  setting  up  of  the  great 
white  throne,  and  the  judgment  of  every 
man  according  to  his  works,  we  conclude 
that  what  remains  of  the  book  belongs  to 
that  final  condition  of  the  saints,  which 
we  are  wont  to  understand  by  heaven 
and  its  joys.  This  being  allowed,  we 
may  go  at  once  to  the  examining  the  as- 
sertions of  our  text,  applying  them  with- 
out reserve  to  our  everlasting  inherit- 
ance. The  assertions  are  of  two  kinds, 
negative  and  positive.  They  tell  us  what 
there  is  not  in  heaven,  and  what  there  is. 
Let  these  then  furnish  our  topics  of  dis- 
course, though  in  treating  of  the  one  we 
shall  perhaps  find-  it  needful  to  trench  on 
the  other.  Let  us  consider,  in  the  first 
place,  that  there  is  no  night  in  heaven,  no 
j^candle,  no  light  of  the  sun :  let  us  con- 
sider, in  the  second  place,  that  there 
the  Lord  God  Almighty  shall  give  the 
saints  light,  and  that  "they  shall  reign 
for  ever  and  ever." 

Now  we  may  begin  by  observing  to 
you,  that,  with  our  present  constitution, 
there  would  be  nothing  cheering  in  an 
arrangement  which  took  away  night  from 
our  globe.  The  alternation  of  day  and 
night,  the  two  always  making  up  the 
same  period  of  twenty-four  hours,  is 
among  the  most  beautiful  of  the  many 
proofs  that  God  fitted  the  earth  for  man, 
and  man  for  the  earth.  We  know  that 
other  planets  revolve  in  very  dilferent 
times  on  their  axis,  so  that  their  days  and 
nights  are  of  very  different  lengths  from 
our  own.  We  could  not  live  on  one  of 
those  planets.     We  could  not,  at  least, 


conform  ourselves  to  the  divisions  of 
time  :  for  we  require  a  period  of  repose 
in  every  twenty-four  hours,  and  could 
not  subsist,  if  there  were  only  to  come 
such  a  period  in  every  lumdred,  or  in 
every  thousand.  The  increased  length 
of  the  period  would  avail  us  nothing  :  it 
would  not  be  adapted  to  the  human 
machine :  we  could  not  sleep  for  three 
of  our  present  days,  and  so  be  fitted  to 
keep  awake  fonten.  Thus  the  present 
division  of  time  has  clearly  been  appoint- 
ed with  reference  to  our  constitution : 
we  have  been  made  on  purpose  for  a 
world  which  revolves  in  twenty-four 
hours,  or  that  world,  if  you  will,  hag  been 
made  on  purpose  for  us.*  Since  then 
we  require  the  present  alternation  of  light 
and  darkness,  we  may  fairly  say  that  it 
is  no  pleasant  image  to  the  mind,  that  of 
a  world  without  night :  it  is,  at  least, 
only  by  supposing  a  great  change  to 
pass  on  our  constitfition  and  faculties, 
that  we  can  give  to  the  image  any  thing 
of  attractiveness. 

And  besides  this,  it  is  very  easy  to 
speak  of  night  as  the  season  of  dreariness 
and  gloom,  as  the  representative  of  ig- 
norance and  error — but  what  should  we 
be  without  night  1  Where  is  there  so 
eloquent  an  instructor  as  night  1  What 
reveals  so  much  of  the  workmanship  of 
the  ever-living  God  ]  Imagine  this 
world  to  have  been  always  without  night, 
and  what  comparatively  would  its  inhab- 
itants have  known  of  the  universe  1  It 
would  have  seemed  to  them,  at  least  to 
those  on  the  irradiated  hemisphere,  that 
their  own  globe  and  the  sun  made  up 
creation.  They  might  have  studied  the 
wonders  which  overspread  the  earth,  and 
have  surveyed,  with  admiration  and  de- 
light, the  glorious  face  of  the  ever-chang- 
ing landscape.  But  they  could  not  have 
gazed  on  the  mighty  map  of  the  firma- 
ment :  they  could  scarcely  have  even 
conjectured  that  space,  in  its  remotest 
depths,  was  crowded  with  systems  and 
constellations,  and  that  the  world  on 
which  they  trode  was  but  the  solitary 
unit  of  a  sum  which  imagination  was  too 
weak  to  tell  up.  So  that  night,  with  all 
its  obscurity  and  concealment,  reveals 
unspeakably  more  to  us  than  day  :  then 
it  is  that  the  astronomer  goes  forth  on  his 
wondrous  search,  passing  through  region 


*  See  Whewell's  Bridgewater  treatise, "  Length 
of  the  Day." 


3S4 


HEAVEN. 


after  region,  stu  deled  splendidly  willi  star 
and  {.laiU't  :  tlie  sun,  by  liis  very  biiglit- 
•jcss,  lias  hidden  from  him  al!  this  ricli 
jewelry  of  the  lieavens  ;  and  it  is  not  till 
set  as  a  diadem  round  the  forehead  of 
larkness  that  he  is  able  to  look  on  its 
lustres.  So  that  there  is  not  necessarily 
any  thing  very  desirable  in  the  absence 
of  night  :  it  would  be  the  reverse  of  a 
blessing  to  us  in  our  present  condition, 
and  would  imply  the  diminution  rather 
than  the  enlargement  of  knowledge. 

What  then  are  we  to  learn  from  the 
etatement,  that  there  shall  be  no  night 
in  heaven  1  We  learn  much,  whether 
you  take  it  literally  or  metaphorically; 
whether,  that  is,  it  be  the  natural,  or  the 
figurative,  night,  whose  total  absence  is 
affirmed.  Night  is  now  grateful,  yea 
necessary,  to  us,  as  bringing  quiet  and 
repose  to  overwrought  bodies  and  minds. 
We  cannot  prosecute  any  labor,  how- 
ever profitable,  any  study,  however  in- 
teresting, without  gi-anting  ourselves  pe- 
riods of  rest :  we  may  sorely  grudge  the 
inleiruption  ;  we  may  endeavor  to  ab- 
breviate the  periods :  but  nature  im- 
periously claims  her  time  of  slumber,  and 
is  sure  to  avenge  its  undue  abridgment 
by  the'  weariness  and  waste  of  every 
power.  But  all  this  arises  from  the  im- 
perfectness  of  our  present  condition  :  we 
are  so  constituted  that  we  cannot  inces- 
santly pursue  either  occupation  or  enjoy- 
ment, but  must  I'ecruit  ourselves  by  re- 
pose, whether  for  business  or  jjleasure. 
And  it  would  evidently  be  to  raise  us 
yery  greatly  in  the  scale  of  animated  be- 
ing, to  make  it  no  longer  needful  that  we 
should  have  intervals  of  rest;  body  and 
Boul  being  incapable  of  exhaustion,  or 
rather  of  fatigue.  What  a  mind  would 
that  be  which  could  contirme,  hour  after 
hour,  yea,  day  after  day,  intent  on  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge,  never  pausing 
for  a  moment  to  give  breathing  time  to 
its  powers,  but  advancing  in  unwearied 
march  from  one  height  to  another  of 
truth.  And  what  a  body  would  that  be, 
which  should  never,  by  any  want  or  in- 
firmity, detain  or  hinder  such  a  mind, 
but  rather  serve  as  its  auxiliary,  aiding 
and  ujiholdiiig  in  its  ceaseless  investiga- 
tions, in  place  of  rc(]uiring  it  to  halt  I'or 
the  recruiting  of  the  flesh. 

It  is  such  a  change,  such  an  advance- 
ment, in  our  condition,  which  ap,pcars 
indicated  by  there  being  no  night  in 
heaven.     There  is  no  night   there,  be- 


cause there  we  shall  need  no  peri'  -JiS 
of  inactivity  :  we  shall  never  be  sensi- 
ble of  fatigue,  and  never  either  wish  or 
want  repose.  It  shall  not  be  as  now, 
when  we  must  stop  in  the  pursuit  of 
what  we  long  for,  or  become  incapable 
of  pursuit,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of 
what  we  love,  or  become  incapable  of 
enjoyment.  Never  tired  h^r  performing 
God's  will,  never  wearieil  by  celebra- 
ting his  praises,  we  shall  feel  always 
the  freshness  of  the  morning,  always 
as  at  the  beginning  of  a  day,  and  yet 
be  always  as  far  off  as  ever  from  its 
close.  It  is  given  as  one  characteristic 
of  Deity,  that  he  never  slumbers  nor 
sleeps.  It  is  affirmed  moreover  of  the 
four  living  creatures  which  are  round 
about  the  throne,  that  they  "  rest  not 
day  and  night,  saying.  Holy,  holy,  holy 
Lord  God  Almighty,  which  was,  and  is, 
and  is  to  come."  So  that  it  is  a  per 
fection  to  need  no  sleep ;  it  is  to  be  like 
the  very  highest  of  created  intelligences  ; 
nay,  it  is  to  be  like  the  very  Creator 
himself.  And,  therefore,  I  read  the 
promise  of  a  splendid  exaltation,  of  an 
inconceivable  enlargement  of  every  fa- 
culty and  capacity,  in  the  announce- 
ment of  the  absence  of  night.  This  my 
mind,  which  is  now  speedily  overtasked, 
which  is  jaded  by  every  increase  of  know- 
ledge, which  breaks  down,  as  it  were, 
if  urged  beyond  a  certain  point,  shall 
never  be  obliged  to  withdraw  from  the 
contemplation  of  the  august  wonders  of 
heaven.  This  my  body,  whose  wants 
unavoidably  engage  much  of  my  atten- 
tion, whose  weaknesses  incapacitate  me 
from  continuous  application,  which  is 
little  better  than  a  drag  upon  the  spirit 
when  it  would  soar  towards  the  dwell- 
ing-place of  God,  shall  have  organs  and 
senses  for  aiding  the  soul  in  her  inces- 
sant inquiries,  powers  which  shall  never 
flag,  but  seem  perpetually  invigorated 
through  being  perpetnally  employed. 
How  glorious  then  the  promise  of  ad- 
vancement, contained  in  the  promise  of 
there  being  no  night  in  heaven.  All 
feebleness,  all  remains  and  traces  of  im- 
perfection, for  ever  removed,  the  saints 
shall  spring  to  a  surprising  heigiit 
amongst  orders  of  creation,  fitted  not 
only  in  their  intellectual  part,  but  even 
in  their  material,  to  serve  God  without  a 
pause,  and  to  enjoy  whilst  they  serve  him. 
And  though  it  be  true  that  night  now 
discloses  to  us  the  wonders  of  t-hc  uni- 


HEAVEN. 


385 


verse,  so  that  to  take  from  us  night  were 
to  take  a  revelation  of  the  magnificence 
of  creation,  whence  comes  this  but  fiom 
the  imperfection  of  faculties — faculties 
which  only  enable  us  to  discern  certain 
bodies,  and  under  certain  circumstances, 
and  which  probably  suffer  far  more  to 
escape  them  than  they  biing  to  our  noticed 
We  speak  of  the  powers  of  vision,  and 
very  amazing  they  are,  giving  us  a  kind 
of  empire  over  a  vast  panorama,  so  that 
we  gather  in  its  beauties,  and  compel 
them,  as  though  by  enchantment,  to  paint 
themselves  in  miniature  through  the  tiny 
lenses  of  the  eye.  But  nevertheless 
how  feeble  are  these  powers  !  bodies  of 
less  than  a  certain  magnitude  altogether 
escape  them ;  the  microscope  must  be 
called  in,  though  this  only  carries  the 
empire  one  or  two  degrees  lower  : 
whilst  other  bodies,  aerial  for  example, 
or  those  which  move  with  extraordina- 
ry velocity,  are  either  invisible,  or  only 
partially  discerned.  And  is  it  not  on 
account  of  this  feebleness  of  power, 
that  the  eye  asks  the  shadows  of  night 
before  it  can  survey  the  majestic  troop 
of  stars  1  That  troop  is  on  its  everlast- 
ing march,  as  well  whilst  the  sun  is  high 
on  the  firmament,  as  when  he  has  gone 
down  amid  the  clouds  of  the  west;  and 
it  is  only  because  the  eye  haa  not  strength 
to  discern  the  less  brilliant  bodies,  in  the 
presence  of  the  great  luminary  of  the 
heavens,  that  it  must  wait  for  darkness 
to  disclose  to  it  the  peopled  scenes  of 
immensity. 

I  glory  then  once  more  in  the  pre- 
dicted absence  of  night.  Be  it  so,  that 
night  is  now  our  choice  instructor,  and 
that  a  world  of  perpetual  sunshine  would 
be  a  world  of  gross  ignorance  :  I  feel 
that  night  is  to  cease,  because  we  shall 
no  longer  need  to  be  taught  through  a 
veil,  because  we  shall  be  able  to  read 
the  universe  illuminated,  and  not  require 
as  now  to  have  it  darkened  for  our  gaze. 
It  is  like  telling  me  of  a  surprising  in- 
crease of  power  ;  I  shall  not  need  night 
as  a  season  of  repose,  I  shall  not  need 
night  as  a  medium  of  instruction.  I 
shall  be  adapted  in  every  faculty  to  an 
everlasting  day,  a  day  whose  lustres  shall 
not  obscure  the  palest  star,  and  yet  shall 
paint  the  smallest  flower ;  and  through- 
out whose  unbroken  shining,  creation 
will  continually  present  mo  with  fresh 
wonders,  and  find  me  always  prepared 
to  inspect  them. 


And  if  from  considering  night  in  its 
more  literal,  we  pass  to  the  consiilerinGT 
It  in  Its  meta])honcal  sense,  who  can 
fail  to  be  struck  with  the  beauty  and  ful- 
ness of  the  promise  of  our  text  1  We 
are  accustomed  to  take  night  as  the  im- 
age of  ignorance,  of  perplexity,  of  sor- 
row. And  to  affirm  the  absence  of  night 
from  the  heavenly  state  may  justly  be 
regarded  as  the  afhrming  the  absence 
of  all  which  darkness  is  used  to  repre- 
sent. "  There  shall  be  no  night  there," 
the  ways  of  providence  shall  be  made 
clear ;  the  mysteries  of  grace  shall  be 
unfolded  ;  the  "  things  hard  to  be  under- 
stood "  shall  be  explained;  we  shail  dis- 
cover Older  in  what  has  seemed  intricate, 
wisdom  in  what  we  have  thought  unac- 
countable, and  good  where  we  have 
seen  only  injury.  "  There  shall  be  no 
night  there  :"  children  of  affliction,  hear 
ye  this  :  pain  cannot  exist  in  the  atmo3- 
phere  of  heaven,  no  tears  are  shed  thei'e, 
no  graves  opened,  no  friends  removed  ; 
and  never,  for  a  lonely  mom.ent,  does 
even  a  flitting  cloud  shadow  the  deep 
rapture  of  tranquillity.  "  There  shall 
be  no  night  there  :"  children  of  calamity, 
hear  ye  this  :  no  baffled  plans  there,  no 
frustrated  hopes,  no  sudden  disappoint- 
ments; but  one  rich  tide  of  happiness 
shall  roll  through  eternity,  and  deepen 
as  it  rolls.  "  There  shall  be  no  night 
thei-e:"  ye  who  are  struggling  with  a 
corrupt  nature,  hear  ye  this  :  the  night 
is'  the  season  of  crime  ;  it  throws  its 
mantle  over  a  thousand  enormities  which 
shun  the  face  of  day.  And  to  say  that 
"  there  shall  be  no  night,"  is  to  proclaim 
the  reign  of  universal  purity  :  no  temp- 
tation there,  no  sinful  desires  to  resist, 
no  evil  heart  to  battle  with ;  but  holi- 
ness shall  have  become  the  very  nature 
of  the  glorified  inhabitants,  and  the  very 
element  in  which  they  move.  Oh,  this 
mortal  must  have  put  on  immortality, 
and  this  corruptible  incorruption,  ere  we 
can  know  all  the  meaning  and  richness 
of  the  description  which  rrakes  heaven 
a  place  without  night.  But  even  now  we 
can  ascertain  enough  to  assure  us,  that 
the  description  keeps  pace  with  all  that 
even  imagination  can  sketch  of  the  no- 
bility and  felicity  of  the  inheritance  of 
the  saints.  I  behold  man  made  equal 
with  the  angels,  no  longer  the  dwarfish  • 
thing  which,  at  the  best,  he  is,  whilst 
confined  to  this  narrow  stage,  but  grown 
into  mighty  stature,  so  that  he  moves 
49 


386 


amid  the  highest,  with  capacities  as  vast 
and  energies  as  unabaling.  I  behold 
the  page  of  universal  truth  spread  be- 
fore him,  no  obscurity  on  a  single  line, 
and  the  briglitness  not  dazzling  the 
vision.  I  behold  the  removal  of  all  mis- 
take, of  all  misconception  :  conjectures 
have  given  place  to  certainties  ;  contro- 
versies are  ended,  difficulties  arc  solved, 
prophecies  are  completed,  parables  arc 
interpreted.  I  behold  the  hushing  up 
of  every  grief,  the  wiping  away  every 
tear,  the  prevention  of  every  sorrow, 
the  communication  of  every  joy.  I  be- 
hold the  final  banishment  of  whatsoever 
has  alliance  with  sinfulness,  the  splendid 
reimpressment  of  every  feature  of  the 
divine  image  upon  man,  the  unlimited 
difl'usion  of  righteousness,  the  trium- 
phant admission  of  the  fallen  into  all  the 
purities  of  God's  presence,  and  their 
unassailable  security  against  fresh  apos- 
tacy.  I  behold  all  this  in  the  ])icture  of 
a  world  without  night:  and  I  feel  as 
thougli  I  did  not  need  the  wall  of  sap- 
phire, and  the  gate  of  pearl,  with  which 
the  evangelist  has  decked  the  New 
Jerusalem  ;  I  long  for  that  city,  and  I 
know  that  it  must  be  ineffably  beautiful, 
inconceivably  desirable,  when  I  have 
heard  him  simply  assert,  "  And  there 
shall  be  no  night  there." 

We  go  on  to  observe  that  St.  John 
is  not  content  with  affirming  the  ab- 
sence of  night :  he  proceeds  to  assert 
the  absence  of  those  means  or  instru- 
ments, to  which  we  are  here  indebted 
for  the  scattering  of  darkness.  Had  he 
confined  himself  to  saying  that  there 
would  be  no  night  in  heaven,  you  might 
have  understood  him  to  mean  that  the 
sun  will  never  set  in  heaven  ;  or  that  if 
it  did,  there  would  be  so  rich  an  artificial 
illumination  as  would  prevent  its  ra- 
diance being  missed.  But  there  is  to  be 
no  sun  :  neither  is  the  want  of  the  sun 
to  be  supplied  as  now  by  the  lamp  or 
the  torch.  "  They  need  no  candle, 
neither  light  of  the  sun."  And  what 
then  is  to  make  their  perpetual  day  l 
We  must  turn  to  the  second  division  of 
our  subject ;  we  nmst  consider  what 
there  is  in  heaven,  that  we  may  gather 
the  lessons  taught  by  what  there  is  not. 
"For  the  Lord  (rod  givcth  them  liglit." 
We  wish  you  to  observe  the  peculiarity 
of  the  expressioti,  "  they  need  no  candle, 
neither  light  of  the  sun."  The  candle 
and  sun  are  removed,  only  because  no 


longer  required.  And  then  a  reason  is 
subjoined  why  the  inhabitants  of  heaven 
have  no  further  use  for  the  candle  or 
the  sun,  "  for  the  Lord  God  giveth  them 
light."  They  have  light  in  the  next 
world  as  well  as  in  this ;  but  there  is  a 
great  dificrence  in  the  mode  or  channel 
of  communication  ;  they  obtain  it  there 
immediately,  or  directly,  from  God, 
whereas  here  it  comes  through  certain 
agencies  or  instruments  which  God  is 
pleased  to  appoint  and  employ.  And  if 
you  understand  light  as  here  used  me- 
taphorically, a  natural  thing  being  put 
for  a  mental  or  spiritual,  you  will  see  at 
once  that  this  removal  of  the  sun  and 
candle,  and  this  substitution  of  God  him- 
self as  the  source  of  illumination,  indi- 
cates an  amazing  change  in  the  mode 
of  acquiring  knowledge.  In  another 
verse  of  the  description  of  the  New  Je- 
rusalem, you  have  the  assertion  of  a 
similar  absence,  and  of  a  similar  substitu- 
tion. "  I  saw  no  temple  therein  :  for 
the  Lord  God  Almighty  and  the  Lamb 
are  the  temple  of  it."  There  is  to  be 
no  need  hereafter  of  those  ordinances, 
those  ministrations,  those  sacraments, 
through  which  as  channels,  God  is  here 
])leased  to  communicate  grace  ;  the  saints 
shall  be  privileged  with  direct  and  open 
intercourse :  they  shall  be  environed 
with  manifestations  of  Deity  ;  these  shall 
be  their  sanctuary ;  and  having  thus  ac- 
cess to  God  and  the  Lamb,  they  will  no 
longer  require  the  rites  and  institutions 
of  an  earthly  dispensation.  We  suppose 
this  to  be  what  is  indicated  by  the  fact 
that  God  will  be  the  temple  of  the 
heavenly  city,  though  the  fact  itself  far 
exceeds  our  comprehension.  A  temple, 
budded  of  Godhead,  its  walls  his  attri- 
butes, its  roof  his  majesty,  its  gates  his 
eternity  !  And  to  worship  in  this  temple, 
to  live  in  this  temple,  to  worship  God 
in  God  !  there  is  a  wonderfulness  hero 
which  is  not  to  be  overtaken  by  all  our 
strivings  ;  fi)r  who  can  imagine  to  him- 
self the  evetlastinor  Creator  condescend- 

o 

ing  to  become  as  a  sanctuary  to  the 
children  of  men,  the  gorgeous  cathedral 
into  whose  recesses  they  may  penetrate, 
and  at  whose  altars  they  may  do  homage  1 
We  can  feel,  O  God,  that  the  universe 
is  thy  temple  ;  we  are  overwhelmed  by 
the  thought,  that  thou  thyself  wilt  be 
the  temple  of  the  universe! 

And  we  suppose;   that  just  the  same 
truth  is    again   indicated    by   St.    Paul, 


HEAVEN. 


387 


when,  in  writing  to  the  Corinthians,  he 
draws  a  contrast  between  our  present 
and  our  future  state  of  being.  "  Now 
we  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then 
face  to  face:  now  I  know  in  part,  but 
then  shall  I  know  even  as  also  I  am 
known."  We  refer  especially  to  the 
first  part  of  this  contrast,  in  which  the 
comparison  lies  between  the  modes  in 
which  knowledge  is  to  be  acquired. 
He  affirms  that,  in  this  world,  we  see  only 
"  through  a  glass,  darkly,"  or  as  it  is  in 
the  original,  in  a  riddle,  or  enigma.  We 
behold  nothing  but  the  image  of  God, 
as  reflected  from  his  works  or  dealings, 
which  serve  as  so  many  glasses  or 
mirrors.  But  hereafter  we  are  to  behold 
God  "  face  to  face  ;"  not,  that  is,  by  re- 
flected rays,  but  by  direct ;  not  as  in  a 
mirror,  but  by  open  vision,  standing  in 
his  presence,  and  gazing,  as  it  were, 
on  his  countenance.  And  it  must  be 
the  drift  of  these  various  representations, 
that  we  are  hereafter  to  be  admitted 
into  such  communion  or  intercourse,  that 
there  will  be  no  need  of  any  of  those  in- 
termediate appointments  through  which 
we  are  now  brought  into  acquaintance 
with  God.  The  whole  apparatus  of 
mirror,  and  temple,  and  sun,  will  be 
taken  away,  because  we  shall  be  admitted 
to  the  beatific  vision,  to  all  those  imme- 
diate manifestations  of  Deity  which  are 
vouchsafed  to  the  angel  or  the  archangel. 
We  know  not  what  these  may  be.  We 
will  not  even  dare  to  conjecture  what  it 
is  to  behold  God  "  face  to  face  ;"  for 
we  remember  that  there  must  always  be 
an  untravelled  separation  between  the 
infinite  Being  and  all  finite  :  and  that  we 
may  not  therefore  doubt,  that  even  in 
the  most  intimate  revelation  of  himself, 
God  majestically  hides  the  wonders  of 
his  nature.  Yet  we  may  be  sure  that 
discoveries  are  vouchsafed  in  heavenly 
places,  which  throw  into  the  shade  the 
richest  that  can  be  obtained  upon  earth; 
and  that,  whatever  the  degree  or  sense 
in  which  a  created  intelligence  can  look 
upon  the  imcreated,  in  that  it  will  be 
permitted  to  us  to  behold  "  the  King  im- 
mortal, invisible." 

And  this  marks  a  sublime,  though  an 
inconceivable  change  in  our  powers  and 
privileges.  I  am  wonderfully  struck  by 
this  abstraction  of  the  material  sun  from 
our  firmament,  and  this  making  God 
himself  the  immediate  source  of  our 
light,  though  I  can  hardly  give  consist- 


ency or  shape  to  the  struggling  thoughts 
which  the  imagery  excites.  Imagine, 
but  you  cannot  imagine ;  and  what  is 
language  to  do  when  even  imagination 
is  at  fault  1  yet  make  an  effort ;  think  of 
the  sudden  quenching  of  that  luminary 
which  now  daily  "  comelh  forth  as  a 
bridegroom  from  his  chamber,  and  re- 
joiceth  as  a  strong  man  to  run  a  race ;" 
but  this  extinction  of  the  sun  not  followed 
but  by  irradiations  such  as  have  never 
yet  fallen  on  this  earth.  It  is  a  glorious 
thing  now,  when  the  golden  beams  of 
day  flood  the  canopy  of  heaven,  and 
forest,  and  mountain,  and  river,  are 
beautiful  with  light.  Glorious  is  it,  yea, 
and  very  demonstrative  of  Deity,  when 
the  whole  creation  wakes  up  at  the  sum- 
mons of  the  morning,  as  though  the 
trumpet  had  sounded,  and  the  vast  grave 
of  night  were  giving  back  the  cities  and 
the  solitudes  which  had  gone  down  into 
its  recesses.  But  now  we  are  to  have 
no  sun ;  the  hand  of  the  Almighty  hath 
quenched  it ;  and  nevertheless  we  are 
not  encompassed  with  the  shadows  of 
the  evening,  but,  on  the  contj-ary,  dazzled 
with  a  radiance  immeasurably  sui-passing 
that  of  the  noontide.  In  place  of  a  firma- 
ment, lit  up  by  the  shinings  of  a  material 
body,  we  have  the  infinite  vault  converted 
into  one  brilliant  manifestation  of  God- 
head;  the  splendid  coruscations  of  righ- 
teousness, and  truth,  and  justice,  and 
loving-kindness,  weaving  themselves  to- 
gether to  form  the  arch;  and  the  burning 
brightness  of  Him  who  cannot  "  look 
on  iniquity,"  glancing  to  and  fro  like  the 
lightning,  though  not  to  scathe,  but  only 
to  illuminate.  What  think  you  of  living 
beneath  such  a  canopy  ]  What  think  you 
of  having  divinity,  in  all  the  blaze  of  his 
atti'ibutes,  thus  glowing  throughout  im- 
measurable space,  and  pouring  his  own 
lustre  on  every  object  in  creation,  so  that 
the  universe  would  be  nothing  but  the 
one  shining  forth  of  Godhead  ;  and  each 
star,  each  leaf,  each  water-drop,  be  but  as 
a  spark  from  those  eyes  which  St.  John 
saith,  "were  as  a  flame  of  firel"  O 
Persians,  thy  superstition  has  become 
truth;  we  are  not  idolaters,  and  yet 
may  now  worship  the  sun. 

And  though  this  is  but  treating  our 
text,  as  if  the  change  which  it  indicates 
were  to  be  literally  understood,  it  may 
help  us  to  the  forming  some  idea  ot 
what  is  intended,  when  light  is  takelf 
metaphorically,  as  here  put  for  know- 


388 


HEATEN. 


ledge.  The  change  appears  to  mark, 
as  we  have  already  intimated,  the  re- 
moval of  all  that  instrumentality  which 
has  been  constructed  and  employed  for  I 
the  bringing  us  into  some  degree  of  ac- 1 
quaintance  with  God,  as  though  we  had  j 
grown  into  manhood,  and  could  dispense  : 
with  the  processes  and  restraints  of  our  ■ 
early  education.  At  present  we  cannot 
see  God  :  we  can  only  study  his  works 
and  ways,  and  gather  from  them  inade- 
quate notions  of  his  character  and  at- 
tributes, liut  hci-eafter  so  strengthened 
will  be  ourfaculties,  so  enlarged  ourcapa- 
cities,  and  so  exalted  our  place  amongst 
orders  of  creation,  that  God  will  be 
visible  to  us  in  such  sense'as  he  is  visible 
to  any  finite  beings;  not  in  dim  shadow, 
and  mystic  type,  and  material  represen- 
tation, but  in  the  splendor,  the  spiritu- 
ality, the  immenseness,  the  eternity  of 
Deity.  We  shall  enter  the  presence- 
chamber  of  Godhead — for  a  presence- 
chamber  unquestionaby  there  is,  some 
scene  in  which  He  wlio  is  eveiy  where, 
whom  "  the  heaven  of  heavens  cannot  con- 
tain," the  inhabitant  of  all  space  as  of  all 
time,  unveils  his  stupendousness,  and 
shows  himself  "  as  he  is"  to  the  glorious 
throng  of  worshipping  spirits.  In  this 
thn)ng  we  sliall  have  place ;  in  this 
presence-chamber  we  shall  be  privileged 
to  stand.  And  who  can  fail  to  perceive 
that  there  is  hereby  indicated  an  amazing 
change  as  to  the  mode  of  acquiring 
knowledge  1  I  am  no  longer  to  be 
taught  through  any  intermediate  agency. 
I  am  no  longer  to  be  taught  through 
laborious  processes  of  study  and  research. 
I  am  to  behold  God,  so  far  as  the  Creator 
can  be  beheld  by  a  creature.  I  am  tt) 
learn  from  actual  inspection,  the  mind 
having  tlie  powers  of  the  eye,  so  that 
the  understanding  shall  gather  in  the 
magnificence  of  truth,  with  the  same 
facility  as  the  organ  of  sense  the  beauties 
of  a  landscape.  There  will  be  no  dis- 
tance betuL'on  ourselves  and  the  objects 
of  contemplation,  no  turning  away  of  the 
mind  liom  what  is  worthy  its  attentioJ) ; 
but  so  strong  will  be  our  propensity  to 
truth,  and  so  immediate  our  ])erceptions, 
that  wc  shall  be  always  gazing  on  some 
one  of  its  mighty  develt>|)ment.s,  and  be 
no  more  liable  to  mistake  or  misjippie- 
hension  than  tlie  man  vvhnse  eye  is  his 
informant,  and  who  has  to  believe  only 
what  he  beholds. 

''  'J'hey  need  no  candle."     Creation, 


with  all  thy  bright  wonders,  I  ask  no 
longer  the  torch  with  which  thou  hast 
furnished  me  in  my  searchings  after 
God:  God  himself  is  before  me;  and 
what  further  need  can  I  have  of  thine 
aids  ?  Ordinances  of  grace,  at  which  I 
have  here  trimmed  the  lamp  of  faith,  ye 
are  no  longer  requisite;  faith  itself  ia 
lost  in  vision,  and  I  want  not  the  instru- 
mentality through  which  it  was  kept 
burning.  Even  the  mediatorial  office, 
through  which  is  now  derived  whatever 
most  tends  to  illuminate  the  understand- 
ing and  warm  the  heart,  will  no  longer  be 
needed  :  Christ  who  is  emphatically  "  the 
Sun  of  righteousness,"  is  to  "deliver  up 
the  kingdom  to  God,  even  the  Father;" 
its  designs  being  all  completed,  its  ends 
all  answered  ;  for  when  we  stand  face 
to  face  with  God,  what  further  use  will 
there  be  for  those  channels  through 
which  we  have  now  to  seek  access  1 

"  They  need  no  candle,"  nay,  they 
need  not  even  "  the  light  of  the  sun." 
"  The  Lord  God  giveth  them  light ;"  is 
not  this  to  say  that  the  Lord  God  giveth 
them  himself?  for  you  will  remember 
what  is  affirmed  by  St.  John,  "  This  then 
is  the  message  which  we  have  heard  of 
him,  and  declare  unto  you,  that  God  is 
light,  and  in  him  is  no  darkness  at  all." 
And  therefore  God  in  some  incffiible  way, 
is  to  communicate  himself  to  the  soul. 
There  will  probably  be  a  communication 
of  ideas:*  God  will  substitute  his  ideas, 
great,  noble,  luminous,  for  our  own, 
contracted,  confused,  obscure;  and  we 
shall  become  like  him,  in  our  measure, 
though  participating  his  knowledge. 
There  will  be  a  communication  of  excel- 
lences :  God  will  so  vividly  impress  his 
image  upon  us,  that  we  shall  be  holy 
even  as  he  is  holy.  There  will  be  a 
communication  of  happiness  :  God  will 
cause  us  to  be  happy  in  the  very  way  in 
which  he  is  happy  himself,  making  what 
constitutes  his  felicity  to  constitute  ours, 
so  that  we  shall  be  like  him  in  the 
sources  or  springs  of  enjoyment.  All 
this  seems  included  in  the  saying  that 
the  Lord  God  is  to  give  us  light.  And 
though  we  feel  that  we  are  but  laboring 
to  describe,  by  all  this  accumulation  of 
expression,  what  must  be  experienced 
before  it  can  be  understood,  we  may  yet 
hope  that  you  have  caught  something  of 
the  grandeur  of  the  thought,  that  God 

•  Sauriu. 


HEAVEN. 


389 


himself  is  to  be  to  us  hereafter  what  the 
sun  in  the  firmament  is  to  us  here.  We 
wish  you  to  give,  if  possible,  something 
of  definiteness  to  the  thought,  by  observ- 
ing what  an  enlargement  it  supposes  of 
all  the  powers  of  our  nature ;  for  now 
it  would  consume  us  to  be  brought  into 
intimate  intercourse  with  God  ;  we  must 
have  the  sun,  we  must  have  the  candle ; 
our  faculties  are  not  adapted  to  the 
living  in  his  presence,  where  there  is  no 
veil  upon  his  lustres.  Hence  we  have 
in  the  figurative  sketch  of  our  text,  in 
the  part  which  makes  God  the  source  of 
all  illumination,  as  well  as  in  that  which 
asserts  the  absence  of  night,  a  represen- 
tation of  man  as  nobly  elevated  amongst 
orders  of  being,  and  of  the  sublimest 
knowledge  as  thrown  open  to  his  search. 
Man  is  elevated  ;  for  he  has  passed  from 
the  ordinances  and  institutions  of  an  in- 
troductory state,  to  the  open  vision  and 
free  communion  of  spirits  who  never 
Bullied  their  immortality.  The  sublimest 
knowledge  is  made  accessible  ;  for  with 
God  for  his  sun,  into  what  depths  can 
he  penetrate,  and  not  find  fresh  truths  1 
with  God  as  his  temple,  along  what  aisle 
of  the  stupendous  edifice  can  he  pass, 
and  not  collect  from  every  column,  and 
every  arch,  majestic  discoveries?  where 
can  he  stand,  and  not  hear  the  pervading 
spirit  of  the  sanctuary  bx'eathing  out 
secrets  which  he  had  vainly  striven  to 
explore,  and  wonders  which  he  had  not 
dared  to  conjecture]  And  thus,  if  it  be 
a  blessed  thing  to  know  that  hereafter, 
set  free  from  all  the  trainings  of  an 
elementary  dispensation,  we  shall  take 
our  place,  in  the  beauty  and  might  of 
our  manhood,  amongst  the  nobles  of 
creation  ;  that  gifted  with  capacities,  and 
privileged  with  opportunities,  for  deri- 
ving from  immediate  contact  with  Deity 
acquaintance  with  all  that  is  illustrious 
in  the  universe,  we  shall  no  longer  need 
those  means  and  agencies,  whether  of 
nature  or  grace,  which,  whilst  they 
strengthen  and  inform,  prove  us  not 
made  perfect — yea,  if  it  be  a  blessed 
thing  to  know  this,  it  is  also  a  blessed 
thing  to  hear  that  there  shall  be  no 
candle,  no  sun,  in  the  heavenly  Jerusa- 
lem. The  substitution  of  God  himself 
for  every  present  source  of  light,  is 
among  the  most  energetic  representations 
of  a  change,  which  lifts  man  into  dignity, 
and  gives  the  heights  and  depths  to  his 
survey ;  and  1  feel  therefore,  that  so  far 


as  the  ripening  of  our  powers  is  con- 
cerned, or  the  moral  splendor  of  our 
heritage,  or  the  freedom  of  our  expia- 
tions, description  has  well  nigh  ex- 
hausted itself  in  the  announcement  of 
the  Evangelist,  that  the  inhabitants  of 
the  new  Jerusalem  "  need  no  candle, 
neither  light  of  the  sun  ;  for  the  Lord 
God  giveth  them  light." 

We  v/ould  observe  to  you  here,  though 
we  have  partly  anticipated  the  statement, 
that  the  expression,  "  the  Lord  God 
giveth  them  light,"  seems  to  indicate 
that  our  future  state,  hke  our  present, 
will  be  progressive  :  there  is  to  be  a 
continued  communication  of  light,  or  of 
knowledge,  so  that  the  assertion  of 
Solomon,  "  The  path  of  the  just  is  as 
the  shining  light  that  shineth  more  and 
more  unto  the  perfect  day,"  may  be  as 
true  hereafter  as  here.  This  might  be 
gathered  from  what  has  been  advanced 
under  our  first  head  of  discourse,  but  it 
deserves  to  be  more  explicitly  asserted. 
Whatever  may  be  the  attainments  of  the 
just  man  whilst  on  earth,  he  sees  only, 
according  to  the  words  already  quoted, 
"  through  a  glass,  darkly."  How  much 
of  what  he  acknowledges  as  truth  is 
profoundly  mysterious  !  what  difficulties 
throng  great  portions  of  Scripture  !  how 
dark  the  dispensations  of  Providence ! 
what  subject  for  implicit  faith  in  the 
workings  of  God's  moral  government ! 
With  St.  Paul  he  is  often  forced  to  ex- 
claim, when  musing  on  the  Almighty 
and  his  dealings,  "  how  unsearchable 
are  his  judgments,  and  his  ways  past 
finding  out."  But  he  has  yet  to  pass 
into  a  scene  of  greater  light,  and  to  read, 
in  the  opened  volume  of  God's  purposes, 
the  explanation  of  difficulties,  the  wis- 
dom of  appointments,  the  nice  propor- 
tions of  truth.  And  assuredly  do  we 
believe  that  then  shall  there  break  on 
him  mighty  and  ever  amplifying  views 
of  all  that  is  august  in  the  nature  of 
God,  and  wonderful  in  his  works.  Then 
shall  the  divine  attributes  rise  before 
him,  unsearchable  indeed  and  unlimited, 
but  ever  discovering  more  of  their  stu- 
pendousness,  their  beauty,  their  harmony. 
Then  shall  the  mystic  figures  of  pro- 
phecy, which  here  have  crossed  his  path 
only  as  the  shadows  of  far-off  events, 
take  each  its  place  in  accomplished 
plans,  schemed  and  willed  by  the  ever- 
lasting mind.  Then  shall  redemption 
throw  open  before  him  its  untravelled 


390 


HEAVEN. 


amplitudo,  and  allow  of  bis  tracing  those 
unnumbered    ramifications    which     the 
cross,  erected  on  this  glube,  may  possibly 
be  sending  to  all  the  outsliirts  of  immen- 
sity.    Then  shall  the  several  occurrences 
of    his    life,    tlie    dark    things    and    the 
bright  which  chequered  his  path,  appear 
equally  necessary,  equally  merciful;  and 
doubt  give  place  to  adoring  reverence, 
as  the  problem  is  cleared  up  of  oppressed 
righteousness     and     successful     villany. 
But  it   shall   not  be  instantaneous,  this 
reaping  down  the  vast  harvest  of  know- 
ledge, this  ingathering  of  what  we  may 
call    the    sheaves  of  light,   seeing  that 
"  light,"  according  to  the  Psalmist,  "  is 
sown  for  the  righteous."     It  must  con- 
tinue whilst  being  continues  :  for  if  the 
mysteries  of  time  wei-e  exhausted,  and 
redemption    presented    no    unexplored 
district,  God  would  remain  infinite  as  at 
the  first,  as  sublime  in  his  inscrutableness 
as  though   ages  had  not  been  given  to 
the  searching   out  his  wonders.     It  is 
said  by  St.   Paul  of  the  love  of  Clirist, 
and,  if  of  the  love,  then  necessarily  also 
of  him  whose  love  it  is,  that  it  "  passeth 
knowledge."     But  if  never  to  be  over- 
taken, it  shall   always  be  pursued ;  and 
we  gather  from  the  expression  of  our 
text,  an  expression  which  clearly  marks 
progressiveness,  that  the  just  man  will 
continually  be  admitted  to  richer    and 
richer  discoveries  of  God  and  of  Christ, 
so  that  eternity  will  be  spent  in  journey- 
ing through  that  temple,  which  we  have 
already  described  as  the  Almighty  him- 
self, from  whose  innermost  shrine,  though 
always  inapproachable,  shall  Hash,  as  lie 
advances,  the  deeper   and  deeper  efful- 
gence of  Deity,     Ay,  and  if  knowledge 
be  thus    progressive,  so   also  shall  love 
be,  and  so  also    happiness.     In   giving 
light,  the  sun  gives   also   heat.     It  can- 
not be   that  the  just  man    should  thus 
travel  into  the  perfections  of  his  Creator 
and  Redeemer,   and  not   admire  more, 
and     adore    more,    and    bound    with    a 
greater  ccstacy.  As  fast  as  obscure  things 
are  illuminated,  and  difiicult  made  in- 
telligible, and  contradictory  reconciled, 
and    magnificent  unfolded,  there  will  be 
a  fresh  falling  down  before  the  throne,  a 
fresh  ascription  of  praise,  a  fresh  burst 
of  rapture.     The   voice  which    is  to   bo 
from    the  first  "  as  the  voice    of  many 
waters,    and    as    tlie   voic^e    of  a    great 
thunder,"  shall  grow  louder  and  louder — 
each  manifestation   of  Deity   adding  a 


new  wave  to  the  many  waters,  a  new 
peal  to  the  great  thunder.  The  anthera 
which  is  to  ascribe  worthiness  for  ever 
and  ever  to  the  Lamb,  though  always 
rushing  as  a  torrent  of  melody,  seeing 
that  it  is  to  issue  from  "  ten  thousand  times 
ten  thousand,  and  thousands  of  thou- 
sands :" — what  an  orchestra !  who  would 
not  hear,  who  would  not  swell  the  roll 
of  this  music  1 — shall  not  be  always  of 
equal  strength  ;  for  as  the  Lamb  dis- 
closes to  his  church  more  and  more  of 
his  amazing  achievement,  and  opens  new 
tracts  of  the  consequences  of  the  atone- 
ment, and  exhibits,  under Tnore  endearing 
and  overcoming  aspects,  the  love  which 
moved  him,  and  the  sorrows  which  beset 
him,  and  the  triumphs  which  attended 
him  ;  we  believe  that  the  hearts  of  the 
redeemed  will  beat  with  a  higher  pulse 
of  devotion,  and  their  harps  be  swept 
with  a  bolder  hand,  and  their  tongues 
send  forth  a  mightier  chorus.  Thus 
will  the  just  proceed  from  strength  to 
strength ;  knowledge,  and  love,  and 
holiness,  and  joy,  being  always  on  the 
increase ;  and  eternity  one  glorious 
morning,  with  the  sun  ever  chmbing 
higher  and  higher;  one  blessed  spring- 
time, and  yet  rich  summer,  every  plant 
in  full  flower,  but  every  flower  the  bud 
of  a  lovelier. 

Ah,  my  brethren,  you  will  tell  us  that 
we  are  but  "darkening  counsel  by  the 
multitude  of  words ;"  that  we  are  in  fact 
only  reiterating  the  same  statements  ; 
and  that,  in  place  of  describing  heaven, 
we  still  leave  it  to  be  described.  We 
plead  guilty  to  the  charge :  in  our 
eagerness  to  convey  to  you  some  idea 
of  heaven,  it  is  likely  that  we  have 
fallen  into  repetitions;  and  vvc  have  too 
lofty  thoughts  of  the  future  to  suppose 
for  an  instant  that  our  descriptions 
could  be  adequate.  But  pause  for  a 
moment :  our  great  object  in  attempting 
description  is  to  animate  you  to  the 
seeking  possession :  admit  then  that  de- 
scription is  at  fault,  and  we  may  yet  uigo 
you  by  the  iiidescribableness  of  heaven. 
Yes,  by  the  indescribableness  of  heaven. 
What  had  St.  Paul  to  say,  when  ho 
returned  from  the  third  heaven,  into 
which  he  had  been  mysteriously  trans- 
lated I  Nothing,  absolutely  nothing ; 
"  he  heard  unspeakable  words,  which 
it  is  not  lawful,  or  not  possible,  for  a 
man  to  uttei'."  And  are  you  disappoint- 
ed that  the  great  Apostle  has  nothing  to 


391 


communicate  ]  He  gives  you  the  most 
animating  description,  in  assuring  you 
that  heaven  is  not  to  be  described.  It 
would  be  but  a  poor  heaven  which  such 
beings  as  ourselves  could  comprehend 
or  anticipate.  Give  me  the  majestic 
cloud,  the  oracular  veil,  the  mighty 
shadows  which  recede  as  we  advance, 
filling  the  mind  with  amazement,  but  fur- 
bidding  us  to  approach  and  examine  what 
they  are.  I  wish  to  be  defeated  in  every 
effort  to  understand  futurity.  I  wish, 
when  I  have  climbed  to  the  highest 
pinnacle  to  which  thought  can  soar,  to 
be  compelled  to  confess  that  I  have  not 
yet  reached  the  base  of  the  everlasting 
hills.  There  is  something  surpassingly 
glorious  in  this  baffling  of  the  imagina- 
tion. It  is  vain  that  I  task  myself  to 
conceive  of  heaven,  but  it  is  a  noble 
truth  that  it  is  vain.  That  heaven  is  in- 
conceivable, is  the  most  august,  the  most 
elevating  discovery.  It  tells  me  that  I 
have  not  yet  the  power  for  enjoying 
heaven  :  but  this  is  only  to  tell  me,  that 
the  beholding  God  "face  to  face,"  the 
being  "  fur  ever  with  the  Lord,"  requires 
the  exaltation  of  my  nature ;  and  I 
triumph  in  the  assurance  that  what  is 
reserved  for  me,  presupposes  my  vast 
advancement  in  the  scale  of  creation.  If 
we  would  have  sublime  notions  of  a 
glorified  man,  of  the  station  which  he 
occupies,  of  the  faculties  which  he 
possesses,  they  must  be  the  notions 
which  are  gained  by  ineffectual  efforts 
to  represent  and  delineate :  the  splen- 
dor which  dazzles  so  that  we  cannot 
look,  the  immenseness  which  we  cannot 
grasp,  the  energies  for  which  there 
are  no  terms  in  human  speech,  these 
give  our  best  images  of  heaven.  If 
I  dare  rate  one  portion  of  Scripture 
above  another,  I  prefer  the  lecord  of' 
the  vision  of  St.  Paul  to  that  of  the  visions 
of  St.  John.  Wonderful  indeed  were 
the  manifestations  vouchsafed  to  the 
exile  in  Patmos.  The  spirit  of  the 
coldest  must  glow  as  the  beloved  disciple 
delineates  what  he  saw,  the  tree  of  life, 
the  crystal  river,  the  white-robed  multi- 
tude, the  glittering  city.  But  the  attempt 
to  describe  seems  to  assume  the  possi- 
bility of  description  :  and  to  prove  to 
me  that  heaven  might  be  described, 
would  be  to  pi'ove  to  me  that  its  glory 
was  not  transcendent,  its  felicity  not  un- 
bounded. And  therefore,  I  am  more 
moved  by  the  silence  of  St.  Paul  than 


by  the  poetry  of  St.  John.  The  truth 
is,  that  St.  Paul  was  more  favored  than 
St.  John.  St.  John  remained  on  earth  : 
he  was  not  caught  up  into  paradise : 
and  the  gorgeous  trains  which  swept  by 
him  in  his  ecstacy  or  trance,  were  so 
constructed  and  clothed  as  to  be  adapted 
to  a  human  comprehension.  But  St. 
Paul  saw  the  reality  of  heaven,  not  in 
figure,  not  in  type,  but  heaven  as  it 
actually  is,  heaven  as  it  will  appear  to 
the  righteous,  when  admitted  to  behold 
"  the  King  in  his  beauty."  And  hence 
it  is  not  strange  that  St.  Paul  must  be 
silent,  though  St.  John  had  marvel  "upon 
marvel  to  relate.  I  turn  from  the  one  to 
the  other  :  and  though  fascinated  by  the 
spectacle  of  a  city  whose  "  foundations 
were  garnished  with  all  manner  of  pre- 
cious stones,"  where  pain  never  enters, 
and  whose  temple  is  the  Lord  God 
Almighty,  I  learn  more,  and  I  grow 
more  hopeful,  and  I  am  more  thronged 
by  the  glories  of  the  future,  when  I  find 
St.  Paul  declaring  that  he  had  heard 
unspeakable  words.  ♦'  The  things  which 
God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love 
him,"  are  things  which  the  eye  hath 
not  seen,  nor  the  ear  heard,  nor  the 
human  heart  conceived  :  but  faith  and 
hope  may  both  be  strengthened  by  this 
very  impossibility  of  our  forming  just 
ideas  of  heaven  :  it  is  the  loftiness  of  the 
mountain  which  causes  it  to  be  lost  in 
the  clouds :  we  may  therefore  animate 
ourselves  by  the  thought,  that  thought 
itself  cannot  measure  our  everlasting 
portion,  and  be  all  the  more  cheered 
when  we  find  that  even  description  gives 
no  distinct  picture,  but  that  we  plunge 
into  darkness  when  striving  to  penetrate 
all  the  meaning  of  the  sayings,  "  There 
shall  be  no  night  there,  and  they  need 
no  candle,  neither  light  of  the  sun;  for 
the  Lord  God  giveth  them  light." 

But  there  is  yet  a  clause  of  the  text 
to  which  we  have  given  no  attention, 
though  it  susrcrests  as  noble  thoughts  as 
any  of  the  preceding,  in  reference  to 
our  everlasting  state.  "  And  they  shall 
reign  for  ever  and  ever" — "they  shall 
be  kings  for  ever  and  ever."  Wondex'- 
ful  assertion  !  wonderful,  because  made 
of  beings  apparently  insignificant,  beings 
of  whom  the  Psalmist,  after  surveying 
the  magnificence  of  the  heavens,  was 
forced  to  exclaim,  "  Lcnxl,  what  is  man, 
that  thou  art  mindful  of  him  1  or  the  son 
of  man,  that  thou  visitest  him  1 "     Yes, 


392 


HEAVEN. 


of  US,  who  are  by  nature  "  children  of 
wrath,"  of  ns,  who  are  "  born  to  trouble 
as  the  sparks  fly  upwards,"  even  of  us 
is  it  said,  "  They  shall  be  kings  for  ever 
and  ever."  And  you  are  aware  that  this 
is  not  a  solitary  expression,  but  that  the 
ascription  of  reiral  power  to  the  saints 
is  common  in  Scripture,  and  especially 
in  the  book  of  Revelation.  Our  Lord 
himself  promised  to  his  apostles,  that, 
"in  the  regeiieration "  they  should  "sit 
on  twelve  thrones,  judging  the  twelve 
tribes  of  Israel."  "  If  we  suffer  with 
him,"  exclaims  St.  Paul,  in  reference  to 
the  Redeemer,  "  we  shall  also  reign  with 
him."  St.  John  ascribes  glory  and  do- 
minion "  unto  Him  that  loved  us,  and 
washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own 
blood,  and  hath  made  us  kings  and  priests 
unto  God  and  his  Father."  And  the 
famous  prophecy  of  the  first  resurrection 
will  naturally  occur  to  you,  in  which  it 
is  declared  of  the  witnesses  for  the 
Mediator,  that  "they  lived  and  reigned 
with  Christ  a  thousand  years."  Un- 
doubtedly this  last  prediction,  however 
interpreted,  must  have  reference  to  the 
period  of  the  millennium,  during  which 
Christ  is  to  take  visibly  on  himself  the 
sovereignty  of  the  earth,  having  erected 
his  throne  on  the  wreck  of  all  human 
empire.  What  offices  the  saints  are  to 
have  throughout  this  millennial  reign  we 
pretend  not  to  conjecture,  much  less  to 
decide.  Suffice  it  that  they  are  evi- 
dently to  participate  the  triumph  of 
their  Lord,  and  perhaps  to  have  sway 
under  him,  one  over  ten  cities,  another 
over  five,  according  to  the  number  and 
improvement  of  their  talents.  But  it  is 
not  to  the  millennium  that  our  text  re- 
fers :  we  have  already  said  that  it  re- 
lates to  what  will  succeed  the  general 
judgment,  and,  therefore,  to  that  condi- 
tion of  the  redeemed  which  will  be  final 
and  permanent. 

And  on  what  thrones  shall  we  sit  in 
heaven  1  over  whom  shall  we  be  invest- 
ed with  dominion  1  Let  it  be  remem- 
bered that  the  mediatorial  kingdom  will 
have  terminated.  The  Son  himself  hav- 
ing become  "subject  to  Him  that  put 
all  things  under  Him."  We  cannot 
therefore  retain  any  such  sway  as  the 
saints  may  be  supposed  to  have  possess- 
ed throughout  the  millennium  :  the  whole 
economy  will  be  changed;  (iod  himself 
will  bo  "  all  in  all ;"  and  the  aff'airs  of 
the  universe  will  no  longer  be  transacted 


through  Christ  in  his  glorified  humanity. 
And,  nevertheless,  "  they  shall  reign, 
they  shall  be  kings,  for  ever  and  ever." 
They  shall  reign,  v.hilst  they  serve  God  ; 
they  shall  be  kings,  whilst  they  are  sub- 
jects. We  know  not  whether  this  may 
be  intended  to  denote  that  the  saints 
shall  have  authority,  or  principality,  over 
other  orders  of  being.  It  may  be  so. 
I  have  the  highest  possible  thoughts  in 
regard  of  the  future  dignity  of  man.  I 
believe  not  that  he  will  be  second  to 
any  but  God.  I  would  not  change  his 
place,  I  would  not  barter  his  crown,  for 
that  of  the  noblest,  the  first,  amongst 
the  angels  of  heaven.  For  no  nature 
has  been  brought  into  so  intimate  a  rela- 
tion to  the  divine  as  the  human  :  God 
has  become  man,  and  man  therefore,  we 
believe,  must  stand  nearest  to  God.  It 
may  then  be,  seeing  that,  beyond  ques- 
tion, there  will  be  order  through  etei'iiity, 
a  gradation  of  ranks,  a  distribution  of 
authority,  that  the  saints  will  be  as 
princes  in  the  kingdom  of  God ;  that 
through  them  will  the  Almighty  be 
pleased  to  carry  on  much  of  his  govern- 
ment ;  and  that  angels,  who  are  "minister- 
ing spirits  "  to  them  during  their  mo- 
ments of  probation,  will  attend  them  as 
their  messengers  during  their  ages  of 
triumph.  "  Know  ye  not,"  asks  St.  Paul 
of  the  Corinthians,  "  that  we  shall  judge 
angels  ] "  and  if  we  are  to  sit  in  assize 
on  the  evil  angels,  it  may  be  that  we 
shall  be  invested  with  royalty  over  the 
good. 

But  let  this  pass  :  if  not  over  angels, 
I  can  yet  see  much  over  which,  if  I  gain 
entrance  into  heaven,  I  shall  "  reign  for 
ever  and  ever."  I  connect  the  different 
parts  of  the  verse;  and  I  read  in  its  last 
clause,  only  differently  expressed,  the 
same  promise,  or  prophecy,  which  I 
find  in  all  the  rest.  I  shall  reign  over 
the  secrets  of  nature:  all  the  workman- 
ship of  God  shall  be  subject  to  me,  open- 
ing to  me  its  recesses,  and  admitting'  mo 
into  its  marvels.  I  shall  reign  over  the 
secrets  of  Providence  ;  my  empire  shall 
gather  back  the  past,  and  anticipate  the 
future  ;  and  all  the  dealings  of  my  Maker 
shall  range  themselves  in  perfect  harmo- 
ny before  my  view.  I  shall  reign  over 
the  secrets  if  grace  ;  the  mediatorial 
work  shall  be  as  a  province  subject  to  my 
rule,  containing  no  spot  in  all  its  spread- 
ings  which  I  may  not  explore.  1  shall 
reign  over  myself:  I  shall  be  thorough 


HEAVEN. 


393 


master  of  myself :  no  unruly  desires,  no 
undisciplined  affections  :  I  shall  not  be, 
■what  an  earthly  king  often  is,  his  own 
base  slave  :  no  war  between  the  flesh 
and  the  spirit,  no  rebellion  of  the  will,  no 
struggle  of  corrupt  inclinations ;  but 
vi'ith  all  that  true  royalty,  the  royalty 
of  perfect  holiness,  I  shall  serve  God 
without  wavering,  and  find  his  service 
to  be  sovereignity, 

G  lorious  empire !  what  can  animate  us, 
if  a  prospect  such  as  this  move  us  not 
to  the  "  laying  aside  every  weight,  and  the 
sin  which  doth  so  easily  beset  us  V 
Nevertheless,  let  us  see  to  it  that  we  do 
not  conclude  ourselves  on  the  high  road 
to  the  celestial  city,  just  because  wo 
have  some  tastes  and  feelings  to  which 
we  expect  to  find  there  the  counterpart 
objects.  We  must  warn  you  against 
mistaking  an  intellectual  for  a  spiritual 
longing,  the  wish  to  enter  heaven  be- 
cause there  "  we  shall  know  even  as  we 
are  known,"  for  the  wish  to  enter  it  be- 
cause God  himself  will  there  be  "  all  in 
all."  I  am  sure  that  many  a  man,  in 
whose  heart  is  no  love  of  the  Creator 
and  Redeemer,  might  pant  for  a  state  in 
which  he  shall  no  longer  see  darkly 
through  a  glass,  but  have  full  sway  over 
universal  truth.  The  mind  may  strug- 
gle for  emancipation,  and  crave  a  broad- 
er field,  whilst  the  soul  is  the  bondslave 
of  Satan,  and  has  no  wish  to  throw  away 
her  chains.  Ah,  it  is  just  as  easy  to 
dress  up  an  intellectual  paradise  as  a 
carnal,  and  to  desire  the  one,  as  well  as 
the  other,  without  acquiring  any  meet- 
ness  "  for  the  inhei'itance  of  the  saints 
in  light."  The  heaven  of  the  moham- 
medan  is  full  of  all  that  can  gratify  the 
senses,  and  pamper  the  appetites.  The 
heaven  of  the  philosopher  may  be  a 
scene  in  which  mind  is  to  reach  all  its 
vigor,  and  science  all  its  majesty.  But 
neither  is  the  heaven  of  the  christian. 
The  heaven  for  which  the  christian  longs, 
is  the  place  in  which  God  himself  shall 
be  his  "  strength  and  his  portion  for 
ever."  The  knowledge,  whose  increase 
he  ardently  wishes,  is  knowledge  of  him 
who  made  him,  and  of  him  who  redeem- 
ed him  :  for  already  hath  he  felt  that 
"  this  is  life  eternal,  to  know  thee,  the 
only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ  whom 
thou  hast  sent."  He  may  indeed  exult 
in  the  thought  that  hard  things  are  to 
be  explained,  and  dark  illuminated  ;  but 
only  that  he  may  find  fresh  cause   for 


praising,  admiring,  and  adoring  God. 
He  may  rejoice  in  the  assurance  that  a 
flood  of  splendid  light  will  be  poured 
alike  over  creation  and  redemption : 
but  his  great  motive  to  exultation  is, 
that  he  can  say  with  David  to  his  God, 
"  in  thy  light  shall  we  see  light,"  so  that 
the  irradiation  will  be  from  Deity,  and 
that  which  makes  visible  be  that  upon 
which  all  his  affections  are  fastened. 
And  you  ai'e  to  try  yourselves  by  this  test. 
You  are  to  ask  yourselves  whether  you 
desire  heaven  because  God  is  thei"e,  be 
cause  Christ  is  there  ;  whether,  in  short, 
God  and  Christ  would  be  to  you  heaven, 
if  there  were  none  but  these  to  be  be- 
held, none  but  these  to  be  enjoyed. 
Unless  you  can  answer  such  questions 
in  the  affirmative,  you  may  be  longing 
for  heaven,  because  it  is  a  place  of  re- 
pose, because  departed  kinsfolk  are 
there,  or  because  man  shall  there  be 
loftily  endowed  ;  but  you  have  none  of 
that  desire  which  proves  a  title  to  pos- 
session. We  do  not  say  that  such  rea- 
sons are  to  have  no  weight :  our  dis- 
course has  been  mainly  occupied  on  the 
setting  them  forth.  But  they  are  to  be 
only  secondary  and  subordinate :  they 
are  not  to  be  uppermost :  our  prime 
idea  of  heaven  should  be,  that  it  is  the 
place  where  God  dwells,  and  of  its  hap- 
piness, that  God  is  "  all  in  all." 

But  having  delivered  these  cautions, 
we  may  again  exclaim.  Glorious  em- 
pire, which  is  promised  us  by  God ! 
We  said,  in  the  commencement  of  our 
discourse,  that  we  would  utter  no  re- 
proaches, no  threatenings,  but  would 
dwell  exclusively  on  the  hopes  and 
privileges  of  christians.  And  we  are 
not  now  about  to  break  this  resolution  : 
unless  indeed  it  be  to  break  it  to  ex- 
press great  wonder,  and  bitter  regret, 
that,  when  men  might  be  heirs  of  a 
world  in  which  there  is  no  night,  of 
which  the  Lord  God  himself  is  the  sun, 
and  where  there  are  to  be  glorious 
thrones  for  those  faithful  unto  death, 
they  give  their  time  and  thought  to  the 
acquiring  some  perishable  good,  and 
live,  for  the  most  part,  as  though  they 
had  never  heard  of  judgment  and  eter- 
nity. On  other  occasions,  we  often 
strive  to  move  the  careless  amongst 
you  by  "  the  terrors  of  the  Lord  ;"  we 
warn  them  by  falling  stars,  and  a  moon 
"  turned  into  blood,"  and  a  sun  "  black 
as  sackcloth  of  hair,"  that  they  perfsia^ 
50 


394 


GOD  S   WAY  IX  THE  SANCTUARY. 


not  in  umighteousness.  And  even  now 
we  gatlier  our  incentives  from  a  strip- 
ped firmament  and  extinguished  lumi- 
naries. We  still  preach  to  the  worldly- 
minded  through  planets  which  have  start- 
ed from  their  courses,  and  a  sun  which 
has  ceased  to  give  light.  And,  never- 
theless, it  is  not  by  a  darkened,  it  is  by 
a  brilliantly  irradiated  sky,  that  we  sum- 
mon them  to  repentance.  The  bright 
world  of  which  we  have  spoken,  it  may 
be  yours.  It  hath  been  thrown  open  to 
you  by  that  "  High  Priest  of  our  pro- 
fession," who  entered  "  by  his  own 
blood,"  and  took  possession  for  himself 
and  his  followers.     There  is  not  one  of 


us  who  may  not,  if  he  will,  secure  him- 
self a  throne  in  this  everlasting  kingdom. 
"  Yet  there  is  room."  Myriads  have 
pressed  in,  myriads  are  pressing  in,  but 
"  yet  there  is  room."  Alas,  what  ac- 
count will  have  to  be  given  at  the  judg- 
ment, if  any  of  us  be  doomed  to  outer 
darkness,  in  place  of  passing  into  a 
world  where  there  shall  be  no  night  1 
What  but  that  we  wilfully  closed  our 
eyes  against  "the  light  of  the  glorious 
Gospel,"  not  wishing  to  be  made  aware 
of  our  danger  and  corruption  1  what  but; 
that  "  men  loved  darkness  rather  than 
light,  because  their  deeds  were  evil  ] " 


SERMON    XII. 


GOD'S  WAY  IN  THE  SANCTUARY. 


"  Tliy  way,  O  God,  is  in  the  sanctuary-,  wlio  is  so  great  a  God  as  our  God?  " — Psalm  lxxvii.  13. 


It  may  be  doubtful  whether,  in  speak- 
ing of  God's  way  as  "  in  the  sanctuary," 
the  Psalmist  designed  to  express  more 
than  that  God's  way  is  "  in  holiness." 
We  mean  that  it  does  not  seem  certain 
from  the  original,  that  he  intended  to 
make  any  such  reference  to  the  Jewish 
temple,  to  the  holy  place,  or  the  holy  of 
holies,  as  you  observe  in  our  translation. 
Bishop  Horsley's  version  is,  "  O  God, 
in  lioliness  is  thy  way :  what  God  is 
great  like  our  God]  "  There  does  not 
however  appear  to  be  any  positive  ob- 
jection against  the  common  rendering. 
In  the  G:3d  Psalm,  composed  whilst 
David  was  in  the  wilderness,  and  there- 
fore excluded  from  the  public  ordi- 
nances of  religion,  you  find  the  words, 
"my  soul  thirsteth  for  thee,  to  see  thy 
power  and  thy  glory,  so  as  I  have  seen 
thee  in  the  sanctuary."     Here  it  seems 


almost  required,  by  the  circumstances 
under  which  the  psalm  appears  to  have 
been  written,  that  we  should  adopt  the 
translation,  "  in  the  sanctuary,"  At 
least,  there  is  an  appositeness  in  this 
translation  which  there  is  not  in  any 
other  ;  for  the  Psalmist  was  undoubtedly 
longing  for  those  religious  privileges 
from  which  he  was  debarred,  privileges 
only  to  be  enjoyed  in  the  temple,  or 
tabernacle,  at  Jerusalem,  and  of  which 
he  had  there  often  and  thankfully  par- 
taken. But  the  original  is  the  same  as 
in  our  text :  we  may  suppose,  therefore, 
that  our  translators  were  not  without 
warrant  when  they  rcpresehtcd  the 
Psalmist  as  saying,  "  Thy  way  is  in  the 
sanctuary,"  and  not  "  Thy  way  is  in 
holiness." 

We  own  that  we  should   be  sorry  to 
have  to  give  up  the  common  translation. 


god's  way  in  tue  sanctuary. 


395 


and    adopt  the    other   which    we   liave 
mentioned.     There  are,  we  think,  trains 
of    very     interesting     and     instructive 
thought  opened  hy  the   statement  that 
God's  way  is  "in  the  sanctuary,"  along 
which  we  shouhl  not  he  led  by  consider- 
ing only  that  God's  way  is  "  in  holiness," 
At  the  same  time  it  should  be  observed, 
that  whatever  truth  is  presented  by  the 
latter  version  is  included  in  the  former, 
so  that  we   can  run  no  risk  of  missing 
the  meaning  of  the  passage  by  adopting 
the  more   ample  rendering.     We  wish 
you  further  to  remark,  that  the  triumph- 
ant question  with  which  our  text  con- 
cludes,   is    undoubtedly    suggested,    or 
wari'anted,  by  the  previous  statement  in 
regard  of  God's    way.     The   fact  that 
God's  way  is  "in  the  sanctuary,"  or  "in 
holiness,"  forms  evidently  the  argument 
for  that  greatness  of  God,  that  superiority 
of  Jehovah  to  every  false   deity,  which 
the  consequent  challenge  so  boldly  as- 
serts.    And  without   at   all  questioning 
that  the  fact  of  God's  way  being  "  in 
holiness"  would  well  bear  out  the  chal- 
lenge, we  shall  perhaps  see  in  the  sequel, 
that  yet  stronger  proofs  of  greatness  are 
furnished   by  the  fact  of  his  way  being 
"  in  the  sanctuary  :"  if  so,  these  reasons 
will  themselves  go  to  the  vindicating  the 
version  which  we  are  anxious  to  retain. 
Now  it  would  not   have   been  right 
that  we  should  have  proceeded  at  once 
to    discourse    to   you    on    the    common 
translation,  without  premising  these  few 
critical  remarks.     It  is  very  easy  to  lay 
a  stress  on  passages  of  Scripture,  or  to 
assign  them  a  meaning,  which  at  first 
sight,  may    seem  just,  but    which,    on 
closer  examination,  they  will  be  found 
not  to  bear.     And  he  who  may  endeavor 
to  interpret  the  Bible  is  required  to  be 
vei-y  honest,  frankly  avowing  the  objec- 
tions which  may  lie   against  his  state- 
ments ;  and  wheresoever  there  may  be 
doubt    as    to  the    precise  sense   of  the 
author,  hot  presuming  to  speak  with  any 
thing  like  certainty.     We  have  therefore 
candidly  shown  you  that  there  is  variety 
of  opinion   as  to  whether  there  be  any 
reference  in  our  text  to  the  sanctuary  or 
temple.     But  we  have  also  shown  you 
grounds   on  which  we  seem  warranted 
in  assuming  that  there  is  such  a  refer- 
ence :  and  we  may  now  proceed  to  dis- 
course on  this  assumption,  without  fear 
of  being   charged  with  attaching  undue 
weight  to  a  doubtful  expression. 


Now  the  Psalm  in  which  our  text 
occurs,  describes  great  alternations  of 
mind,  the  author  appearing  at  one  time 
almost  in  despair,  and  then  again  gather- 
ing confidence  from  the  attributes  of 
God.  Beset  with  difficulties  and  dangers, 
he  was  tempted  to  think  himself  aban- 
doned by  God,  so  that  he  pathetically 
exclaims,  "  Will  the  Lord  cast  off  for 
ever,  and  will  he  be  favorable  no  more  V 
He  soon,  however,  rejects  with  abhor- 
rence a  thought  so  dishonoring  to  God, 
and  ascribes  his  entertaining  it  to  spirit- 
ual weakness  and  disease,  "  And  I 
said.  This  is  my  infirmity :  but  I  will 
remember  the  years  of  the  right  hand 
of  the  Most  High."  He  calls  to  mind 
what  deliverances  God  had  wrought  for 
his  people,  and  concludes  that  they 
were  pledges  of  future  assistance,  "  I 
will  remember  the  works  of  the  Lordj 
surely  I  will  remember  thy  wonders  of 
old,"  And  hence  he  is  encouraged-:  he 
feels  that  God's  ways  may  be  mysterious, 
but  that  they  must  be  good  ;  and  that  it 
was  therefore  as  much  his  privilege  as 
his  duty  to  "  wait  patiently  "  upon  him. 
This  appears  to  be  the  feeling  which  he 
expresses  in  our  text :  he  has  taken  the 
retrospect  of  God's  dealings,  and  now 
announces  in  one  sentence  their  general 
character,  a  character  which  displays  the 
surpassing  greatness  of  their  author. 
There  is  no  reason,  then,  why  we  should 
make  a  confined  application  of  our  text : 
we  learn,  from  examining  the  context, 
that  the  works  and  wonders  of  the  Lord 
suo-crest  to  the  Psalmist  his  description 
of  God's  way,  and  we  may  therefore 
regard  that  description  as  applying  in 
general  to  all  the  dealings  of  our  Maker. 
We  have  now,  then,  a  clear  subject  of 
discourse,  a  general  description  of  the 
ways  or  dealings  of  God,  and  that  de- 
scription furnishing  evidence  of  God's 
unequalled  greatness.  Let  it  be  our 
endeavor  to  establish  and  illustrate  both 
the  description  and  the  evidence ;  in 
other  words,  let  us  strive  to  show  you, 
in  successive  instances,  how  true  it  is 
that  God's  way  "is  in  the  sanctuary," 
and  what  cause  there  is  in  each  for  ex- 
claiming, "  Who  is  so  great  a  God  as 
our  God  1  " 

Now  we  would  first  observe  that 
there  was  a  peculiar  force  to  a  Jew  in 
this  reference  to  the  sanctuary,  and  in 
the  consequent  challenge  as  to  the  great- 
ness of  God.     Under  the  legal  dispen- 


390 


god's  way  in  the  sanctuary. 


sation,  every  divine  dealing  was  closely 
connected  with  the  temple  :  in  the  temple 
were  the  manifestations  of  Deity,  the 
signs  and  notices  of  mercies  with  which 
future  days  were  charged.  There,  and 
there  only,  could  God  be  solemnly  wor- 
shipped; there  and  there  only,  might  ex- 
piatory sacrifices  be  offered  ;  there,  and 
there  only,  were  intimations  of  the  Divine 
will  to  be  sought  or  obtained.  In  the  holy 
of  holies,  on  the  mercy-seat,  overshadow- 
ed by  tlie  wings  of  cherubim,  dwelt  the 
perpetual  token  of  the  presence  of  the 
invisible  Creator ;  and  the  breast-plate 
of  the  high  priest,  glowing  with  mystic 
and  oracular  jewelry,  gave  forth,  in  the 
solitudes  of  the  tabernacle,  the  messages 
of  Jehovah.  Wonderful  dispensation  ! 
beneath  which,  in  spite  of  all  its  dark- 
ness, there  were  burning  traces  of  the 
"  goings  forth  "  of  God,  and  in  spite  of 
its  shadowy  and  imperfect  character, 
there  were  direct  and  open  commu- 
nications with  Him  "  that  inhabiteth 
eternity." 

But  of  all  its  wonders  the  temple 
might  be  declared  the  centre  or  seat ; 
for  seeing  that  God  designed,  in  the  ful- 
ness of  time,  to  gather  all  things  into 
his  Son,  and  to  set  him  forth  as  the  alone 
source  or  channel  of  blessing,  therefore 
did  he  make  the  temple,  which  typified 
that  Son,  the  home  of  all  his  operations, 
the  focus  into  which  were  condensed, 
and  from  which  diverged,  the  various 
rays  of  his  attributes  and  dealings. 
And  this  suggests  to  us  the  speaking 
for  a  few  moments  on  a  point  of  great 
importance,  the  consistency  of  the  several 
parts  of  revelation.  We  take  the  Bible 
into  our  hands,  and  examine  diligently 
its  different  sections,  delivered  in  dif- 
ferent ages  to  mankind.  There  is  a 
miglity  growth  in  the  discoveries  of 
God's  nature  and  will,  as  time  rolls  on 
from  creation  to  redemption ;  but  as 
knowledge  is  increased,  and  brighter 
light  thrown  on  the  divine  purposes  and 
dealings,  there  is  never  the  point  at 
which  we  are  brought  to  a  pause  by  the 
manifest  contradiction  of  one  part  to  an- 
other. It  is  the  wonderful  property  of 
the  Bible,  though  its  authorship  is  spread 
over  a  long  line  of  centuries,  tiiat  it  nev- 
er withdraws  any  truth  once  advanced, 
and  never  adds  new  without  giving  fresh 
force  to  the  old.  In  reading  the  Bible, 
we  always  look,  as  it  were,  on  the  same 
landscape  :  the  only  difierence  being,  as 


we  take  in  more  and  more  of  its  state- 
ments, that  more  and  more  of  the  mist 
is  rolled  away  from  the  horizon,  so  that 
the  eye  includes  a  broader  sweep  of 
beauty.  If  we  hold  converse  with  pa- 
triarchs occupying  the  earth  whilst  yet 
in  its  infancy,  and  then  listen  to  Moses 
as  he  legislates  for  Israel,  to  prophets 
throwing  open  the  future,  and  to  apos- 
tles as  they  publish  the  mysteries  of  a 
new  dispensation,  we  find  the  discourse 
always  bearing,  with  more  or  less  dis- 
tinctness, on  one  and  the  same  subject: 
the  latter  speakers,  if  we  may  use  such 
illustration,  turn  towards  us  a  larger 
portion  than  the  former  of  the  illumina- 
ted hemisphere  :  but,  as  the  mighty  globe 
revolves  on  its  axis,  we  feel  that  the 
oceans  and  lands,  which  come  succes- 
sively into  view,  are  but  constituent  parts 
of  the  same  glorious  world.  There 
is  the  discovery  of  new  territories  ;  but, 
as  fast  as  discovered,  the  territories  com- 
bine to  make  up  one  planet.  There  is 
the  announcement  of  new  truths;  but, 
as  fast  as  announced,  they  take  their 
places  as  parts  of  one  immutable  system. 
Indeed  there  is  vast  difference  between 
the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul,  and  the  Psalms 
of  David,  or  the  prophecies  of  Isaiah. 
But  it  is  the  difference,  as  we  have  just 
said,  between  the  landscape  whilst  the 
morning  mist  yet  rests  on  half  its  vil- 
lages and  lakes,  and  that  same  range  >of 
scenery  when  the  noontide  irradiates 
every  spire  and  every  rivulet.  It  is  the 
difference  between  the  moon,  as  she 
turns  towards  us  only  a  thin  crescent  of 
her  illuminated  disk,  and  when,  in  the 
fulness  of  her  beauty,  she  walks  our 
firmament,  and  scatters  our  night.  It 
is  no  new  landscape  which  opens  on 
our  gaze,  as  the  town  and  forest  emerge 
from  the  shadow,  and  fill  up  the  blanks 
in  the  noble  panorama.  It  is  no  new 
planet  which  comes  travelling  in  its 
majesty,  as  the  crescent  swells  into  the 
circle,  and  the  faint  thread  of  light  gives 
place  to  the  rich  globe  of  silver.  And 
it  is  no  fresh  system  of  religion  which  is 
made  known  to  the  dwellers  in  this 
creation,  as  the  brief  notices  given  to 
patriarchs  expand  in  the  institutions  of 
the  law,  and  under  the  breathings  of 
prophecy,  till  at  length,  in  the  days  of 
Christ  and  his  apostles,  they  burst  into 
magnificence,  and  fill  a  world  with  re- 
demption. It  is  throughout  the  same 
system,  a  system  for  the  rescue  of  hu- 


GOD  S  WAY  IN  THE  SANCTUARY. 


397 


maiilcind  by  the  intei-ference  of  a  surety. 
And  revelation  has  been  nothing  else 
but  the  gradual  developement  of  this 
system,  the  drawing  up  another  fold 
of  the  veil  from  the  landscape,  the  add- 
ing another  stripe  of  light  to  the  cres- 
cent, so  that  the  early  fathers  of  our 
race,  and  ourselves  on  whom  "  the  ends 
of  the  world  are  come,"  look  on  the 
same  arrangement  for  human  deliver- 
ance, though  to  them  there  was  nothing 
but  a  clouded  expanse,  with  here  and 
there  a  prominent  landmark  ;  whilst  to 
us,  though  the  horizon  loses  itself  in  the 
far-off  eternity,  every  object  of  personal 
interest  is  exhibited  in  beauty  and  dis- 
tinctness. 

But  if  we  may  affirm  this  thorough 
consistency  of  the  several  parts  of  Re- 
velation, we  may  speak  of  the  Jewish 
temple,  with  all  its  solemnities  and  cer- 
emonies, as  a  focus  for  the  rays  of  the 
divine  attributes  and  dealings ;  seeing 
that  into  its  services  must  have  been 
mystically  gathered  the  grand  truths 
and  facts  which  have  been  successively 
developed,  or  which  have  yet  to  be 
disclosed.  And  who  shall  tell  us  the 
emotions  with  which  a  devout  Jew  must 
have  regarded  the  temple,  that  temple 
towards  which,  if  he  chanced  to  be  a 
wanderer  in  a  foreign  land,  he  was  bid- 
den to  turn,  whensoever  he  sought  in 
prayer  the  God  of  his  fathers,  as  though 
he  must  imagine  himself  canopied  by  its 
lofty  architecture,  before  he  could  gain 
audience  of  his  Maker?  If  he  had  sin- 
ned, he  must  go  up  to  the  temple,  that 
there  his  guilt  might  be  expiated  by  the 
blood  of  slain  beasts.  If  he  had  become 
ceremonially  defiled,  he  must  go  up  to 
the  temple,  that  there,  through  certain 
figurative  rites,  he  might  be  restored  in- 
to fellowship  with  God's  people.  If  he 
had  mercies  to  acknowledge,  he  must  go 
up  to  the  temple,  that  he  might  there 
express  his  gratitude  in  eucharistical 
offerings.  If  he  needed,  in  some  extra- 
ordinary ci'isis,  direction  from  above, 
he  must  go  up  to  the  temple,  that  there 
the  priest  might  divine  for  him,  by  the 
urim  and  thummim,  the  course  which  it 
was  God's  will  that  he  should  take. 
With  what  deep  feeling,  therefore,  must 
he  have  confessed,  "Thy  way,  O  God,' 
is  in  the  sanctuary."  And  would  he  not, 
moi-eover,  as  he  mused  on  this  fact,  be 
led  to  the  acknowledging  and  admirincj 
the  greatness  of  the  Lord?  We  do  not 


know,  that,  at  any  time,  or  under  any 
circumstances,  God  has  vouchsafed  more 
striking  proofs  of  his  greatness,  than 
whilst  he  governed  Israel  from  the  ta- 
bernacle as  his  throne.  There  was 
something  so  sublime  in  the  whole  sys- 
tem of  a  theocracy ;  the  interferences 
of  an  invisible  King  were  so  awful,  be- 
cause, whilst  the  sceptre  was  swayed, 
there  was  apparently  no  hand  to  hold 
it ;  the  sanctities  of  the  arkj  with  its 
symbolical  riches,  were  so  consuming 
and  so  conquering,  thousands  perishing 
through  a  rash  glance,  and  idols  falling 
j)rostrate  ;  that  never  perhaps  did  the 
Almighty  give  such  tokens  of  his  supre- 
macy, as  whilst,  without  the  intervention 
of  any  chief  magistrate,  he  guided  and 
ruled  the  twelve  tribes. 

And  even  when  the  affairs  of  the  Is- 
raelites were  administered  in  a  more  or- 
dinary way — as  was  the  case  when  our 
text  was  composed,  there  being  then  a 
king. in  Jerusalem — we  may  well  speak 
of  the  greatness  of  God  as  singularly 
exhibited  through  all  the  ordinances  of 
religion.  It  is  here  that  we  have  need 
of  what  has  been  advanced  on  the  con- 
sistency of  revelation.  How  great  was 
God  in  all  those  types  and  emblems 
which  figured  prophetically  the  mysteries 
of  redemption.  How  great  in  arranging 
a  complicated  system,  whose  august 
ceremonies,  and  pompous  rites,  might 
serve  the  purpose  of  keeping  a  fickle 
people  from  being  seduced  by  the  splen- 
did superstitions  of  the  heathen ;  and 
nevertheless  foreshow,  in  their  minutest 
particulars,  the  simple,  beautiful  facts 
of  a  religion,  whose  temple  was  to  be 
the  whole  world,  and  whose  shrine  every 
human  heart.  How  great  in  preserving 
a  knowledge  of  himself,  whilst  darkness, 
gross  darkness  covered  the  nations ;  and 
in  carrying  on  the  promise  and  hope  of 
a  Messiah,  through  age  after  age  of  al- 
most universal  apostacy.  How  great  in 
ordaining  sacrifices  which,  in  all  their 
varieties,  represented  one  and  the  same 
victim  ;  in  commanding  observances  so 
numerous  and  multiform  that  they  can 
hardly  be  recounted,  but  which,  in  every 
tittle,  had  respect  to  the  same  deliverer; 
in  gathering  all  that  was  distant  into 
each  day,  and  each  hour,  of  an  introduc- 
tory dispensation,  crowding  the  scene 
with  a  thousand  different  shadows,  but 
all  formed  by  light  thrown  on  one  and 
the  same  substance.     And  all  these  de- 


398 


god's  way  in  the  sanctuary. 


monstrations,  or  exlilbitlons,  of  greatness, 
wore  furnished  from  the  sanctuary  j  the 
temple  was  God's  palace,  if  you  view 
him  as  king  over  Israel  ;  and  within  its 
sacred  precincts  those  celebrations  took 
place,  and  those  rites  were  performed, 
which  announced  a  Redeemer,  and 
in  some  sense  anticipated  his  coming. 
Then  well  indeed  might  the  Jew,  who 
thought  on  God's  way  as  "  in  the  sanc- 
tuary," break  into  a  confession  of  the 
greatness  of  God.  We  know  not  pre- 
cisely the  time  when  the  psalm,  in  which 
our  text  occurs,  was  composed  ;  whether 
after  the  building  of  the  temple,  or 
whilst  "  the  ark  of  the  covenant  of  the 
Lord  remained  under  curtains."  But 
suppose  that  Solomon  had  already  rear- 
ed his  magnificent  pile,  it  would  not 
have  been  the  grandeur  of  the  house  of 
the  Lord  which  would  have  filled  the 
devout  Jew  with  wonder  and  exultation. 
As  he  gazed  on  the  stupendous  struc- 
ture, it  would  not  have  been  because  it 
outdid  every  other  in  beauty  and  majes- 
ty that  his  heait  would  have  swelled 
with  lofty  emotions.  He  would  have 
venerated  the  edifice,  because  it  was  as 
the  council-chamber  in  which  Deity  ar- 
ranged his  plans,  and  the  stage  on 
which  he  wrought  them  gradually  out 
for  the  benefit  of  the  world.  As  he  en- 
tered its  courts,  he  would  have  seemed 
to  himself  to  enter  the  very  place  where 
all  those  mighty  affairs  were  being  trans- 
acted, which  were  to  terminate,  in  some 
far-off  season,  in  the  emancipation  of  the 
earth  from  wickedness  and  wretched- 
ness. On  every  altar  he  would  have 
seen  a  Redeemer  already  offered  up  :  in 
every  cloud  of  incense  he  would  have 
marked  the  ascendings  of  acceptaljle 
puayer  through  a  Mediator:  in  the  blast 
of  every  trumpet  he  would  have  heard 
God  marshalling  his  ai'mies  for  the  final 
overthrow  of  Satan.  And  the  feeling 
of  his  soul  must  have  been,  "  Thy  way, 

0  God,  is  in  the  sanctuary."  Thy  way 
— I  cannot  trace  it  on  the  firmament, 
studded  though  it  be  with  thy    works, 

1  cannot  trace  it  on  the  earth,  though 
thou  art  there  in  a  thousand  operations, 
all  eloquent,  and  all  worthy,  of  thyself 
I  search  creation,  but  cannot  find  the 
lines  of  thy  way,  along  which  thou  art 
passing  to  the  fulfilment  of  thino  ancient 
promises.  But  here  is  thy  way,  here 
in  thy  sanctuary.  Every  stone  seems 
wrought  into  the  pavement  of  that  way  ; 


every  altar  is  as  a  pillar  which  shows 
its  course :  every  sound  is  as  the  sound 
of  thy  footstep,  as  thou  goest  fcrward 
in  thine  awfulness.  And  in  this,  yea, 
in  this,  thou  art  amazing.  I  should 
have  marvelled  at  thee  less,  had  thine 
advancings  towards  the  consunnnation 
of  thy  plan  been  audible  through  the 
universe,  than  now  that  within  these 
walls  thou  hast  space  enough  for  the 
march  of  a  purpose  in  which  the  uni- 
verse has  interest.  Wonderful  in  that, 
through  what  goes  on  in  this  house  build- 
ed  with  hands,  thou  art  approximating 
to  a  glorious  result,  the  overthrow  of 
evil,  and  its  extermination  from  thine 
empire — yea,  more  wonderful,  for  it 
more  shows  thee  independent  even  on 
the  instruments  which  thou  dost  use, 
than  if  thou  hadst  taken  unnumbered 
worlds  for  thy  scene  of  operation,  pass- 
ing in  thy  majesty  from  one  to  another, 
and  causing  each  to  be  a  beacon  on  the 
track  of  redemption.  And  therefore,  oh, 
what  can  I  do,  after  feeling  and  confess- 
ing that  "  thy  way,  O  God,  is  in  the  sanc- 
tuary," but  break  into  a  challenge,  a  chal- 
lenge, to  angels  above,  and  to  men  below, 
"  who  is  so  great  a  God  as  our  God  1" 
But  we  would  now  observe,  that,  by 
the  sanctuary,  we  may  probably  under- 
stand the  holy  of  holies  :  for  it  was  in 
that  veiled  and  mysterious  recess  that 
the  Shekinah  shone,  the  visible  token 
of  the  Almighty's  presence.  However 
true  it  be  that  God's  way  was  in  the 
temple,  understanding  by  the  temple 
the  whole  structure  that  was  set  apart 
to  sacred  uses,  it  was  yet  more  emjiha- 
tically  true  that  this  way  was  in  the 
sanctuary,  understanding  by  the  sanc- 
tuary that  part  within  the  veil,  into 
which  none  but  the  high  priest  was  al- 
lowed to  enter,  and  that  but  once  in  the 
year,  when  he  entered  as  a  type  of  the 
Mediator  who,  having  shed  his  blood  as 
a  sacrifice,  carried  it  into  heaven  to 
present  it  as  an  intei-cessor.  It  may  not 
fiave  been  altogether  to  the  temple 
services,  to  the  ceremonies  and  sacrifices 
appointed  by  the  law,  that  the  Psalmist 
referred  :  it  may  rather  have  been  to  the 
awfulness,  the  sanctity,  the  })rivacy  of 
that  spot  where  the  Almighty  might 
be  said  to  have  condescended  to  take  up 
his  abotle.  In  saying  that  God's  way 
was  "  in  the  sanctuary,"  he  may  have 
designed  to  assert  the  impenetrable 
obscurity  in  which  the  divine  proceedings 


GOD  S  WAY  IN  THE  SANCTUARY. 


399 


were  shrouded,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
inviolable  holiness  by  which  they  were 
distinguished ;  and  then  the  concluding 
question  will  indicate  that  this  obscurity, 
and  this  holiness,  were  arguments  or 
evidences  of  the  greatness  of  God.  And. 
it  will  not  be  difficult  to  trace  the  con- 
nection between  the  several  paits  of  our 
text,  if  you  consider  the  sanctuary  as 
thus  put  for  the  qualities  or  properties 
which  were  specially  pointed  out  by  the 
holy  of  holies.  You  are  to  remember 
that  the  sanctuary  was  a  place  into  which 
no  Israelite  but  the  high  priest  might 
ever  dare  to  enter,  and  the  attempting 
to  enter  which  would  have  been  an  act 
of  the  worst  sacrilege,  certain  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  instant  and  fearful  vengeance. 
What  concealment  then  was  there  about 
this  sanctuary,  and  at  the  same  time 
what  purity  !  He  who  thought  on  the 
holy  of  holies,  thought  on  a  solitude 
which  was  inacessible  to  him,  though 
close  at  hand  :  inaccessible,  even  as  the 
remotest  depth  of  infinite  space,  though 
a  single  step  might  have  taken  him  into 
its  midst ;  but  at  the  same  time,  a  soli- 
tude where,  as  his  well  knew,  every 
thing  breathed,  holiness,  every  thing 
glowed  with  the  lustre  of  that  Being 
who  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to  look  upon 
iniquity.  And  to  say  of  God  that  his 
way  was  in  this  sanctuary,  what  was 
it  but  to  say  that  God  works  in  an  im- 
penetrable secrecy,  but  that,  nevertheless, 
in  that  secrecy  he  orders  every  thing  in 
righteousness  1  These  are  facts  with 
which  we  ought  to  be  familiar,  and  in 
regard  of  which  we  should  strive  to  keep 
our  faith  firm.  We  may  not  hope  to 
understand  the  dealings  of  the  Lord  : 
nay,  we  must  be  content  not  to  under 
Btand  them  :  we  must  not  attempt  to 
lift,  with  presumptuous  hand,  the  veil 
which  conceals  the  place  in  which  they 
originate.  It  is  behind  that  curtain,  to 
pass  which  is  to  perish,  that  the  Al- 
mighty arranges  his  purposes,  and  ap- 
points means  for  their  consummation  ; 
and.  though  we  may  know  something  of 
these  purposes,  as  they  appear  without 
the  curtain  in  their  progress  towards 
completion,  they  are  hidden  from  us  in 
their  springs,  and  must  often  therefore 
be  quite  incomprehensible. 

But  what  of  this  1  The  sublime  se- 
crec}'^  in  which  God  dwells,  and  in  which 
lie  works,  is  among  the  signal  tokens  of 
liis    greatness.      In    nothing   does   the 


Supreme  Being  more  demand  our  ad- 
miration than  in  those  properties  which 
caused  an  apostle  to  exclaim,  "  How  un- 
searchable are  his  judgments,  and  his 
ways  past  finding  out."  It  is  a  proof  of 
his  mercy  towards  us,  and  a  source  of 
vast  honor  to  himself,  that  he  hides  him- 
self in  clouds,  and  throws  around  his 
goings  an  awful  obscurity.  There  is 
something  singularly  noble  in  that  saying 
of  Solomon,  in  the  book  of  Proverbs, 
"  It  is  the  glory  of  God  to  conceal  a 
thing."  It  is  his  glory  not  to  make  his 
every  dealing  luminous,  so  that  his  crea- 
tures might  read  without  difficulty  its 
design,  and  admit  without  an  act  of  faith 
its  excellence ;  but  to  involve  his  pro- 
ceedings in  so  much  of  darkness,  that 
there  shall  be  a  constant  demand  on  the 
submissiveness  and  trust  of  those  whom 
they  concern.  It  is  his  glory,  inasmuch 
as  he  thus  takes  the  most  effectual  mode 
of  preserving  a  spirit  of  dependence  on 
himself,  in  beings  who  are  prone  to  forget 
a  first  cause,  and  to  ascribe  to  some 
second  whatsoever  they  fancy  they  can 
trace  to  an  origin.  And  very  wonderful 
does  God  appear,  when  thus  represented 
as  seated  in  some  inapproachable  soli- 
tude, veiled  from  all  finite  intelligence, 
and  there  regulating  the  countless 
springs,  and  putting  in  motion  the  count- 
less wheels  which  are  to  produce  ap- 
pointed results  throughout  immensity. 
It  is  not  that  he  is  associated  with 
myriads  of  wise  and  ever-active  beings, 
with  whom  he  may  consult,  and  by  whom 
he  may  be  assisted,  in  reference  to  the 
multitudinous  transactions  of  every  day 
and  every  moment.  His  way  "is  in  the 
sanctuary."  He  is  alone,  majestically, 
omnipotently  alone.  The  vast  labora- 
tories of  nature,  he  presides  over  them 
himself.  The  operations  of  providence, 
they  all  originate  with  himself  The 
workings  of  grace,  they  confess  his  im- 
mediate authorship.  My  brethren,  this 
is  God  in  his  sublimitv.  God  in  his 
stupendousness.  Let  us  take  heed  that 
we  attempt  not  to  penetrate  his  soli- 
tudes :  let  it  content  us  to  worship  before 
the  veil,  and  to  know  that  he  is  working 
behind  it :  why  rashly  endeavor  to  cross 
the  threshold  of  the  holy  of  holies,  when 
"  it  is  the  glory  of  God  to  conceal  a 
thing]" 

And  certainly  it  is  not  the  obscurity 
which  there  may  be  round  the  ways  of 
the  Jjord  which  should  induce  a  suspi- 


400 


god's  way  in  the  sanctuary. 


cion  that  those  ways  are  not  righteous. 
If  God  work  in  a  place  of  secrecy,  we 
know  lliat  it  is  equally  a  place  of  sanc- 
tity :  we  can  be  sure,  therefore,  of  what- 
soever comes  forth  from  that  place,  that 
if  involved  in  clouds,  it  is  invested  with 
equity.  We  may  not  be  able  to  discover 
God's  reasons :  but  we  can  be  certain 
from  his  attributes,  attributes  which  shine 
through  the  veil,  though  that  veil  be  im- 
penetrable, that  we  should  approve  them 
if  discovered.  And  if  it  be  an  evidence 
of  the  greatness  of  God,  that  his  way  is 
hidden,  we  scarcely  need  say  that  it  is 
a  further  evidence  of  this  greatness,  that 
his  way  is  holy.  That,  although  he 
have  to  deal  with  a  polluted  world,  with 
creatures  by  nature  "  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins,"  he  contracts  no  impurity,  but 
keeps  travelling,  as  it  were,  "  in  the 
sanctuary,"  even  whilst  moving  to  and 
fro  amid  those  who  have  defiled  them- 
selves and  their  dwelling-place — what  is 
this  but  proof  that  he  is  immeasurably 
separated  by  difierence  of  nature,  from 
all  finite  being;  that  he  is  verily  "  the 
;iigh  and  holy  One  that  inhabiteth  eter- 
nity," the  high  because  the  holy,  and 
equally  the  holy  because  the  high  ?  In- 
deed, whilst  there  is  every  thing  to 
comfort  us,  there  is  every  thing  also  to 
give  us  lofty  thoughts  of  God,  in  the  fact 
that  God's  way  "  is  in  the  sanctuary." 
"  In  the  sanctuary  :"  I  may  not  enter,  I 
may  not  think  to  penetrate.  But  how 
great  must  be  the  Being  who  llius,  with- 
drawn from  all  scrutiny,  always  in  a 
solitude,  though  encompassed  with  ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand  waiting 
spirits,  orders  every  event,  directs  every 
agent,  consummates  every  purpose. 
"  In  the  sanctuary  :"  where  every  thing 
is  of  a  purity  that  dazzles  even  the  ima- 
gination, on  whose  emblematic  furniture 
the  eye  may  not  look,  as  though  a 
human  glance  would  dim  the  lustres  of 
its  gold.  How  righteous  must  be  the 
Being  who  thus  hides  himself  in  light, 
how  just  his  ways,  how  good  his  ap- 
pointments! Do  ye  not  seem  to  enter 
into  the  feeling  of  the  Psalmist  1  are  ye 
not  ready  to  pass  with  him  from  his  con- 
fession to  his  challenge  ]  Come,  place 
yourselves  by  him,  as  he  may  be  sup- 
posed to  meditate  in  the  temple.  He 
calls  to  mind  liie  dealings  of  God.  How 
much  that  is  perplexing,  how  much  that 
is  dark,  how  much  tliat  is  incojnprehen- 
eible !     Wliither  shall  he  turn  for  counsel 


and  comfort  1  whence  shall  he  draw 
mateiial  of  assurance,  that  notwithstand  • 
ing  all  apparent  inconsistencies,  notwith- 
standing obscurity  and  intricacy,  the 
hand  of  the  Lord  is  a  mighty  hand,  and 
will  bring  to  pass  whatsoever  is  best"? 
His  eye  is  on  that  veil  which  hides  from 
his  gaze  the  Shekinah,  and  the  mercy- 
seat,  and  the  overshadowing  cherubim. 
AVhat  does  the  solitude,  with  its  burning 
and  beautiful  wonders,  represent  ?  what 
means  this  inaccessible  spot,  tenanted 
by  Deity,  but  forbidden  to  man  1  Ah, 
wherefore  indeed  doth  God  thus  shrine 
himself  in  the  holy  of  holies,  unless  to 
teach  us  that  we  cannot  look  upon  him 
in  his  actings,  but  that,  nevertheless,  those 
actings,  though  necessarily  inscrutable, 
partake  the  sanctity  as  well  as  the  se- 
crecy of  his  dwelling  ]  This  thought 
may  be  supposed  to  occupy  the  Psalm- 
ist. It  sti'engthens,  it  animates  him  ;  it 
should  strengthen,  it  should  animate 
you.  The  veil,  whilst  it  hides,  reveals 
Deity :  nay,  it  reveals  by  hiding :  it 
teaches  the  sublimity  of  God,  inap- 
proachable; his  independence,  none 
with  him  in  his  workings  ;  and  yet  his 
righteousness,  for  it  is  the  awful  purity 
of  the  place  which  warns  back  all  intru- 
ders. Then  there  is  enough  to  make  us 
both  discover,  and  rejoice  in,  the  supre- 
macy of  our  God.  With  a  tongue  of 
fear,  for  we  are  almost  staggered  by  the 
mysteriousness  of  his  workings,  we  will 
confess,  "  Thy  way,  O  God,  is  in  the 
sanctuary :"  but  with  a  tongue  of  tri- 
umph, for  his  very  concealments  are 
tokens  of  his  Almightiness,  we  will  give 
utterance  to  the  challenge,  *'  Who  is  so 
gieat  a  God  as  our  God  V 

But  there  can  be  no  reason  why  we 
should  confine  the  illustrations  of  our 
text  to  the  Jewish  temple  and  dispensa- 
tion. Wc  may  bring  down  the  verse  to 
our  own  day,  understand  by  the  sanc- 
tuary our  own  churches,  and  still  found 
on  the  confession  in  the  first  clause  the 
challenge  which  is  uttered  in  the  second. 
You  must  all  be  prepared  to  admit,  that 
under  the  christian,  even  as  it  was  under 
the  legal,  dispensation,  God  specially 
works  by  and  through  the  public  ordi- 
nances of  religion,  in  converting  sinners 
and  bringing  them  into  acquaintance 
with  himself.  Perhaps  indeed  you  may 
think  that  it  could  not  have  been  to  such 
Wf)rkings  as  these  that  the  Psalmist  re- 
ferred, when  he  spake  of  God's  way  as 


GOD  S  WAY  IN  THE  SANCTUARY. 


401 


"  in  the  sanctuary,"  and  that  wc  are  not 
therelore  warranted  in  making  that  use 
of  his  words  which  wc  are  now  al)out  to 
make.  But  we  believe  that  this  is  alto- 
gether an  error,  and  that  the  Psalmist 
may  justly  be  considered  as  speaking  of 
the  sanctuary,  even  as  we  now  speak  of 
a  church,  as  a  place  of  instruction,  where 
messages  are  to  be  looked  for  from  (rod 
to  the  soul.  The  Psalmist  describes 
himself  as  perplexed  by  the  dealings  of 
God,  and  then  as  comforted  by  the 
thought  that  God's  way  is  "  in  the  sanc- 
tuary." Now  if  you  turn  to  the  seventy- 
third  Psalm,  bearing  the  name  of  the 
same  author,  Asaph,  as  is  borne  by  that 
in  which  our  text  occurs,  you  will  find  a 
very  similar  description  of  perplexity, 
and  of  comfort  derived  in  some  way  from 
the  sanctuary.  The  writer  is  greatly 
staggered  by  the  prosperity  of  the 
wicked,  and  tempted  to  receive  it  as  an 
evidence  against  the  strictness  of  God's 
moral  government.  And  how  does  he 
overcome  the  temptation  1  You  shall 
hear  what  he  says,  "  When  I  thought  to 
know  this,  it  was  too  painful  for  me  ; 
until  I  went  into  the  sanctuary  of  God: 
then  understood  I  the  end."  He  ob- 
tained, you  perceive,  instruction  in  the 
sanctuary,  which  suflRced  to  the  removing 
his  doubts,  and  the  restoring  his  confi- 
dence in  the  righteousness  of  the  divine  I 
dealings.  It  cannot;  therefore,  be  an 
unwarrantable  supposition,  that  the  re- 
ference to  the  sanctuary  in  our  text, 
is  a  reference  to  the  public  ordinances  of 
religion  as  instrumental  to  the  commu- 
nicating knowledge,  and  the  strengthen- 
ing faith.  The  Psalmist  is  again  per- 
plexed by  much  that  is  intricate  in  the 
dealings  of  God.  But  again  he  bethinks 
him  of  the  sanctuary :  he  remembers 
that  God's  way  "  is  in  the  sanctuary  " — 
in  other  words,  that  God's  method  of 
teaching  is  by  and  through  the  ordi- 
nances of  the  sanctuary  ;  and,  filled  with 
gratitude  and  wonder  that  there  should 
be  such  a  channel  of  intercourse  with 
the  Creator,  he  breaks  into  an  acknow- 
ledgement of  his  unrivalled  greatness. 

Hence  we  seem  justified  in  transfer- 
ring the  verse  to  ourselves,  in  regarding 
it  simply  as  containing  an  argument  for 
the  greatness  of  God,  drawn  from  his 
working  through  the  instrumentality  of 
sermons  and  sacraments.  His  "  way  is 
in  the  sanctuary."  It  is  in  buildinofs 
a<»voted  to  the  purposes  of  his  worship, 


and  through  the  ministrations  of  his  or- 
dained servants,  that  he  commonly  car- 
ries on  his  work  of  turning  sinners  from 
the  error  of  their  ways,  and  building  up 
his  people  in  their  faith.  That  there  may 
be  exceptions  to  such  a  rule  as  this,  no 
one  would  for  a  moment  dispute.  Cases 
unquestionably  occur  in  which  conver- 
sion is  effected  without  the  instrumen- 
tality of  a  sermon,  or  in  which  the  soul 
is  rapidly  edified,  though  debarred  from 
all  public  means  of  grace.  Bui  never- 
theless the  general  rule  is,  that  it  pleases 
God  "  by  the  foolishness  of  preaching, 
to  save  them  that  believe,"  not  only, 
you  observe,  to  bring  men  in  the  first 
instance  to  belief;  but  to  carry  them 
forward  in  godliness  till  belief  issues  in 
final  salvation.  We  magnify  our  office. 
We  claim  no  authority  whatsoever  for 
the  man  :  but  we  claim  the  very  highest 
for  the  messenger,  the  ambassador. 
Again  and  again  would  we  seize  oppor- 
tunities of  impressing  upon  you  the  im- 
portance of  entertaining  just  views  of 
the  ministerial  office.  There  are  num- 
bers of  you,  we  must  believe,  who  con- 
stantly come  up  to  God's  house  with  the 
very  tempers  and  feelings  which  you 
would  carry  to  a  lecture-room  ;  with  all 
that  excited  intellect,  and  all  that  critical 
spirit,  which  fit  yt)u  for  nothing  but  the 
sitting  in  judgment  upon  what  shall  be 
delivered,  as  upon  a  process  of  argument, 
or  a  specimen  of  elocution.  There  is 
practically  no  recognition  of  the  commis- 
sion which  is  borne  by  the  man  wlio  ad- 
dresses you,  no  influential  persuasion 
of  his  being  an  appointed  messenger 
through  whom  you  may  hope  that  God 
will  graciously  infuse  light  into  the  un- 
derstanding, and  warmth  into  the  heart : 
but,  on  the  contrary,  he  is  thought  to 
stand  before  you  with  no  higher  claim 
on  your  attention,  than  what  he  can 
make  good  by  his  own  mental  powers, 
and  with  no  greater  likelihood  of  speak- 
ing to  your  profit  than  is  furnished  by 
his  own  skill  as  an  expositor  of  truth. 
And  upon  this  account  mainly  it  is,  as 
we  have  been  long  painfully  convinced, 
that  there  are  such  insufficient  results 
from  the  services  of  God's  house,  that 
Sabbath  after  Sabbath  passes  away,  and 
scarce  leaves  a  token  that  good  has 
been  wrought.  You  are  not  in  the  moral 
attitude  w^hich  is  presupposed  ir  the  ap- 
pointment of  the  preacher.  You  are  in 
the  attitude  of  critics,  you  are  in  the 
51 


402 


god's  way  i\  the  sanctuary. 


atiitiule  of  a  jury  javing  to  pronounce 
a  verdict  after  hearing  certain  state- 
ments. But  the  preacher  is  not  before 
you  as  a  debater,  the  preacher  is  not 
J;)efore  you  as  a  pleader ;  and  conse- 
quently your  attitude  is  just  the  reverse 
of  that  which  ought  to  be  assumed  :  the 
preacher  is  befure  you  as  an  ambassador, 
and  therefore  ought  you  to  be  in  the 
altitude  of  mere  listeners  to  an  overture 
from  the  God  whom  you  have  offended, 
of  expectants  of  a  communication  from 
him  in  whose  name  the  preacher  ad- 
dj  esses  you.  The  evil  is,  you  do  not 
feel  that  God's  way  "  is  in  the  sanctu- 
ary;" and  therefore  you  give  too  low  a 
character  both  to  sermons  and  sacra- 
ments, failing  to  view  in  them  the  ap- 
pointed instrumentality  through  which 
God  works  in  converting  and  confirming 
the  soul. 

But,  nevertheless,  the   fact   remains, 
that  God's  way  "  is  in  the  sanctuary." 
And    a   very    surprising  fact  it  is,  one 
calculated  to  excite  in  us   the    highest 
thoughts  of  the  supremacy  of  God.    We 
wish  you  to  contrast  the    agency  with 
the  result.     We  are  always  much  struck 
with  the  expression  of  St.  Paul  to  Ti- 
mothy, "in  doing  this,  thou  shall  both 
save  thyself,  and  them  that  hear  thee." 
The  preacher,  who  is  to  be  an  instru- 
ment in  the  saving  of  others,  stands  in 
the  same  need  of  salvation  himself.     In 
the  great  work  of  gathering-  in  the  na- 
tions, and  fixing  the  religion  of  Jesus  in 
the  households  and  hearts  of  the  human 
population,  the  Almighty  makes  not  use 
of  lofty  agents  who  have  kept  their  first 
estate,  but  of  the  fallen  and  feeble,  who 
are  themselves  in  peril,  themselves  but 
wresulers  for  immortality.     It  is  easy  to 
imagine  a  different  arrangement.     In  his 
Ei)istle  to  the   Galatians,  St.  Paul  has 
supposed  the  case  of  an  angel  from  hea- 
ven discharging  the  office  of  a  preacher 
to  men.     It  might   have   been   so.     In 
place  of  assembling  to  listen  to  the  ex- 
hortations, and  receive  the  counsels,  of 
one  who  shares  with  you  your  sinfulness, 
and  is  naturally  under  tlie  same  condem.- 
nation.  you  might  have  thronged  to  the 
sanctuary,  t<j  heaikcMi  to  a  celestial  mes- 
senger, who  came  d<nvn  in  angelic  beauty, 
and  ottered  you  in  (Jod's  name  a  h(jme 
in  the  land  from  whic^h  he  had  descend- 
ed.    And    we    cannot    doubt    that    you 
would  have  hung  with  surpassing  inlcr- 
eet  on  the  lips  of  the  heavenly  speaker ; 


and  that  as,  with  an  eloquence,  and  a 
pathos,  and    a   persuasiveness,  such    as 
are  wholly  unknown  in  the  most  touch- 
ing human    oratory,     he,    warned    you 
against  evil  ar.d  urged  you  to  righteous- 
ness, your  hearts    would    have    burned 
within  you,  and  been  often  wrought  up 
to  a  resolve  of  pressing  towards  the  re- 
gion to  which  the  seraph  invited  you. 
We  fully  believe,  that,  if  some  mysteri- 
ous visitant,  unearthly  in  form  and  rai- 
ment, were  to  occupy  this  pulpit,  a  deep 
and  almost  painful  solemnity  would  per- 
vade the  assembly  ;  and  that  as,  in  tones 
such  as  were  never  modulated  by  human 
organs,  and  words  such  as  never  flowed 
from  human  lips,  he  "reasoned  of  right- 
eousness,    temperance,     and    judgment 
to  come,"  there  would  be  produced  on 
the  mass  of  riveted  listeners  an  effect, 
which  might  not  indeed  be  permanent, 
but  which,  for  the  time,  would  be  whol- 
ly without  parallel  in  all  that  is  ascribed 
to  poweiful  speaking.     Neither  can    it 
be  thought  that  an  angel  would  preach 
with  less  aff'ection  than  a  man,  because 
not  exposed  to  our  dangers,  nor  linked 
with  us  by  any  natural  ties.     We  know 
that  angels  watch  for  the  repentance  of 
sinners  ;  that,  when  the  poorest  of  our 
race  returns,  like  the   prodigal,  to    his 
Father,  a  new  impulse  is  given  to  their 
happiness ;    and    we    cannot    therefore 
doubt,  that,  if  any  one  of  these  glorious 
beings  were  to  be  visible  amongst  us, 
and  to  assume  the  office  of  teacher,  he 
W'(juld  plead  with  such    passionateness 
and  warmth,  and  throw  so  much  of  heart 
into  his  remonstrance,  as  would   leave 
no  room  for  a  suspicion  that  difference 
in  nature    incapacitated    him    for   deep 
sympathy  with  those  to  whom  he  spake. 
But,  to  pass  over  other  and  obvious  con- 
sequences of  the  substitution  of  angels 
for  men  as  preachers  of  Christianity,  it 
is  easy  to  see,  that,  under  such  an  ar- 
rangement, we  should  have  been  apt  to 
lose  sight  of  the  operations  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.     You  find  St.  Paul,  when  speak- 
ing of  the  Gospel  as  intrusted  to  him- 
self and  his  fellow-laborers  in  the  minis- 
try,   saying   to  the    Corinthians,    "  We 
have  this    treasure   in    earthen  vessels, 
that  the  excellency  of  the  power  may 
be  of  God,  and  not  of  us."     He  assigns 
it  you  see,  as  a  reason  why  the  (rospel 
was  committed  to  weak  and  erring  men, 
that  God  might  have  all  the  glory  result- 
ing from  tho'jjublication.     And  undoubt- 


GOD  S  WAY  IN  THE  SANCTUARY. 


409 


edly  the  process  secures  this  result.  If 
God  worked  by  mighty  instruments, 
such  as  angels,  if  the  engines  employed 
were,  to  all  appearance,  adequate  to  the 
ends  to  be  effected ;  the  honor  of  suc- 
cess would  at  least  be  divided,  and  the 
ambassador  might  be  thought  to  have 
helped  forward,  by  his  own  power,  the 
designs  of  him  by  whom  he  had  been 
sent.  But,  as  the  case  now  stands,  the 
services  of  the  sanctuary  all  go  to  the 
demonstrating  the  supremacy  of  God, 
because,  whilst  undoubtedly  instrumen- 
tal to  the  effecting  vast  results,  they 
are  manifestly  insufficient  in  themselves 
for  any  such  achievement. 

And  we  should  like  you  to  add  to 
this,  that,  not  only  does  God  employ 
men  in  preference  to  angels,  but  he 
commonly  acts  through  what  is  weak 
in  men,  and  not  through  what  is  strong. 
It  is  perhaps  a  single  sentence  in  a  ser- 
mon, a  text  which  is  quoted,  a  remark 
to  which,  probably,  if  asked,  the  preach- 
er would  attach  less  importance  than 
to  any  other  part  of  his  discourse,  which 
makes  its  way  into  the  soul  of  an  uncon- 
verted hearer.  We  wish  that  there 
could  be  compiled  a  book  which  should 
register  the  sayings,  the  words,  which, 
falling  from  the  lips  of  preachers  in 
different  ages,  have  penetrated  that 
thick  coating  of  indifference  and  pre- 
iudice  which  lies  naturally  on  every 
man's  heart,  and  reached  the  soil  in 
which  vegetation  is  possible.  We  are 
quite  persuaded  that  you  would  not  find 
many  whole  sermons  in  such  a  book,  not 
many  long  pieces  of  elaborate  reasoning, 
not  many  argumentative  demonstrations 
of  human  danger  and  human  need.  The 
volume  would  be  a  volume,  we  believe, 
of  little  fragments  :  it  would  be  made  up 
of  simple  sentiments  and  brief  state- 
ments :  in  the  majority  of  instances,  a 
few  syllables  would  constitute  the  "  grain 
of  mustard  seed,"  to  which  Christ  him- 
self likened  his  religion  at  the  outset. 
We  are  only  asserting  what  we  reckon 
attested  by  the  whole  tenor  of  ministerial 
experience,  when  we  say  that  sermons 
which  God  honors  to  the  conversion  of 
hearers,  are  generally  effective  in  some 
solitary  paragraph  ;  and  that  the  results 
which  they  produce  may  fairly  be  traced, 
not  to  the  lengthened  oration,  as  a  compact 
and  well-adjusted  engine,  but  to  one  of 
its  assertions,  or  its  remonstrances,  which 
possibly,  had  you  subjected  the  discourse 


to  the  judgment  of  a  critic,  would  have 
been  left  out  as  injurious,  or  at  least  not 
conducive,  to  the  general  effect.  And 
we  know  of  no  more  powerful  evidence 
of  a  fixed  determination  on  the  part  of 
God,  to  humble  man  by  allowing  him 
to  be  nothing  but  an  instrument  in  his 
hands,  than  is  derived  from  this  fact  of 
the  ineffectiveness  of  all  except  perhaps 
one  line  in  a  sermon.  God  will  often- 
times pass  by  it,  as  it  were,  and  set 
aside  an  array'  of  argument  which  has 
been  constructed  with  great  care,  or  a 
stirring  appeal  into  which  has  been  ga- 
thered every  motive  which  seems  cal- 
culated to  rouse  a  dormant  immortali- 
ty, and,  seizing  on  the  sentence  which 
the  speaker  thinks  the  weakest,  or  the 
paragraph  in  which  'there  is  nothing  of 
rhetoric,  will  throw  it  into  the  soul  as 
the  germ  of  a  genuine  and  permanent 
piety.  And  all  this  goes  to  the  making 
good  what  we  are  anxious  to  prove, 
that  the  challenge  in  the  second  clause 
of  our  text  is  altogether  borne  out  by 
the  assertion  in  the  first.  There  is  no 
finer  proof  of  the  power  of  an  author, 
than  that  he  can  compass  great  designs 
by  inconsiderable  means.  If  the  means 
be  great,  we  expect  a  great  effect,  and, 
when  we  find  it,  hardly  count  it  an  evi- 
dence of  the  greatness  of  the  agent. 
But  if  the  means  be  inconsiderable,  and 
the  produced  effect  great,  we  are  lost  in 
admiration,  and  want  terms  in  which  to 
express  our  sense  of  the  might  of  the 
worker. 

Let  us  see  then  how  our  argument 
stands.  What  result  is  greater  than 
that  of  the  renewal  of  human  nature, 
the  transforming  into  a  new  creature  one 
"  borne  in  sin,  and  shapen  in  iniquity  ?  ' 
Where,  in  all  the  compass  of  wonder- 
ful things,  is  a  more  wonderful  to  be 
found  than  the  change  effected  by  con- 
version, or  the  after  and  gradual  pre 
paration  of  man  for  immortality  ]  The 
being  who  is  naturally  the  enemy  of 
God,  averse  from  holiness,  with  affec- 
tions that  fix  exclusively  on  earthly 
things,  is  cast,  as  it  were,  into  a  fresh 
mould,  and  comes  forth  devoted  to  the 
service  of  his  Maker,  desirous  of  con- 
formity to  the  image  of  Christ,  and  pre- 
pared to  act  on  the  conviction  that  here 
he  has  "  no  abiding  city."  He  perse- 
veres through  a  long  scries  of  trials  and 
difficulties,  contending  with  and  con- 
quering various  enemies,   acquiring  in 


404 


god's  way  in  the  sanctuary. 


greater  and  greater  -measure  the  several  I 
graces  which  are  characteristic  of  genu- 
ine faith,  till  at  length,  fully  "  meet  fur  , 
the  inheritance  of  tlie  saints  in  light,"  ^ 
he  enters  "  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death,"  and  presses  through  it  to  glory. 
Yes,  indeed,  it  is  a  vast  achievement. 
Let   us  compare  it  with  the  employed 
instrumentality :    this    will    surely   bear 
some  apparent  proportion  to  the  result. 
"Thy  way.  O  God,  is  in  the  sanctuary." 
We  knowlhat  it  is  by  and  through  certain 
public   ordinances   of  religion  that  thou 
dost  generally  turn  men  to  thyself,  and 
afterwards  strengthen  them  to  persevere 
in  a  heavenward  course.     Then  we  will 
hasten   to  the   sanctuary,  that  we  may 
observe    the    agency    through  which    is 
effected  what  so  much  moves  our  won- 
der.    Surely    we    shall    find     an    angel 
ministering  to  the  people,  the  being  of 
a  higher  sphere,  clothed  in  surpassing 
radiance,  and  discoursing  with  more  than 
mortal  power  on  the  lofty  topics  of  God 
and   his  dealings.     Surely,  if  there  be 
sacraments,     they    will    be    manifestly 
pregnant  with  energy,  stupendous  insti- 
tutions, of  which  it  shall  be  impossible 
to  partake  without  feeling  them  the  ve- 
hicles for  communications  of  grace.  Sure- 
ly, in  some    august    and    ovei-powering 
mode,  by  a  voice  from  the  firmament,  or 
by  rich  visions  of  immortality,  will  God 
make  himself  known  to  his  people,  em- 
ploying means  which  shall  evidently  be 
adapted  to  the  taking  captive  the  whole 
man,  and  persuading  or  forcing  the  soul 
into  an  attitude  of  awful  adoration.     Ah, 
my   brethren,    how    widely    different  is 
what  is  actually  found  in  the  sanctuary. 
God  is  there  workinij  by  sermons  and 
sacraments.     But  the  sei'mons  are  those 
of  a  man  of  like  passions  with  youreelvcs, 
one  irail  and  fallible,  who  has    perhaps 
little  or  no  power  of  enliglitening  your 
understandings,    and   certainly  none    of 
penetrating  your  hearts.    There  is  more- 
over no  proportion  between  his  natural 
abilities    as    a   reasoner  or    a   speaker, 
and   his  success  as  an    ambassador ;  on 
the  contrary,  the  most  honored  is  often, 
to  all  appearance,  the  worst  equipped  ; 
and  even  where  the  man  has  strength,  it 
may  be  said  to  be  through  his  weakness 
that    the  chief  good  is   wrought.     And 
the    sacraments — assuredly  to  a   carnal 
eye  nntliing  can    be    less    commanding 
than  these.     There  is  an  initiat(»ry  sacra- 
mimt,    "  baptism    for   the   remission    ol 


sins;"  but  it  consists  in  nothing  but  the 
pronouncing  a  few  words,  and  the  sprmk- 
ling  a  little  water.  There  is  a  sacrament 
through  which  membership  with  Christ 
is  continued,  and  giace  imparted  for  the 
many  duties  and  trials  of  the  christian  ; 
but  a  morsel  of  bread,  and  a  drop  of 
wine  consecrated  by  the  priest,  and 
received  by  the  believer,  are  all  that  is 
visible  in  the  wondrous  transaction. 
Yes,  by  the  sermons,  not  of  a  glorious 
angel,  but  of  a  sinful  man :  by  sacra- 
ments, not  imprinted  with  signs  of  Divi- 
nity, but  so  simple  and  unostentatious, 
that  they  seem  to  have  no  special  fitness 
for  the  transmission  of  supernatural 
things ;  does  God  gather  out  a  church 
from  the  world,  and  then  train  it  for  im- 
mortality. And  in  this  he  is  great : 
verily,  "  the  excellency  of  the  power  " 
is  of  him  not  of  us.  "  Thy  way,  O  God, 
is  in  the  sanctuary ;"  but  when  we  turn  to 
the  sanctuary,  and  observe  through  what 
a  slight,  and  apparently  incompetent, 
instrumentality  thou  dost  bi'ing  round 
results  which  fill  us  with  amazement, 
we  can  but  adore  thee  in  thine  Al mighti- 
ness ;  we  can  but  exclaim  with  a  voice 
of  reverence  and  rapture,  "  Who  is  so 
great  a  God  as  our  God  ]  " 

Now  we  think  that  in  the  successive 
illustrations  of  our  text  which  have  thus 
been  advanced,  there  has  been  much  to 
suggest  practical  reflections  of  no  com- 
mon worth.  Was  God's  way  in  the 
Jewish  temple  of  old  1  Was  he  passing, 
in  all  the  sacrifices  and  ceremonies  of 
the  temple,  to  the  completion  of  the 
work  of  our  redemption  1  Then  let  us 
not  fail  to  study  with  all  diligence  the 
law :  in  the  law  was  the  germ  or  bud  of 
the  Gospel;  and  it  will  aid  us  much  in 
understanding  the  system  when  fully 
laid  open,  to  examine  it  attentively  whilst 
being  gradually  unfolded.  Christianity, 
after  all,  is  but  Judaism  in  a  more  ad- 
vanced stage;  and  it  must  theiefore  be 
our  wisdom  to  trace  carefully  the  religion 
in  its  progress  towards  perfection,  if  we 
hope  to  comprehend  it  when  that  per- 
fection was  reached.  It  is  true  that 
types  derive  all  their  significance  from 
Christ;  but  it  is  equally  true  that  they 
reflect  the  light  which  they  receive  from 
the  cross,  and  thus  illustrate  the  sacrifice 
by  which  themselves  are  explained. 

Is  it  again  true  that  God's  way  was 
"in  the  sanctuaiy,"  in  the  holy  of  holies, 
that  place  of  dread  secrecy  and  sanctity  1 


god's  way  in  the  sanctuary. 


405 


Then,  as  we  have  already  inferred,  let 
us  be  satisfied  that  God's  dealings  are 
righteous,  however  incomprehensible  : 
we  may  not  be  able  to  explain  them  ; 
for  a  majestic  veil  shrouds  the  place 
in  which  he  works;  but  we  may  be 
confident  that  they  are  ordered  in  holi- 
ness, inasmuch  as  that  place  is  of  un- 
spotted purity. 

And  lastly,  is  God's  way  still  "  in  the 
(sanctuary  1  "  Is  it  in  the  sanctuary,  the 
house  devoted  to  his  service,  that  he 
specially  reveals  himself,  and  communi- 
cates supplies  of  his  grace  1  Shall  we 
not  then  learn  to  set  a  high  worth  on  the 
public  services  of  religion,  to  enter  "the 
courts  of  the  Lord's  house"  in  humility, 
yet  in  hope,  with  holy  fear,  but  never- 
theless with  high  expectation,  as  know- 
ing that  we  are  to  meet  our  Creator, 
but  to  meet  him  as  "  the  God  of  all 
grace  1"  O  for  something  of  the  spirit 
of  the  Psalmist,  "  a  day  in  thy  courts  is 
better  than  a  thousand."  What  rapid 
growth  would  there  be  in  christian 
virtues,  what  knowledge,  what  peace, 
what  joy,  what  assurance,  if  we  had  a 
practical  consciousness  that  God's  way 
*'  is  in  the  sanctuary;"  and  if  we  there- 
fore came  up  to  the  sanctuary  on  purpose 
to  see  him,  and  to  be  cheered  by  his  pre- 
sence. You  find  it  said  of  Hezekiah,  that, 
when  he  had  received  a  threatening  and 
insulting  message. from  the  king  of  Assy- 
ria, he  went  straightway  into  the  house  of 
the  Lord.  He  might  have  sought  guid- 
ance and  comfort  in  his  own  chamber : 
but  he  well  knew  where  God  was  most 
sure  to  be  found,  and  therefore  did  he 
hasten  at  once  to  the  temple.  INIy 
brethren,  let  me  again  say  that  we  mag- 
nify, not  ourselves,  but  our  office.  God 
is  my  witness  that  I  have  no  thought, 
that,  by  any  Avisdom  of  my  own,  by 
skill  as  a  reasoner,  by  force  as  a 
speaker,  or  by  persuasiveness  as  a 
pleader,  I  may  be  able  to  instruct 
you,  to  animate,  or  to  comfort.  We 
will  not  dispute  for  a  moment,  that  you 


may  read  better  sermons  at  home  than 
you  can  hear  in  the  church.  But  the 
difference  between  the  preached  and  tho 
printed  sermon  lies  in  this,  that  preaching 
is  God's  ordinance  and  printing  is  not. 
It  pleases  God  to  save  men  "  by  the  fool- 
ishness of  preaching  ;"  or,  more  accu- 
rately, "  by  the  foolishness  of  the  pro- 
clamation." And  therefore  is  it  that  we 
set  the  pulpit  against  the  press,  and  de- 
clare that  you  are  more  likely  to  be 
benefitted  by  listening  to  the  simplest 
sermon,  delivered  in  great  weakness, 
than  by  studying  the  volumes  of  the  most 
able  divines.  When,  but  not  until,  it 
shall  cease  to  be  true  that  God's  way 
"  is  in  the  sanctuary,"  you  may  hope  to 
find  those  assistances  and  comfoits  in 
more  private  means  of  grace,  which  are 
offered  you  through  public. 

We  scarcely  need  add  that  such  re- 
marks as  these  apply  to  sacraments  as 
well  as  to  sermons.  Yes,  ye  whom  I 
never  see  at  the  table  of  the  Lord,  who 
expect  to  be  nourished  though  ye  con- 
tinually refuse  the  proffered  sustenance, 
we  venture  to  tell  you  that  nothing  can 
supply  to  you  the  want  of  that  which 
you  sinfully  neglect.  I  have  visited 
many,  very  many,  on  their  death-beds, 
persons  of  various  ranks  and  various 
ages.  But  I  never  yet  found  an  individ- 
ual happy  in  the  prospect  of  dissolution, 
who  had  habitually  neglected  the  Lord's 
Supper.  How  should  he  be  1  How 
can  he  be  strong,  if  he  have  lived  with- 
out food]  I  know  that  God,  if  he 
please,  can  work  without  means  :  but, 
when  he  has  instituted  means,  you  have 
no  right  to  expect  that  he  will.  Pie  is 
on  the  mountain  and  on  the  flood,  in  the 
forests,  and  amid  the  stars  :  but  his  way 
"is  in  the  sanctuary ;"  and  if  therefore 
you  would  know  him  as  a  great  God, 
great  to  pardon,  great  to  perfect  for 
immortality,  you  must  seek  him  in  the 
sanctuary,  or  not  wonder  if  he  never  bo 
found. 


SERMON    Xlli. 


EQUITY  OF  THE  FUTURE  RETRIBUTION. 
PHEACHED  at  CAMDEN  chapel,  CAMBERWELL,  DECEiMBER  11,  1836 


**  He  that  is  faithful  in  that  which  is  least  is  faithful  also  in  much  :  and  he  that  is  unjust  in  the  least  is  unjust  alao  im 

much." — Luke  xvi.  10. 


There  is  no  gi-eat  difficulty  in  tracing 
the  connection  between  these  words  and 
those  by  which  they  are  immediately 
preceded.  Our  Lord  had  just  delivered 
the  parable  of  the  unjust  steward,  and 
was  admonishing  his  disciples  to  imitate 
the  prudence,  though  not  the  immorali- 
ty, of  that  unprincipled  character.  "  I  say 
unto  you,  make  to  yourselves  friends  of 
ihe  mammon  of  unrighteousness,  that 
when  ye  fail  they  may  receive  you  into 
everlasting  habitations."  Though  riches 
cannot  purchase  heaven  for  their  posses- 
sor, they  may  be  so  employed  as  to  give 
evidence  of  christian  faith  and  love,  and 
when  thus  used,  they  may  be  said  to  pro- 
vide witnesses  who  will  testify  at  the 
last  to  the  righteousness  of  their  owners. 
The  suffering  and  the  destitute  who  have 
been  relieved  through  the  wealth,  of 
which  christian  principle  has  dictated  the 
application,  may  be  regarded  as  friends 
who  will  appear  in  support  of  their  bene- 
factor, and  prove  his  right  to  admission 
into  the  mansions  prepared  for  those  who 
have  been  faithful  in  their  stewardship. 

But  this  statement  of  Christ  seemed 
applicable  to  none  but  the  rich.  "  Why," 
his  disciples  might  have  asked,  "  admon- 
ish us  to  make  friends  of  the  mammon  of 
unrighteousness,  when  we  have  nothing 
of  this  world's  wealth,  and,  therefore, 
want  the  means  of  obeying  the  injunc- 
tion." It  was  probably  to  meet  this  feel- 
ing, which  he  saw  rising  in  their  minds, 
that  Christ  went  on  to  address  them  in 
the  words  of  our  text,  "  Ye  judge  wrong- 
ly (as  if  he  should  say)  to  conclude  that 
because  poor  and  not  ricii,  you  cannot 
do  that  which  I  have  just  recommended. 
'He   that  is   faithful   in   that   which   is 


least,  is  faithful  also  in  much;'"  so 
that  the  right  use  of  little  may  place  a 
man  in  as  advantageous  a  position  as  tho 
right  use  of  much.  The  question  is  not 
what  amount  of  talent  has  been  intrusted 
to  an  individual,  but  what  has  been  his 
employment  of  such  measure  as  he  had; 
for  if  he  have  had  but  little,  and  have  used 
that  little  ill,  he  is  as  criminal  as  though 
his  powers  had  been  greater,  and  their 
misuse  correspondent  to  their  extent. 
"He  that  is  unjust  in  the  least  is  unjust 
also  in  much." 

It  thus  appears  to  have  been  the  ob- 
ject of  our  Lord  to  inform  his  disciples 
that  their  poverty  would  benohinderance 
to  securinQ:  themselves  the  advantages 
within  reach  of  the  rich ;  and  that  nei- 
ther would  it  furnish  them  with  any  ex- 
cuse for  the  neglect  of  those  duties  whose 
performance  seemed  facilitated  by  the 
possession  of  wealth.  He  makes  his  ap- 
peal to  a  great  principle — whether  in  the 
nature  of  things  or  the  dealings  of  God 
— the  principle  that,  if  a  man  be  faithful 
up  to  the  measure  of  his  ability,  or  un- 
just up  to  the  measure  of  his  ability, 
when  tliat  ability  has  been  small,  it  may 
be  concluded  that  he  would  be  equally 
faitiiful  or  equally  unjust  were  his  abil- 
ity greatly  multiplied,  and  that  therefore 
he  may  be  dealt  with  in  both  cases  as 
though  there  had  been  this  multiplication, 
and  the  correspondent  increase,  whether 
in  fidelity  or  injustice. 

But  though  we  may  easily  trace  the 
bearing  of  Christ's  assertion  on  other  parts 
of  the  chapter,  as  I  have  already  intimat- 
ed, it  is  not  to  be  denied  that  the  princi- 
ple he  announces  is  not  self-evident,  but 
requires  to  be  illustrated  before  it  can  be 


EQUITY  OF  THE  FUTURE  RETRIBUTION. 


407 


received.  Whatever  may  be  said  of  the 
particular  case  of  tlie  einploymerit  of 
wealth,  and  the  equality  tliat  may  be  es- 
tablished between  the  widow,  who  has 
but  two  mites  to  give,  and  the  man  of 
Vast  means,  who  has  thousands  at  liis 
disposal,  there  is  clearly  some  difficulty 
in  understanding,  as  a  general  truth,  that 
to  be  faithful  in  the  least  is  to  be  faithful 
in  much,  and  that  to  be  unjust  in  the 
least  is  to  be  unjust  also  in  much.  At 
all  events,  there  are  certain  limitations 
A'hich  must  be  put  on  the  assertion,  or 
it  must  be  interpreted  with  reference  to 
the  temper  that  is  displayed,  rather  than 
to  the  action  which  may  have  been  per- 
formed. We  can  hardly  question  that 
some  men  who  are  faithful  in  the  least 
would  not  also  be  faithful  in  much. 
The  honesty  which  is  proof  against  temp- 
tation whilst  dishonesty  would  procure 
but  a  trifling  advantan;e,  might  probably 
be  overcome  if  great  gain  were  to  follow  ; 
and,  upon  the  other  hand,  there  might  be 
men,  who,  though  unjust  in  the  least, 
would  not  also  be  unjust  in  the  much  ; 
men  who  think  it  lawful  to  practice  the 
mean  trick,  or  the  contemptible  evasion, 
but  who  would  shun  the  being  engaged 
in  any  great  fraud. 

We  cannot  well  think  that  our  Lord 
designed  to  affirm  that  every  man  who 
proved  himself  faithful  in  little  matters 
would  be  as  sure  to  be  faithful  in  much  ; 
or  that  wherever  there  is  dishonesty  in 
some  trifling  particular,  there  would  be 
as  certainly  dishonesty  if  greater  trust 
were  reposed.  This  would  be  practi- 
cally to  take  no  account  of  the  difl'erent 
strength  of  different  temptations,  or  the 
various  motives  opei'ating  under  difl'er- 
ent circumstances.  But  it  seems  evi- 
dent from  the  connection  which  we  have 
endeavored  to  trace  between  the  text 
and  the  preceding  verses,  that  our  Lord 
'  refers  to  the  estimate  wliich  God  forms 
of  human  actions,  an  estimate  which  is 
made  upon  the  dispositions  which  those 
actions  display,  rather  than  from  the  re- 
lative magnitude  of  the  actions  in  the 
judgment  of  men.  The  man  who  has 
but  little,  but  who  is  as  charitable  as  his 
means  will  allow,  is  placed  by  God  up- 
on the  same  footing  with  another  who 
has  made  an  equally  good  use  of  far 
larger  resources.  The  man  who,  with 
slender  abilities,  has  done  his  utmost 
in  the  cause  of  righteousness,  shall  be 
accounted  with    as    though    his    talents 


had  been  considerable,  and  his  employ- 
ment of  them  had  been  wholly  in  the 
service  of  God.  And,  upon  the  other 
hand,  he  who  fails  to  improve  the  little 
which  he  has,  shall  incur  the  same  con- 
demnation as  though  the  little  had  been 
much.  This,  we  say,  apj)cars  the  scope 
of  the  assertion  of  our  I^ord.  He  is  not 
actually  to  be  understood  as  affirming 
that  wherever  there  was  faithfulness  in 
the  little,  there  would  assuredly  be  in 
the  much  ;  or  that  injustice  in  the  largest 
transactions  must  necessarily  follow  up- 
on injustice  in  the  least.  There  are,  in 
deed,  senses  and  degrees  in  which  even 
this  assertion  may  be  substantiated,  and 
we  shall  probably  find  occasion  to  refer 
to  these  hereafter ;  but  we  think  it  evi- 
dent, from  the  context,  that  our  Lord's 
chief  design  was  to  state  that  men  with 
very  different  powers  and  opportunities 
might  occupy  precisely  the  same  posi- 
tion in  God's  sight,  and  that,  consequent- 
ly, it  would  not  necessarily  be  any  dis- 
advantage to  the  poor  man  that  he  was 
so  far  behind  the  other  in  the  ability  to 
do  good.  The  verse  on  wliich  we  are 
discoursing  must  be  classed  with  those 
passages  which  affirm,  in  one  way  or 
another,  that  the  different  circumstances 
iu  which  men  are  placed,  their  different 
capabilities  and  resources,  as  members 
of  society,  will  not  necessarily  affect 
their  future  condition.  Those  who  have 
been  the  highest,  and  those  who  have 
been  the  lowest  upon  earth,  may  ulti- 
mately receive  precisely  the  same  re- 
compense, because  God  will  judge  each 
man  by  his  employment  of  what  he  had, 
without  reference  to  whether  it  were 
little,  or  whether  it  were  much.  It  will 
be  our  business  to  endeavor  to  illustrate 
the  text,  when  thus  considered,  as  an- 
nouncing a  great  principle  in  the  Divine 
dealings  with  our  race.  Of  course,  ob- 
jections may  be  raised  to  the  equity  or 
the  justice  of  such  a  procedure  as  is 
here  ascribed  to  God,  and  these  we  must 
labor  to  remcive. 

But  we  shall,  probably,  embrace  what- 
ever is  necessary  for  the  explanation  or 
the  defence  of  the  principle  now  brought 
under  review,  if  we  endeavor  to  show 
you,  in  the  Jirst  place,  that  the  being 

UNJUST  IN  THE  LITTLE  FURNISHES  A 
STRONG  GROUND  FOR  A  MAN's  BEING 
DEALT     WITH    AS    THOUGH     HE    HAD    BEEN 

UNJUST  IN  THE  MUCH  ;  and,  in  the  second 

place,    THAT     MERCV    DOES    NO    VIOLENCE 


408 


EQUITY  OF  THE  FUTURE  RETRIBUTION. 


TO  EQUITY,  IF  FAITHFULNESS  IN  THE 
LEAST  BE  RECOMPENSED  IN  THE  SAME 
MANNER  AS  FAITHFULNESS  IN  THE   MUCH. 

Now  we  will  go  back  at  once  to  the 
first  entrance  of  evil,  and  examine  liow 
the  principle  of  the  text  was  acted  upon 
in  tlie  case  of  the  common  parents  of 
human  kind.  We  are  well  aware  that 
it  was  only,  to  all  appearance,  in  a  very 
slight  particular  that  Adam  was  unfaith- 
ful, and  we  are  equally  aware  that  he 
could  not  not  have  incurred  a  heavier 
condemnation  had  his  sin  been  in  all 
human  calculation  of  most  surpassing 
enormity.  And  it  is  a  question  often 
put,  whether  it  were  quite  what  we 
should  expect  from  such  a  Being  as 
God,  that  a  punishment  should  have 
been  inflicted  ajiparently  so  dispropor- 
tionate to  the  offence,  and  that  for  a 
fault  which  seemed  so  slight  as  that  of 
merely  eating  the  forbidden  fruit,  there 
should  have  come  down  upon  our  fore- 
father a  vengeance  which  could  not  have 
been  increased,  whatever  had  been  the 
crime.  It  is  evident  that  the  principle 
here  acted  upon  is  the  principle  of  the 
text ;  and  that  Adam,  because  he  was 
unjust  in  the  least,  was  dealt  with  as 
though  he  had  been  unjust  in  the  much. 
Was  this  at  all  at  variance  with  the 
known  attributes  of  God  ?  The  question 
which  we  have  thus  stated,  conveys  at 
least  a  suspicion  that  it  was ;  but  that 
suspicion  must  disappear  upon  iiiore 
careful  examination.  We  readily  admit 
that  it  was  but  a  slight  trial  to  which 
Adam  was  exposed,  but  not  that  it  was 
a  slight  sin  which  Adam  committed. 
The  fact  that  the  trial  was  but  slight,  is 
utterly  inconsistent  with  the  supposition 
that  the  sin  was  but  small :  for,  it  is  evi- 
dent, that  the  slighter  the  trial,  the  less 
the  excuse  in  case  of  failure ;  and  that 
the  less  the  excuse,  the  greater  the 
guilt.  The  whole  question  to  be  decided, 
in  the  instance  of  Adam,  was  whether 
he  would  or  would  not,  obey  God  ;  and 
it  was  only  giving  him  every  possible 
advantage  to  make  the  trial  of  his  obedi- 
ence on  a  particular  apparently  the  most 
inconsiderable.  If  the  trial  had  been 
made  on  some  far  greater  ])arlicular, 
we  should  certainly  have  heard  of  the 
strength  of  the  temptation,  and  the  very 
objection  that  is  now  urged  against  the 
equity  of  the  sentence  would  have  been 
still  urged,  upon  the  princijile  that  the 
creature  had   been  tasked    beyond    his 


powers  of  resistance.  So  that  nothing 
can  be  more  unfair  than  the  dwelling  on 
what  is  thought  the  smallness  of  Adam's 
sin.  It  is  worthy  of  nothing  but  the 
most  determined  scepticism,  to  talk  of 
the  insignificancy  of  eating  the  forbidden 
fruit,  as  though  it  had  been  for  the  action 
in  itself,  and  not  for  the  action,  as  a  test 
of  obedience,  that  our  common  father 
incurred  the  loss  of  God's  favor.  The 
action  in  itself  was  in  the  strictest  sense 
indifferent,  neither  morally  good,  nor 
morally  bad  ;  but  the  moment  the  action 
was  made  the  test  of  ol.iedience  it  ac- 
quired an  importance  which  could  not 
be  exceeded.  The  very  circumstance 
of  its  being  in  itself  so  inconsiderable, 
did  but  enhance  the  immeasurable  crimi- 
nality of  its  being  committed.  If  we 
allow  that,  up  to  the  instant  of  prohibition, 
Adam  might  have  plucked  and  eaten  the 
fruit  without  doing  the  least  wrong,  this 
interferes  not  with  the  argument  that 
the  instant  the  prohibition  was  issued, 
what  had  been  before  indifferent  became 
incalculably  criminal.  Nay,  as  we  have 
just  said,  it  does  but  enhance  the  crimi- 
nality; for  this  only  goes  to  the  proving 
that  God  subjected  man  to  the  slightest 
possible  trial ;  and,  beyond  all  question, 
what  proves  the  slightness  of  the  trial, 
proves  equally  the  greatness  of  his 
guilt.  Therefore,  we  know  not  with  what 
show  of  fairness  it  can  be  objected,  that 
there  was  any  evident  disproportion  be- 
tween the  first  offence  and  the  punish- 
ment which  it  provoked.  Unless  you 
can  show  that  it  would  have  been  unjust 
in  God  to  have  punished  any  action  of 
disobedience  with  death,  you  certaiidy 
cannot  show,  that,  in  regard  to  the  eating 
the  forbidden  fruit,  there  was  not  as 
thorough  a  disobedience  in  this  case  as 
there  could  have  been  in  any,  perhaps, 
less  excusable.  So  that  it  is  only  saying 
that  no  case  can  be  imagined  which 
might  be  justly  punished,  to  say  that  the 
incurred  vengeance  was  greater  than 
Adam's  sin  deserved.  Men  may  argue 
then  that  Adam  was  unjust  in  the  least, 
but  this  affects  not  the  equity  of  his 
having  been  dealt  with  as  though  he  had 
been  unjust  in  the  much.  He  had  been 
made  to  pass  through  the  gentlest  trust, 
and  exposed  to  the  smallest  possible 
amount  of  temptation,  and  nevertheless 
he  failed  ;  he  was  found  wanting  upon 
trial,  and  was  speedily  overcome  by 
temptation.     Does  not  this   undeniably 


EQUITY  OP  THE  FUTURE  RETRIBUTION. 


409 


prove,  tliat,  had  the  trial  been  greater 
and  tlic  temptation  stronger,  be  would 
have  been  equally  found  disobedient  to 
his  God  ]  By  failing  in  the  least,  he 
irresistibly  showed  that  he  would  have 
failed  in  the  much ;  and  thus  was  his 
eating  the  forbidden  fruit  irresistible 
evidence  that  there  would  have  been 
the  same  unfaithfulness  had  God  ap- 
pointed a  higher  test  of  his  criminality. 
So  that  if  you  can  imagine  to  yourselves 
more  heinous  sins  which  Adam  might 
have  committed — if  you  will  suppose 
him  violating  commandments  of  a  loftier 
and  more  severe  kind  than  that  which 
he  actually  infringed,  you  do  not  convict 
him  of  any  delinquency  of  which  he 
may  not  be  convicted,  on  the  evidence 
of  what  you  think  his  inconsiderable 
offence.  Unfallen  as  he  then  was,  the 
only  thing  to  be  tried  was  his  obedience; 
and  to  disobey  in  the  smallest  point  was 
to  show  himself  ready  to  set  his  own 
will  on  all  points  in  opposition  to  God's. 
And,  therefore,  we  think,  there  was  the 
most  accurate  proportion  between  what 
Adam  did,  and  what  Adam  suffered. 
He  had  done  the  worst  thing  which 
could  be  done  in  his  circumstances  ;  and 
therefore  he  deserved  the  worst  that 
could  be  awarded  to  transgression.  Yea, 
and  if  other  orders  of  beings,  spectators 
of  what  occurred  in  this  new  province  of 
creation,  had  wondered  that  results  so 
disastrous  should  follow  upon  what  ap- 
peared so  trifling  an  action,  and  to  have 
demanded  whether  it  consisted  with 
the  known  attributes  of  their  Maker, 
that  vengeance  so  tremendous  should 
overtake  the  doer,  it  would  have  been 
enough  to  have  reminded  them  that, 
situated  as  Adam  was,  the  eating  of  the 
fruit  was  to  wage  war  with  God  ;  and 
they  would  have  found  all  their  surprise 
removed,  by  observing,  that  more  hein- 
ous crimes  were  so  involved  in  what 
seemed  the  less,  that  it  was  truly  equit- 
able to  deal  with  men  upon  the  principle, 
that  "  he  that  is  unjust  in  the  least  is  un- 
just also  in  much." 

And  we  have  no  right  to  limit  the 
application  of  the  principle.  From  the 
mode  in  which  it  is  announced  by  the 
Savior,  we  must  conclude  that  it  is  gfene- 
rally  acted  upon  by  God  in  dealings 
with  men.  We  pass,  therefore,  from 
Adam  to  ourselves,  and  we  inquire  into 
the  equity  of  being  dealt  with,  if  unjust 
in  the  least,  as  though  we  had  been  un- 


just in  the  much.  We  have  already 
said,  that  men  would  not  be  warranted 
in  drawing  the  inference  which  the  text 
seems  to  draw ;  that  they  would  not, 
that  is,  be  always  justified  in  concluding, 
that  if  an  individual  had  been  found 
unfaithful  in  some  trifling  particular,  he 
would  necessarily  be  so,  if  greater  trusts 
should  be  given  into  his  keeping.  Yet 
the  admission  which  we  thus  make  re- 
quires to  be  guarded.  It  is  rather  be- 
cause many  considerations  of  prudence 
and  policy  might  operate  to  the  keeping 
a  man  faithful  in  much,  than  because  we 
repose  any  confidence  in  his  honesty, 
that  we  would  trust  him  after  proving 
him  unjust  in  the  least.  We  have  so 
far  a  belief  in  the  rigid  applicabilty  of 
the  test,  that  we  reckon  that  he  who  can 
be  unjust  in  the  matter  of  a  penny  would 
also  be  unjust  in  the  largest  transactions, 
if  there  were  stronger  temptations  and 
stronger  security  against  being  detected. 
There  is  an  end  at  once  to  all  our  con- 
fidence in  the  integrity  of  an  individual, 
the  moment  we  ascertain  that  he  has 
knowingly  defrauded  us  of  a  solitary 
farthing,  and  though  we  might  after- 
wards trust  him  with  large  suras,  and 
allow  him  great  power  over  our  pro- 
perty, yet  would  it  not  be  from  any 
persuasion  that  he  might  be  safely  de- 
pended on,  but  solely  from  a  feeling  that 
the  motives  to  honesty  were  stronger 
than  the  motives  to  dishonesty,  and  that 
it  was  so  much  for  the  man's  interest  to 
be  faithful  that  we  ran  no  risk  in  em- 
ploying his  agency.  This  is  virtually 
the  true  account  of  the  greatest  part  of 
that  apparent  confidence,  which  gives  so 
fine  an  aspect  to  the  transactions  of  a 
mercantile  community.  You  observe, 
what  has  all  the  air  of  a  most  unbounded 
trust  in  liuman  integrity;  so  that  pro- 
perty is  shipped  and  consigned  from  one 
land  to  another,  without  the  least  mis- 
giving as  to  the  honor  of  the  various 
persons  through  whose  hands  it  must 
pass.  It  would  hardly  be  possible,  if 
wickedness  were  really  purged  from 
the  world,  so  that  the  man  could  not  be 
found  who  would  wilfully  wrong  his 
fellow-men,  it  would  hardly  be  possible 
to  give  to  our  commercial  dealings  a 
franker  and  more  cordial  appearance — 
an  appearance  which  might  more  per- 
suade an  observer  of  the  general  preva- 
lence of  an  acknowledged  trust-worthi- 
ness. We  believe  there  can  be  no 
52 


410 


EQUITY  OF  THE  PrTURE  RETRIBUTION. 


question,  that  all  this  is  to  be  chiefly 
referred  to  the  consciousness  that  it  is 
vastly  for  man's  interest  that  they  should 
deal  honestly  with  each  other.  If  society 
could  be  brought  into  such  a  condition 
that  the  temptations  to  dishonesty  should 
be  far  stronger  than  the  inducements  to 
honesty,  or  that  the  risk  and  consequence 
of  being  detected  in  fraudulent  dealings 
had  become  wholly  inconsiderable,  in 
place  of  being  what  they  are,  too  great 
to  be  encountered,  except  by  the  most 
daring — why,  we  should  soon  Hnd  almost 
universal  suspicion  succeeding  to  the 
present  universal  confidence,  and  men 
now  content  with  insuring  against  ship- 
wreck, would  be  more  in  fear  of  one 
another,  than  of  the  rock  or  the  tempest. 
So  that  it  is  not  through  the  known 
prevalence  of  integrity  that  merchants 
feel  so  safe  in  making  their  various  dis- 
tant consignment;^ ;  still  less  is  it  through 
any  idea  that  injustice  in  the  least  is  no 
argument  for  injustice  in  the  much,  that 
the  man  who  will  drive  a  hard  bargain, 
or  over-reach  a  customer,  or  practice 
some  deception  of  which  the  law  takes 
no  notice,  is  yet  intrusted  by  others  with 
large  fractions  of  their  property.  Much 
of  the  virtue  which  is  in  the  world  is 
due  to  nothing  but  the  not  being  temp- 
ted ;  and,  perhaps,  yet  more  of  the 
nonesty  is  owing  to  the  strictness  of  the 
laws  rather  than  of  principles.  Though, 
as  we  have  said,  we  do  not  always  in 
practice  conclude  that  he  that  is  unjust 
in  the  least  would  be  unjust  also  in  the 
much,  we  certainly  have  no  farther  con- 
fidence in  him  than  we  derive  from  the 
statute-book  of  the  land.  If  we  feel  sure 
that  he  will  not  commit  a  great  fraud, 
it  is  only  because  we  believe  the  dread 
of  legal  process  will  fill  effectually  the 
place  cf  a  fine  and  ever-active  conscience. 
So  that  it  is  after  all  a  great  recognition 
among  ourselves  of  the  principle  that 
he  that  is  unjust  in  the  least  is  unjust 
also  in  much.  It  is  not  a  recognition 
which  is  evidenced  by  our  refusing  to 
put  any  thing  in  the  power  of  the  indi- 
vidual whtun  we  suspect  or  have  con- 
victed of  the  contemptible  trick,  or  the 
dishonorable  evasion  ;  but  it  is  a  recog- 
nition which  is  evidenced  by  the  reasons 
by  which  we  justify  to  ourselves  any  after 
confidence  in  the  man — reasons  which 
are  invariably  fetched  from  the  defences 
and  securities,  as  we  think  them — pro- 
vided for  us  by  the  laws  of  the  land,  and 


not  in  any  degree  from  that  moral  recti- 
tude and  firmness,  which  wheresoever 
they  exist,  constitute  a  safeguard  which 
cannot  be  equalled. 

And  to  go  yet  farther  than  this.  We 
never  feel  much  surprised  if  an  individual 
who  proved  himself  not  over  scrupulous 
in  little  things,  be  at  tength  detected  in 
some  great  act  of  dishonesty.  The 
tradesman,  of  whom  we  have  reason  to 
believe  that  he  would  use  a  false  balance, 
or  palm  off  an  inferior  article  on  his  cus- 
tomers— why,  I  never  am  unprepared  foi 
hearing,  that  he  has  brought  liimsclf  with 
in  the  reach  of  the  law  by  some  flagrant 
attempt  to  enrich  himself  at  other  men's 
cost.  And  the  merchant,  of  whom  I 
can  once  ascertain  that  he  has  soiled 
his  hands  with  dishonorable  profit,  out- 
witting other  men,  taking  undue  advan- 
tage, though  not  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
expose  himself  to  the  censures  of  the 
law — it  never  amazes  me  to  be  told  that 
he  has  utterly  lost  all  his  credit,  and  that 
he  has  been  guilty  of  frauds  that  must 
make  him  an  outcast.  If  I  felt  any 
surprize,  it  would  only  be  that  I  had 
thought  him  too  shrewd  and  too  politic 
to  venture  so  far,  and  because  I  had 
calculated  on  his  prudence,  though  not 
on  his  principle.  I  am  so  ready  in 
practice  to  admit  that  injustice  in  the 
least  argues  that  there  will  be  injustice 
in  the  much,  that  I  hear  nothinti:  more 
than  I  myself  could  have  predicted, 
when  infijrmed,  that  he  who  was  at  one 
time  merely  a  pilferer,  and  a  defrauder 
in  things  which  could  not  be  noticed, 
has  become,  as  his  trade  or  his  expert- 
ness  increased,  a  thorough  master  in 
cheating,  and  made  himself  infamous  by 
the  boldness  and  extent  of  his  frauds. 

It  is  farther  worth  your  observing 
how  accurately  the  assertion  of  the  text 
is  verified  and  substantiated  in  regard  to 
the  use  made  of  wealth.  This  is  the 
case  to  which  Christ  specially  refers, 
and  which  ought  not,  therefore,  to  pass 
without  some  share  of  remark.  If  a  man 
have  been  illiberal,  and  shown  a  want  of 
christian  charity  whilst  his  income  was 
small,  what  will  ordinarily  be  the  effect 
of  an  increase  in  his  income?  Why,  to 
make  him  yet  more  illiberal  and  un- 
charitable. The  instances  of  this  are 
very  curious,  but  quite  frequent  enough 
to  press  themselves  upf)n  the  attention 
of  any  ordinary  obsei'ver.  If  a  man 
have    d(jne  what  he    could    with  small 


IQUITY  OP  THE  FUTURE  RETRIBUTION. 


411 


means,  and  distributed  of  the  little  to 
those  yet  more  straitened,  you  will  ordi- 
narily find  that  with  the  increase  in  his 
means  there  will  be  an  increase  of  his 
charities.  So  that  proof  is  afforded  that 
he  that  is  faithful  in  the  least  is  faithful 
also  in  the  much.  But  exactly  the  re- 
verse takes  place  when  a  niggardly  and 
churlish  man  gains  an  accession  of  pro- 
perty ;  even  his  household  ariangements 
will  be  often  on  a  less,  rather  than  on  a 
more,  liberal  scale  than  before  ;  and  if 
he  be  parsimonious  in  his  family,  we 
may  well  expect  that  he  will  not  be 
more  openhanded  with  others.  And  we 
think  it  quite  to  be  accounted  for  on 
natural  principles,  why  an  increase  in 
his  income  should  thus  produce  an  in- 
crease in  pcnuriousness.  So  long  as  his 
income  is  little  more  than  adequate  to 
the  wants  of  his  family,  there  is  no  power 
of  accumulation ;  the  little  that  can  be 
saved,  with  even  rigid  economy,  is 
scarcely  worth  laying  by,  and  the  man 
may,  perhaps,  therefore,  be  ready  to 
bestow  it  in  charity.  But  so  soon  as 
his  income  is  more  than  adequate  to  his 
wants,  the  power  of  accumulation  is 
possessed,  and  every  farthing  which  can 
be  saved  may  go  to  increase  the  store, 
which  is  more  doated  on  as  being  the 
object  of  a  new  passion,  or  the  produce 
of  a  new  ability.  Thus  what  now  re- 
mains over  and  above  the  necessary  ex- 
penditure is  worth  being  invested  as  capi- 
tal, and  the  possessor  will  grudge  the  least 
gift  to  the  poor,  as  being  so  much  with- 
drawn from  his  hoard.  But  so  long  as  the 
surplus  was  too  inconsiderable  to  be 
converted  into  capital,  it  was  squandered 
on  superfluities,  or,  perhaps,  in  some  fit 
of  generosity,  bestowed  upon  the  neces- 
sitous. And  so  it  comes  to  pass,  that 
where  there  has  been  no  real  principle 
of  charity,  whilst  the  means  were  con- 
tracted, there  will  often  be  even  less  of 
the  appearance  when  those  means  are 
enlarged ;  and  that  the  man  whose  pov- 
erty has  been  made  an  excuse  for  his 
doing  nothing  f  jr  the  destitute — though 
if  he  had  really  loved  God  he  would 
have  found  opportunities  of  showing  it 
—manifests  the  same  illiberality  when 
he  has  ample  power  in  his  hands.  And 
what  then  does  he  do  but  irresistibly 
prove  with  how  great  truth  it  may 
be  concluded  that  "he  that  is  unjust  in 
the  least "  will  be  "  unjust  also  in 
much?" 


Now  we  have  made  this  statement  as 
to  the  degree  in  which  this  princi})le  in 
question  is  recognized,  even  among  our- 
selves, in  order  that  they  may  be  better 
prepared  for  its  thorough  introduction 
into  God's  dealings  with  our  race.  If, 
with  all  our  short-sightedness  and  im- 
perfection of  judgment,  we  find  cause  to 
conclude  that,  where  there  is  injustice 
in  the  meanest  particular,  there  will  be 
equal  injustice  in  the  greatest,  provided 
only  there  were  a  concurrence  of  power 
and  opportunity,  we  cannot  marvel  that 
God,  who  reads  the  heart,  and  observes 
all  its  undeveloped  tendencies,  should 
visit  a  man  unfaithful  in  the  least  with 
the  same  vengeance  as  another  unfaithful 
in  the  much.  An  inconsiderable  act 
may  furnish  as  good  evidence  of  the 
disposition  as  the  most  monstrous.  He 
who  has  but  small  powers  of  defrauding, 
and  defrauds  to  the  amount  of  a  penny, 
gives  as  thorough  a  demonstration  of  the 
want  of  all  principle,  as  another,  who 
under  a  different  temptation,  forges  a 
name,  and  thereby  gains  a  thousand 
pounds.  And,  if  it  be  the  same  demon- 
stration of  the  want  of  principle,  it  is 
quite  to  be  expected  that,  when  the  two 
appear  at  the  tribunal  of  God,  they  will 
be  accounted  equally  unjust,  the  differ- 
ence in  the  act  being  altogether  owing 
to  the  difference  in  circumstances, and  not 
a  jot  to  the  difference  in  the  staple  of 
character.  Yet  when  once  we  take  it 
as  a  maxim  in  the  Divine  dealings,  that 
he  that  is  unjust  in  the  least  is  unjust 
also  in  much,  we  seem  fuinished  with 
a  principle  of  judgment  which  will  be 
applicable  in  the  case  of  earth's  re- 
motest families,  and  every  individual, 
whatsoever  his  condition. 

Let  us  for  a  moment  combine  the 
two  clauses  of  the  text,  and  there  can 
be  no  difficulty  in  understanding  how 
those  who  had  the  least  moral  advan- 
tages maybe  placed  hereafter  on  a  foot- 
ing with  those  who  have  had  the  great- 
est. If  faithfulness  in  the  least  furnish 
a  sufficient  index  as  to  faithfulness  in 
the  much,  and  injustice  in  the  least,  as 
injustice  in  the  much,  then  will  there  be 
as  accurate  tests  to  which  to  bring  the 
conduct  of  the  heathen  as  the  conduct  of 
the  christian  ;  that  of  those  who  have 
enjoyed  but  few  rr.eans  of  grace,  as  of 
others  on  whom  they  were  bestowd  ia 
profusion.  We  are  of  couri'e  certain 
that  where  much  has  been  given  more 


il2 


EQUITY  OF  THE  FUTURE  RETRIBUTION. 


will  be  required  ,  and  we  cannot,  there- 
fore, suppose  that  as  great  an  amount 
of  condemnation  will  be  incurred  by 
those  who  have  not  heard  the  Gospel, 
as  by  those  who  have  heard  it,  and  de- 
spised it. 

Yet  the  principle  asserted  in  our  text 
appears  to  bring  the  two  much  neai'er 
to  an  equality  than  we  have  been  ac- 
customed to  place  them.  At  all  events, 
it  goes  the  length  of  asserting,  that  as 
good  ground  may  be  furnished  for  the 
condemnation  of  the  heathen,  by  his  hav- 
ing been  unjust  in  the  little,  as  for  that 
of  the  christian,  by  his  having  been  un- 
just in  the  much.  The  heathen  may 
say  at  last,  "  I  had  but  kw  advantages," 
but  the  reply  will  be,  that  his  non-im- 
provement of  those  few  is  as  conclusive 
against  him  as  would  have  been  his  non- 
improvement  of  the  many.  He  had  the 
relics  of  traditio;i ;  the  lingering  traces 
of  patriarchal  religion,  which  have  ne- 
ver been  wholly  obliterated  from  among 
the  most  savage  and  ignorant  of  human 
kind.  He  had  the  foot-prints  of  Deity 
visible  in  all  the  scenes  by  which  he  was 
encompassed,  and,  yet  more,  he  had  with- 
in himself  the  witness  of  conscience — 
that  monitor  which  is  found  in  the  low- 
est depths  of  degradation,  and  which 
never  ceases  to  lift  an  impassioned  voice 
in  support  of  the  truth,  that  there  is  a 
righteous  moral  Governor.  Though  man 
may  have  almost  debased  himself  to  a 
level  with  the  brute  by  superstition,  and 
yet  more  by  vice,  and  though  all  this 
may  be  but  little,  when  compared  with 
the  abundant  privileges  which  belong 
to  those  on  whom  falls  the  rich  light  of 
revelation — nevertheless,  if  the  heathen 
have  oeen  unfaithful  in  this  little,  he 
will  have  no  right  to  complain  that  no- 
thing more  was  vouchsafed,  and  he  will 
not  be  able  to  assert  the  probability 
that,  if  unfaithful  in  the  least,  he  would 
have  been  faithful  in  the  much.  The 
probability  is  all  the  other  way;  for  it 
is  by  and  through  conscience  that,  un- 
der every  dispensation,  the  Spirit  of 
the  living  God  continues  its  strivings 
with  man ;  and  if  conscience  plead  in 
vain,  then,  whatever  the  dispensation, 
evidence  is  given  that  its  means  of  grace 
will  not  be  effectual,  and  therefore  might 
the  inference  be  fairly  drawn,  tliat  hav- 
ing been  unjust  in  the  least,  the  heathen 
would  also  be  unjust  in  the  much;  and, 
80  far  from  having  a  right  to  plead  in 


extenuation  of  bis  wickedness  the  want 
of  christian  advantages,  he  may  even  be 
taxed  with  the  neglect  of  those  advan- 
tages, inferred  from  his  neglect  of  what 
were  actually  bestowed  In  like  manner 
we  deny  not  that  in  a  christian  commun- 
ity there  are  very  different  trusts  deposit- 
ed by  God  with  different  men.  Whilst 
one  has  the  benefit  of  religious  instruc- 
tion from  his  very  infancy,  and  has  been 
endowed  with  large  talents,  and  placed 
in  a  sphere  where  he  might  act  a  con- 
spicuous part  as  a  fiervant  of  God,  an- 
other has  been  cradled  in  ifinorance, 
and  apparently  debarred  by  his  very  con- 
dition from  acquiring  much  of  Christi- 
anity for  himself,  and  yet  more  from  im- 
parting it  to  others  ;  and  we  do  not  sup- 
pose of  these  men,  that,  if  both  are  con- 
demned, they  will  be  condemned  with 
the  same  condemnatif)n ;  but  we  do  sup- 
pose, on  the  principle  of  the  text,  that 
the  man  who  has  been  tried  only  in  a 
little,  will  have  no  right  to  complain  that 
he  was  not  tried  in  the  much  ;  and  more, 
we  should  conclude,  thatit  might,  with 
the  most  thorough  justice,  be  inferred, 
that,  having  been  unfaithful  in  the  least, 
he  would  have  been  equally  unfaithful  in 
the  much.  It  will  be  owing  to  nothing  but 
the  exercise  of  Divine  goodness  that  he 
receives  not  the  very  same  punishment 
for  his  unfaithfulness  in  the  little,  as  will 
be  awarded  to  the  other  for  his  unfaith- 
fulness in  much,  seeing:  that  he  has  sriven 
decisive  evidence  of  a  disposition,  which 
would  have  made  him  unfaithful,  what- 
ever the  amount  committed  to  his  keep- 
ing. So  that  by  just  the  same  argu- 
ment— which  we  ourselves  are  wont  to 
maintain  when  we  reason  from  dishon- 
esty in  a  trifle  to  a  fundamental  want  of 
principle,  which  would  produce,  under 
any  other  circumstances,  dishonesty  of 
the  most  daring  kind — may  we  conclude 
God  would  deal  only  righteously,  if  he 
treated  a  man,  unlawful  in  the  least,  as 
though  he  had  been  unlawful  in  much. 
Yea,  we  can  pass  from  our  own  decisions, 
and  our  own  inferences,  when  the  mat- 
ter in  question  is  simply  the  estimate 
which  may  be  formed  of  a  man,  suppo- 
sing him  intrusted  with  much,  from 
what  he  has  shown  himself  when  in- 
trusted with  little.  Apply  our. reason- 
ing to  the  case  of  the  final  judgment  of 
different  nations  and  different  conditions  : 
and,  as  there  goes  up  to  the  tribunal  the 
pagan,  who  never  heard  the  Gospel  of 


EQUITY  OF  THE  FUTURE  RETRIBUTION. 


413 


Jesus,  he  is  followed  by  the  christian, 
to  whom  God  spake  in  these  last  days 
by  his  Son  ;  and  as  the  man  of  large  ta- 
lents, of  unbounded  means,  and  of  un- 
limited privilege,  stands  side  by  side 
with  another,  unto  whom  has  been  allot- 
ted the  very  lowest  of  moral  advantages, 
and  tlie  very  lowest  opportunities  of  do- 
ing God  service,  you  wonder  how  men 
so  diHerently  circumstanced,  can  be 
equitably  brought  to  the  same  trial. 
Why  we  feel  that  we  announce  to  you 
a  principle,  on  which  the  judgment  may 
justly  proceed,  whatever  the  diversities 
of  character  and  of  condition,  when  we 
simply  quote  to  you  the  latter  clause  of 
the  text — "  He  that  is  unjust  in  the  least 
is  unjust  also  in  much." 

Now  you  will  hardly  fail  to  perceive 
that,  throughout  all  this  labored  illus- 
tration of  principle,  we  have  not  ven- 
tured to  affirm  that  unfaithfulness  in  the 
least  will  be  as  severely  visited  as  un- 
faithfulness in  much  ;  but  only  that  the 
one  furnishes  as  good  evidence  of  cha- 
racter as  the  other,  so  that  deficiency 
of  means  will  be  no  excuse  for  defi- 
ciency in  improvement.  We  have  not 
ventured  to  go  further  than  this,  because 
we  know,  that  it  is  to  be  more  tolerable 
for-Sodom  and  Gomorrah  in  the  day  of 
judgment  than  for  Chorazin  and  Beth- 
saida — for  those,  that  is,  who  have  been 
unjust  in  the  least,  than  for  those  who 
have  been  unjust  in  inuch.  But  this  is, 
probably,  owing,  in  the  main,  to  the 
great  mercy  of  God,  though  there  may 
be  cases  in  which  he  distinctly  knows, 
and  will  act  on  the  knowledge,  that  those 
who  have  been  unfaithful  in  the  least 
would  have  repented  in  sackcloth  and 
ashes,  had  they  been  favored  with  much. 
Unfaithfulness  in  little  is  so  strong  in 
evidence  in  general  that  there  would  be 
unfaithfulness  in  much,  that  we  do  not 
believe  that  it  would  be  at  variance  with 
justice,  that  if  he  who  has  exhibited  the 
one  were  dealt  with  in  precisely  the 
same  maimer  as  if  he  had  exhibited  the 
other;  and,  if  not  at  variance  with  jus- 
tice, we  ascribe  exclusively  to  the  mercy 
of  God,  that  there  is  to  be  the  gentler 
punishment,  where  there  has  been  the 
least  of  ])rivilege.  So  that  a  man  is  to 
have,  as  it  were,  the  benefit  of  the  sup- 
position, that  he  might  have  been  faith- 
ful in  much,  though  he  has  been  unfaith 
ful  in  the  least. 

But  if  it  be  necessary  thus  to   limit 


the  application  of  the  second  clause  of 
the  text,  in  order  to  preserve  its  con- 
sistency with  other  portion.s  of  Scripture, 
there  is,  in  each  instance,  no  respect  to 
the  person  ;  for  we  propose  to  show  you, 
in  the  last  place,  that  mercy  docs  no  vio- 
lence to  eqidty  if  faithj Illness  in  the  least 
he  recompensed  hi  the  same  measure  as 
faithfulness  in  the  much. 

Hitherto  we  have  engaged  you  with 
the  case  of  unfaithfulness  in  the  least ; 
and  our  object  has  been  to  show  you 
that  it  might  justly  be  dealt  with  as 
though  it  had  been  unfaithfulness  in 
much,  however  God  in  His  mercy  may 
extend  to  it  a  less  severe  measure.  But 
we  now  come  to  the  case  of  faithfulness 
in  the  least,  and  here  the  testimony  of 
the  Holy  Scriptures  is  in  favor  of  the 
unrestricted  application  of  the  text,  and 
of  our  holding  and  affirming  that  God 
will  allow  to  those  who  had  but  little, 
and  used  that- little  well,  as  brilliant  a 
portion  as  to  those  who,  having  much, 
were  alike  faithful  in  its  use.  It  is  here 
that  we  can  appeal  to  such  passages  as 
that  which  declares,  that  "  he  that  re- 
ceiveth  a  prophet  in  the  name  of  a 
prophet,  shall  receive  a  prophet's 
reward:"  an  undeniable  statement  that 
the  prophet's  reward  may  be  gained  by 
those  who  are  never  actually  engaged 
in  doing  the  prophet's  work ;  or  as  that 
which  makes  the  poor  widow's  two  mites 
outweigh,  in  God's  sight,  the  costliest 
oblations  of  the  wealthy  ;  an  evident  in- 
timation that  it  is  not  the  amount  given, 
but  simply  the  proportion  which  the 
amount  bears  to  the  ability,  which  is 
considered  and  noted  by  Him,  of  whom 
poor  and  rich  are  alike  stewards.  If  we 
were  right  in  arguing  that  unfaithfulness 
in  the  least  furnishes  as  correct  an  index 
of  disposition  and  character  as  unfaith- 
fulness in  much,  and  that,  therefore,  in 
all  justice,  the  same  punishment  might 
in  both  cases  be  awarded,  we  may  safely 
argue,  conversely,  that  faithfulness  in 
the  least  is  as  good  evidence  of  character 
as  faithfulness  in  the  much,  so  that  mercy 
cannot  be  said  to  interfere  with  equity, 
if,  in  each  case,  the  same  eternal  recom- 
pense be  bestowed.  If  justice,  untem- 
pered  with  mercy,  might,  in  the  one  in- 
stance, inflict  the  same  penalty,  it  must 
be  justice  uncompromised  with  mercy, 
which,  in  the  other,  allots  the  same 
reward.  And  we  know  of  no  ap- 
pointment which  can  more  tend  to  re- 


il4 


EQUrrr  OP  TUE  FUTURE  RETRIBUTION. 


concile  us  to  the  inequalities  of  human 
condition,  than  that  thus  announced  by 
our  Savior  :  "  He  that  is  faithful  in  that 
which  is  least,  is  faithful  also  in  much." 
You  are  all  aware  that  one  of  the  main 
arguments  by  which  natural  religion 
substantiates  the  truth  of  a  judgment  to 
come,  is  fetched  from  the  frequent  de- 
pression of  virtue,  and  the  triumphs  of 
wickedness  ;  from  those  manifest  diver- 
sities and  incongruities  which  deform 
the  present  state,  and  which  seem  to 
proclaim  that  there  must  yet  come  a 
season  of  adjustment  and  of  retribution. 
And  it  is  a  reasoning  not  easily  invali- 
dated, that  the  Righteous  Moral  Go- 
vernor must  have  designed  our  reap- 
pearance in  another  state  of  being,  since 
good  and  evil  are  here  unequally  dis- 
tributed, and  with  so  little  regard,  as  it 
seems,  to  character,  that  the  government 
of  God  would  contradict  His  nature  if  it 
terminated  with  the  presetit  dispensation. 
But  when  you  have  ceased  to  wonder  at 
the  inequalities  of  human  condition,  be- 
cause persuaded  that  we  are  as  yet  only  in 
an  interlocutory  state,  there  are  questions 
which  may  press  on  us  of  singular  in- 
terest, with  regard  to  that  judgment,  of 
whose  certainty  they  are  witnesses.  If, 
for  example,  the  judgment  is  to  demon- 
strate the  impartiality  of  God,  if  its  allot- 
ments are  to  make  it  evident  that  He 
has  dealt  with  all  men  without  respect 
of  persons,  it  is  difficult  to  understand 
how  this  can  be  effected,  seeing  that 
powers  and  opportunities  ftjr  preparation 
have  been  so  various,  that  one  man  ap- 
pears to  have  been  situated  a  hundred 
fold  more  advantageously  than  another 
for  escaping  the  punishment  and  secur- 
ing the  reward.  According  to  the  repre- 
sentations furnished  us  by  the  Scriptures, 
the  recompense  of  the  future  is  projxjr- 
tioned  to  what  men  have  done  for  God 
whilst  on  earth.  But  some  have  been 
so  much  better  circumstanced  than  others 
for  doing  God  service,  that  it  seems  as 
thougli  it  were  impossible  that  thorough 
impartiality  should  at  last  be  demonstra- 
ted. Jf  we  take  llie  singular  but  ma- 
jestic sketch  of  the  judgment  drawn  by 
Christ  himself,  shortly  before  his  cruci- 
fixion, we  find  that  the  acquittal  or  the 
condemnation  is  made  to  turn  merely 
upon  the  having  been  beneficent,  upon 
having  fed  the  hungry,  clothed  the  naked, 
and  visited  the  sick.  But  this  is  like 
putting  the  acquittal  within  the  reach  of 


none  but  the  rich,  none  at  least  but  those 
who  have  more  than  sufficient  for  them- 
selves, an  overplus  with  which  to  be 
charitable.  What  is  the  poor  man  to 
do?  the  individual  who  is  forced  to  ap- 
peal to  the  bounty  of  others,  and  is 
wholly  without  the  power  of  being  a 
benefactor  himself?  Is  his  poverty  to 
incapacitate  him  for  passing  the  last 
trial  1  Is  the  wealth  of  another  man  to 
give  so  mighty  a  superiority  tliat  here- 
after, as  well  as  here,  riches  will  secure 
him  the  ascendency  1  Indeed  this  were 
to  perpetuate  into  futurity  the  distinc- 
tions of  the  present,  that  the  last  judg- 
ment, in  place  of  adjusting  the  discrepan- 
cies which  now  throw  suspicion  on  the 
moral  government  of  God,  would  but 
make  hopeless  the  solution  of  what  is 
intricate  and  perplexed.  Yet  is  it  not 
certain  that  some  men,  through  no  fault 
of  their  own,  but  simply  through  the 
Divine  arrangements,  are  so  situated,  so 
endowed,  that  they  cannot  do  what  others 
do  in  offices  of  zeal  and  benevolence, 
and  that,  therefore,  they  must  stand 
lower  amongst  the  candidates  for  eter- 
nity, than  had  their  station  on  earth  or 
power  been  different.  Oh,  not  so  !  It  is 
here  that  the  principle  of  the  text  comes 
beautifully  into  operation,  "He  that  is 
faithful  in  that  which  is  least,  is  faithful 
also  in  much."  We  concede,  of  course, 
that  one  man  can  do  far  more  than  an- 
other, if  there  be  a  great  difference  in 
the  means  of  usefulness  respectively  pos- 
sessed. But  it  does  not  follow,  whatever 
their  means,  that  the  one  ioill  do  more 
than  the  other,  in  proportion  to  his 
ability ;  and  if  God  is  pleased  to  take 
his  estimate  from  the  proportion  which 
what  is  done  bears  to  the  power  ot 
doing,  there  is  an  end  at  once  to  all  ne- 
cessary superiority  on  the  side  of  those 
who  have  the  pre-eminence  in  wealth, 
rank,  and  talent.  The  propoition  may 
be  as  great,  or  even  gi'eater,  in  the  in- 
stance of  the  poor,  or  the  despised,  or 
the  illiterate  man,  than  in  that  of  another 
who  has  all  the  advantages  in  which  the 
first  is  deficient,  and  therefore,  may  the 
greater  recompense  be  gained  where, 
on  all  human  calculation,  there  was  the 
least  power  of  giving.  Will  you  tell  me 
that  2)Overty,  because  it  incapacitates  a 
man  from  being  a  giver,  must,  therefore, 
incapacitate  him  for  all  those  acts  of 
benevolence  which  are  mentioned  by 
Christ  as  the  criterion  of  character  1    We 


EQUITY  OP  THE  FUTURE  RETRIBUTION. 


415 


deny  it  altogether.  We  contend  that  the 
poorest  may  he  charitable,  as  well  as 
the  richest.  What  though  he  have  not 
even  the  widow's  two  mites  to  bestow  1 
What  though  he  be  actually  dependant 
upon  the  bounty  of  others  ]  Neveithe- 
less  he  may,  by  his  rigid  carefulness,  and 
in  taking  as  little  as  possible  from  the 
charitable,  leave  as  much  as  possible  to 
be  bestowed  on  his  companions  in 
misery,  and  thus  does  he  contribute  to 
their  relief  precisely  that  amount,  which, 
had  he  been  less  conscientious  and  less 
thrifty,  he  would  have  required  for  him- 
self. This  is  just  the  extreme  case,  the 
case  of  the  actual  beggar;  and  this  beg- 
gar may  rob  other  beggars  by  wringing 
from  the  benevolent  more  than  his  own 
recessities  positively  demand,  or  he  may 
contribute  to  other  beggars  by  accepting 
from  the  benevolent  only  what  will  just 
suffice  to  keep  him  from  starvation.  He 
is  "  faithful  in  the  least,"  if  he  draw  as 
little  as  possible  on  the  funds  of  benevo- 
lence ;  and  thus  his  faithfulness  in  the 
least  having  involved  a  much  harder 
sacrifice  than  that  of  many  others  in  the 
much,  may  place  him  far  above  the 
stewards  who  have  had  to  administer, 
and  have  administered  well,  the  largest 
revenues  of  o^^ulence.  There  can  be 
no  greater  mistake  than  the  imagining 
that  God  has  done  the  poor  man  such 
injustice  as  to  allow  the  rich  to  mono- 
polize the  power  of  being  charitable. 
I  do  not  know  the  man  so  poor  that  he 
may  not  give  to  others.  He  may  give  by 
taking  less  from  the  benevolent  than 
they  are  ready  to  bestow,  and  by  thus 
leaving  them  more  to  bestow  in  other 
quarters. 

And,  we  nothing  doubt,  that  many  a 
poor  man,  who  has  always  been  striving 
to  scrape  together  as  much  as  was  pos- 
sible from  the  charitable,  never  reckon- 
ing that  he  had  enough,  if  more  were  to 
be  had — that  he  will  be  as  truly  convic- 
ted at  the  judgment  of  having  defrauded 
the  perishing,  and  wronged  the  friend- 
less, as  the  wealthy  proprietor  who  has 
squandered  his  substance  on  luxury,  and 
closed  his  ear  to  the  cry  of  the  destitute. 
In  this  manner  it  is  that,  in  the  case  of 
many,  there  is  as  much  scope  for  un- 
faithfulness with  small  means,  as  with 
large ;  and  that  therefore,  the  poorest 
may  place  himself  on  a  footing  with  the 
richest,  when  the  two  come  to  the  judg- 
ment, as  stewards  of  God's  gift.     It  is 


the  same  in  every  other  ctise.  The  man 
who  has  but  the  smallest  opportunities 
of  instruction,  may  imprpve  those  op 
portunities  with  as  much  of  earnestness 
and  diligence  as  another  who  has  the 
largest.  There  will  be  a  great  differ- 
ence in  the  knowledge  of  the  two,  but 
none  in  the  faithfulness;  and  a  gracious 
God,  who  judges  according  to  what  a 
man  hath  and  not  according  to  what  he 
hath  not,  may  look  with  equal  favor  on 
both.  And  O,  we  do  think  this  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  of  the  arrangements 
in  the  dispensation  beneath  which  we 
live  !  We  cannot  receive  from  God  so 
little  of  present  advantage  as  not  to  have 
enough  to  enable  us  to  attain  the  very 
noblest  of  the  future.  We  care  not  how 
different  may  be  the  condition  of  those 
whom  we  address — high  and  low,  rich 
and  poor,  learned  and  ignorant,  we  re- 
gard them  all  as  candidates  for  the  same 
prizes,  all  as  having  it  equally  in  their 
power,  not  only  to  enter  heaven,  but  to 
reach  eminence  in  that  kingdom.  The 
distinctions  of  earth  are  evanescent,  and 
have  nothing  to  correspond  with  them 
in  that  state  of  being.  Indeed,  those 
who  have  had  present  advantages,  will 
have  more  to  answer  for ;  for  the  possess- 
ion of  those  advantages  implies  account- 
ableness,  but  their  non-possession  entails 
no  disability  in  regard  to  striving  for  the 
rewards  of  eternity.  We  carry  onwards 
our  thoughts  to  the  last  dread  assize, 
when,  throned  in  clouds,  the  Judge  of 
quick  and  dead  shall  summon  all  to  His 
bar.  Ministers  and  people,  masters  and 
servants,  all  shall  stand  together — all  be 
brought  to  a  strict  reckoning  for  their 
respective  talents  and  opportunities ; 
and,  if  all  are  accepted  through  the  mer- 
its of  Christ,  the  minister  will  not  neces- 
sarily be  placed  higher  than  the  people, 
though  his  occupation,  whilst  on  earth, 
was  holier,  and  more  intimate  with 
Deity  ;  neither  will  masters  and  servants 
be  necessarily  separated  because  they 
moved  during  life  in  widely  different 
spheres,  each  in  his  own  place  may  have 
done  his  utmost  for  God,  and  hereafter, 
in  thorough  consistency  with  His  every 
attribute,  may  God  assign  to  each  the 
same  recompense.  In  this  way  it  is  that 
Christianity,  though  vehemently  oppos- 
ed to  all  those  levelling  theories  which 
disaffected  men  industriously  broach, 
place  the  highest  and  the  lowest  on  a 
par   in   the    competition    for    eternity. 


416 


EQUITY  OF  THE  FUTURE  RETRIBUTION. 


Cliristianity  is-  the  best  upholder  of 
those  distinctions  in  society,  teacliing 
that  tliere  is  no  more  direct  rebellion 
against  the  Creator  than  resistance  to 
any  constituted  authority,  or  tlie  en- 
deavor to  bring  round  that  boasted  equal- 
ity in  which  all  shall  have  the  same  rights, 
or,  more  truly,  in  which  none  shall  have 
any.  But,  nevertheless,  if  Christianity 
make  it  sinful  to  repine  against  servitude, 
it  gives  dignity  to  servitude,  which  would 
ehow  the  repining  unreasonable,  if  it  had 
not  been  made  sinful.  It  tells  every 
servant  that,  if  he  be  faithful  in  his  call- 
ing, he  may  rank  with  his  master  here- 
after, even  though  the  employment  of 
the  master  have  been  exclusively  the  ad- 
vancing of  Christ's  cause  on  earth.  O 
it  should  be  a  surprisingly  cheering  thing 
to  those  who  have  to  wear  away  life  in 
the  meanest  occupation,  that,  as  immor- 
tal beings,  they  are  not  one  jot  disad- 
vantaged by  their  temporal  position,  but 
may  make  as  much  progress  in  the  Chris- 
tian race  as  though  placed  on  the  very 
summit  in  Christian  office.  Ay,  and  the 
cottager,  who  never  is  heard  of  beyond 
his  own  petty  village,  and  whose  only 
business  in  life  is  with  tht>  spade  and  the 
plough ;  and  the  artizan,  who,  week  af- 
ter week,  must  pursue   the    same    dull 


routine,  turning  the  wheel  or  throwing 
the  shuttle;  and  the  servant,  whose  days 
are  consumed  in  the  drudgei-y  of  servi- 
tude— there  is  not  one  of  these  who  need 
look  with  discontent  on  the  missionary, 
before  whom  idolatry  is  quailing,  or  the 
philanthroj)ist,  whose  charities  spread 
liappiness  through  a  parish.  The  in- 
mates of  the  cottage,  or  the  manufoc- 
tory,  or  the  kitchen,  are  the  rivals  of 
the  missionary  and  the  philanthropist 
for  the  prizes  of  heaven ;  and,  when  the 
throne  is  set,  and  the  books  are  opened, 
all  may  receive  the  same  crown,  or  that 
on  the  head  of  the  mean  man  may  even 
outshine  that  Avhich  the  distinguished 
man  w'ears. 

O  that  God  might  grant  to  all  of  us 
so  to  use  the  present  world  as  not  to 
abuse  it ;  so  to  pass  through  things  tem- 
poral as  that  we  finally  lose  not  things 
eternal;  and  if  we  have  much,  whether 
of  wealth,  or  of  talent,  or  of  privileges, 
that  we  may  labor  to  be  faithful,  know 
ing  that  the  much  not  improved  must 
entail  an  immensity  of  wretchedness, 
and  that,  if  we  have  little,  we  may  labor 
equally  to  be  faithful,  knowing  that  a 
little  well  improved  shall  assure  an  ira 
mensity  of  happiness. 


-*■ 


'    '  ^  / 


IIIIIIIMII  Mil  IIINI  llllll  IIIIIMIIIII  IIMIMIMII  IMIII  IIIIMI  l/     /     V 

3   11 58  00752  6568         ^  C    ^ 


BX 

5133 
Mif9s 
185^ 
v.l 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    001  185  815    6 


